Part 42

"Sister Rufa, when I'm a worthy sister of men, I will think about being a sister of the saints," said the capitana, smiling.

Under the booth where the children had their feast the father of the one who was to be a doctor was talking.

"What troubles me most," said he, "is that the school will not be finished; my son will not be a doctor, but a carter."

"Who said there wouldn't be a school?"

"I say so. The White Fathers have called Don Crisóstomo plibastiero. There won't be any school."

The peasants questioned each other's faces. The word was new to them.

"And is that a bad name?" one at last ventured to ask.

"It's the worst one Christian can give another."

"Worse than tarantado and saragate?"

"If it weren't, it wouldn't amount to much."

"Come now. It can't be worse than indio, as the alférez says."

He whose son was to be a carter looked gloomy. The other shook his head and reflected.

"Then is it as bad as betalapora, that the old woman of the alférez says?"

"You remember the word ispichoso (suspect), which had only to be said of a man to have the guards lead him off to prison? Well, plibastiero is worse yet; if any one calls you plibastiero, you can confess and pay your debts, for there's nothing else left to do but get yourself hanged. That's what the telegrapher and the sub-director say, and you know whether the telegrapher and the sub-director ought to know: one talks with iron wires, and the other knows Spanish, and handles nothing but the pen."

The last hope fled.

XXX.

THE FIRST CLOUD.

The home of Captain Tiago was naturally not less disturbed than the minds of the crowd. Maria Clara refused to be comforted by her aunt and her foster-sister. Her father had forbidden her to speak to Crisóstomo until the ban of excommunication should be raised.

In the midst of his preparations for receiving the governor-general Captain Tiago was summoned to the convent.

"Don't cry, my child," said Aunt Isabel, as she polished the mirrors with a chamois skin, "the ban will be raised. They will write to the holy father. We will make a big offering. Father Dámaso only fainted; he isn't dead!"

"Don't cry," whispered Andeng; "I will arrange to meet Crisóstomo."

At last Captain Tiago came back. They scanned his face for answers to many questions; but the face of Captain Tiago spoke discouragement. The poor man passed his hand across his brow and seemed unable to frame a word.

"Well, Santiago?" demanded the anxious aunt.

He wiped away a tear and replied by a sigh.

"Speak, for heaven's sake! What is it?"

"What I all the time feared," he said at last, conquering his tears. "Everything is lost! Father Dámaso orders me to break the promise of marriage. They all say the same thing, even Father Sibyla. I must shut the doors of my house to him, and--I owe him more than fifty thousand pesos! I told the fathers so, but they wouldn't take it into account. 'Which would you rather lose,' they said, 'fifty thousand pesos or your soul?' Ah, St. Anthony, if I had known, if I had known!"

Maria Clara was sobbing.

"Don't cry, my child," he said, turning to her; "you aren't like your mother; she never cried. Father Dámaso told me that a young friend of his is coming from Spain; he intends him for your fiancé----"