Part 37

Then everything was confusion. All talked at once, gestured, went hither and thither, and knew not what to do.

"Who is killed?" demanded the alférez.

"Arrest the head builder!" were the first words the alcalde could pronounce.

They brought up the body and examined it. It was that of the Mongol. The heart no longer beat.

The priests shook Ibarra's hand, and warmly congratulated him.

"When I think that I was there a moment before!" said one of the clerks.

"It is well they gave the trowel to you instead of me," said a trembling old man.

"Don Pascal!" cried some of the Spaniards.

"Señores, the Señor Ibarra lives, while I, if I had not been crushed, should have died of fright."

Ibarra had been to inform himself of Maria Clara.

"Let the fête continue, Señor Ibarra," said the alcalde, as he came back. "Thank God, the dead is neither priest nor Spaniard! You ought to celebrate your escape! What if the stone had fallen on you!"

"He had presentiments!" cried the notary. "He did not want to go down, that was plain to be seen!"

"It's only an Indian!"

"Let the fête go on! Give us music! Mourning won't raise the dead. Captain, let the inquest be held! Arrest the head builder!"

"Shall he be put in the stocks?"

"Yes, in the stocks! Music, music! The head builder in the stocks!"

"Señor Alcalde," said Ibarra, "if mourning won't raise the dead, neither will the imprisonment of a man whose guilt is not proven. I go security for his person and ask his liberty, for these fête days at least."

"Very well! But let him not repeat it!" said the alcalde.

All kinds of rumors circulated among the people. The idea of a miracle was generally accepted. Many said they had seen descend into the trench at the fatal moment a figure in a dark costume, like that of the Franciscans. 'Twas no doubt San Diego himself.

"A bad beginning," muttered old Tasio, shaking his head as he moved away.

XXVII.

FREE THOUGHT.

Ibarra, who had gone home for a change of clothing, had just finished dressing when a servant announced that a peasant wished to see him. Supposing it to be one of his laborers, he had him taken to his work room, which was at the same time his library and chemical laboratory. To his great surprise he found himself face to face with the mysterious Elias.

"You saved my life," said the man, speaking in Tagalo, and understanding the movement of Ibarra. "I have not half paid my debt. Do not thank me. It is I who should thank you. I have come to ask a favor."

"Speak!" said his listener.

Elias fixed his melancholy eyes on Ibarra's and went on:

"When the justice of man tries to clear up this mystery, and your testimony is taken, I entreat you not to speak to any one of the warning I gave you."

"Do not be alarmed," said Crisóstomo, losing interest; "I know you are pursued, but I'm not an informer."