and Bravo, as well as Zuniga, being members of that order.
So great was the reverence for this Lady that the Acapulco galleons on their annual voyages were accustomed to fire salutes in her honor as they passed along the coast near her shrine.--Foreman. The Philippine Islands, quoting from the account of an eruption of Taal Volcano in 1749, by Fray Francisco Vencuchillo.
This Lady's sanctuary, where she is still "enchanting" in her "eagle in half-relief," stands out prominently on the hill above the town of Taal, plainly visible from Balayan Bay.--TR.
10 A Tagalog term meaning "to tumble," or "to caper about," doubtless from the actions of the Lady's devotees. Pakil is a town in
Laguna Province.--TR.
11 A work on scholastic philosophy, by a Spanish prelate of that name.--TR.
12 The nunnery and college of St. Catherine of Sienna ("Santa Catalina de la Sena") was founded by the Dominican Fathers in
1696.--TR. [Contents] Chapter VIII
An Idyl on an Azotea
The Song of Songs, which is Solomon's.
That morning Aunt Isabel and Maria Clara went early to mass, the latter elegantly dressed and wearing a rosary of blue beads, which partly served as a bracelet for her, and the former with her spectacles in order to read her Anchor of Salvation during the holy communion. Scarcely had the priest disappeared from the altar when the maiden expressed a desire for returning home, to the great surprise and displeasure of her good aunt, who believed her niece to be as pious and devoted to praying as a nun, at least. Grumbling and crossing herself, the good old lady rose. "The good Lord will forgive me, Aunt Isabel, since He must know the hearts of girls better than you do," Maria Clara might have said to check the severe yet maternal chidings.
After they had breakfasted, Maria Clara consumed her impatience in working at a silk purse while her aunt was trying to clean up
the traces of the former night's revelry by swinging a feather duster about. Capitan Tiago was busy looking over some papers. Every
noise in the street, every carriage that passed, caused the maiden to tremble and quickened the beatings of her heart. Now she
wished that she were back in the quiet convent among her friends; there she could have seen him without emotion and agitation! But was he not the companion of her infancy, had they not played together and even quarreled at times? The reason for all this I need
not explain; if you, O reader, have ever loved, you will understand; and if you [51]have not, it is useless for me to tell you, as the
uninitiated do not comprehend these mysteries.
"I believe, Maria, that the doctor is right," said Capitan Tiago. "You ought to go into the country, for you are pale and need fresh air. What do you think of Malabon or San Diego?" At the mention of the latter place Maria Clara blushed like a poppy and was unable to answer.
"You and Isabel can go at once to the convent to get your clothes and to say good-by to your friends," he continued, without raising his head. "You will not stay there any longer."
The girl felt the vague sadness that possesses the mind when we leave forever a place where we have been happy, but another thought softened this sorrow.
"In four or five days, after you get some new clothes made, we'll go to Malabon. Your godfather is no longer in San Diego. The
priest that you may have noticed here last night, that young padre, is the new curate whom we have there, and he is a saint."
"I think that San Diego would be better, cousin," observed Aunt Isabel. "Besides, our house there is better and the time for the fiesta
draws near."
Maria Clara wanted to embrace her aunt for this speech, but hearing a carriage stop, she turned pale.
"Ah, very true," answered Capitan Tiago, and then in a different tone he exclaimed, "Don Crisostomo!"
39
The maiden let her sewing fall from her hands and wished to move but could not--a violent tremor ran through her body. Steps
were heard on the stairway and then a fresh, manly voice. As if that voice had some magic power, the maiden controlled her emotion and ran to hide in the oratory among the saints. The two cousins laughed, and Ibarra even heard the noise of the door closing. Pale and breathing rapidly, the maiden pressed her beating heart and tried to listen. She heard his voice, that beloved voice that for so long a time she had heard only in her dreams he was asking for her! Overcome with joy, she kissed [52]the nearest saint, which happened
to be St. Anthony the Abbot, a saint happy in flesh and in wood, ever the object of pleasing temptations! Afterwards she sought the
keyhole in order to see and examine him. She smiled, and when her aunt snatched her from that position she unconsciously threw
her arms around the old lady's neck and rained kisses upon her.
"Foolish child, what's the matter with you?" the old lady was at last able to say as she wiped a tear from her faded eyes. Maria Clara felt ashamed and covered her eyes with her plump arm.
"Come on, get ready, come!" added the old aunt fondly. "While he is talking to your father about you. Come, don't make him wait." Like a child the maiden obediently followed her and they shut themselves up in her chamber.
Capitan Tiago and Ibarra were conversing in a lively manner when Aunt Isabel appeared half dragging her niece, who was looking in
every direction except toward the persons in the room.
What said those two souls communicating through the language of the eyes, more perfect than that of the lips, the language given to the soul in order that sound may not mar the ecstasy of feeling? In such moments, when the thoughts of two happy beings penetrate into each other's souls through the eyes, the spoken word is halting, rude, and weak--it is as the harsh, slow roar of the thunder compared with the rapidity of the dazzling lightning flash, expressing feelings already recognized, ideas already understood, and if words are made use of it is only because the heart's desire, dominating all the being and flooding it with happiness, wills that the whole human organism with all its physical and psychical powers give expression to the song of joy that rolls through the soul. To
the questioning glance of love, as it flashes out and then conceals itself, speech has no reply; the smile, the kiss, the sigh answer.
[53]Soon the two lovers, fleeing from the dust raised by Aunt Isabel's broom, found themselves on the azotea where they could commune in liberty among the little arbors. What did they tell each other in murmurs that you nod your heads, O little red cypress flowers? Tell it, you who have fragrance in your breath and color on your lips. And thou, O zephyr, who learnest rare harmonies in the stillness of the dark night amid the hidden depths of our virgin forests! Tell it, O sunbeams, brilliant manifestation upon earth of the Eternal, sole immaterial essence in a material world, you tell it, for I only know how to relate prosaic commonplaces. But since you seem unwilling to do so, I am going to try myself.
The sky was blue and a fresh breeze, not yet laden with the fragrance of roses, stirred the leaves and flowers of the vines; that is
why the cypresses, the orchids, the dried fishes, and the Chinese lanterns were trembling. The splash of paddles in the muddy waters of the river and the rattle of carriages and carts passing over the Binondo bridge came up to them distinctly, although they did not hear what the old aunt murmured as she saw where they were: "That's better, there you'll be watched by the whole neighborhood." At first they talked nonsense, giving utterance only to those sweet inanities which are so much like the boastings of the nations of Europe--pleasing and honey-sweet at home, but causing foreigners to laugh or frown.