“Willingly,” agreed Ibarra, “especially as I have something to say this very minute to those young people in that group over there.” He arose with the agreement that his opponent should have a quarter of an hour.
Iday had the round card on which were written the forty-eight questions, while Albino held the book of answers.
“A lie! It’s not so!” cried Sinang, half in tears.
“What’s the matter?” asked María Clara.
“Just imagine, I asked, ‘When shall I have some sense?’ I threw the dice and that worn-out priest read from the book, ‘When the frogs raise hair.’ What do you think of that?” As she said this, Sinang made a grimace at the laughing ex-theological student.
“Who told you to ask that question?” her cousin Victoria asked her. “To ask it is enough to deserve such an answer.”
“You ask a question,” they said to Ibarra, offering him the wheel. “We’re decided that whoever gets the best answer shall receive a present from the rest. Each of us has already had a question.”
“Who got the best answer?”
“María Clara, María Clara!” replied Sinang. “We made her ask, willy-nilly, ‘Is your sweetheart faithful and constant?’ And the book answered—”
But here the blushing María Clara put her hands over Sinang’s mouth so that she could not finish.
“Well, give me the wheel,” said Crisóstomo, smiling. “My question is, ‘Shall I succeed in my present enterprise?’ ”
“What an ugly question!” exclaimed Sinang.
Ibarra threw the dice and in accordance with the resulting number the page and line were sought.
“Dreams are dreams,” read Albino.
Ibarra drew out the telegram and opened it with trembling hands. “This time your book is wrong!” he exclaimed joyfully. “Read this: ‘School project approved. Suit decided in your favor.’ ”
“What does it mean?” all asked.
“Didn’t you say that a present is to be given to the one receiving the best answer?” he asked in a voice shaking with emotion as he tore the telegram carefully into two pieces.
“Yes, yes!”
“Well then, this is my present,” he said as he gave one piece to María Clara. “A school for boys and girls is to be built in the town and this school is my present.”
“And the other part, what does it mean?”
“It’s to be given to the one who has received the worst answer.”
“To me, then, to me!” cried Sinang.
Ibarra gave her the other piece of the telegram and hastily withdrew.
“What does it mean?” she asked, but the happy youth was already at a distance, returning to the game of chess.
Fray Salví in abstracted mood approached the circle of young people. María Clara wiped away her tears of joy, the laughter ceased, and the talk died away. The curate stared at the young people without offering to say anything, while they silently waited for him to speak.
“What’s this?” he at length asked, picking up the book and turning its leaves.
“The Wheel of Fortune, a book of games,” replied Leon.
“Don’t you know that it’s a sin to believe in these things?” he scolded, tearing the leaves out angrily.
Cries of surprise and anger escaped from the lips of all.
“It’s a greater sin to dispose of what isn’t yours, against the wish of the owner,” contradicted Albino, rising. “Padre, that’s what is called stealing and it is forbidden by God and men!”
María Clara clasped her hands and gazed with tearful eyes at the remnants of the book which a few moments before had been the source of so much happiness for her.
Contrary to the general expectation, Fray Salví did not reply to Albino, but stood staring at the torn leaves as they were whirled about, some falling in the wood, some in the water, then he staggered away with his hands over his head. He stopped for a few moments to speak with Ibarra, who accompanied him to one of the carriages, which were at the disposal of the guests.
“He’s doing well to leave, that killjoy,” murmured Sinang. “He has a face that seems to say, ‘Don’t laugh, for I know about your sins!’ ”
After making the present to his fiancée, Ibarra was so happy that he began to play without reflection or a careful examination of the positions of the pieces. The result was that although Capitan Basilio was hard pressed the game became a stalemate, owing to many careless moves on the young man’s part.
“It’s settled, we’re at peace!” exclaimed Capitan Basilio heartily.
“Yes, we’re at peace,” repeated the youth, “whatever the decision of the court may be.” And the two shook hands cordially.
While all present were rejoicing over this happy termination of a quarrel of which both parties were tired, the sudden arrival of a sergeant and four soldiers of the Civil Guard, all armed and with bayonets fixed, disturbed the mirth and caused fright among the women.
“Keep still, everybody!” shouted the sergeant. “Shoot anyone who moves!”
In spite of this blustering command, Ibarra arose and approached the sergeant. “What do you want?” he asked.
“That you deliver to us at once a criminal named Elías, who was your pilot this morning,” was the threatening reply.
“A criminal—the pilot? You must be mistaken,” answered Ibarra.
“No, sir, this Elías has just been accused of putting his hand on a priest—”
“Oh, was that the pilot?”
“The very same, according to reports. You admit persons of bad character into your fiestas, Señor Ibarra.”
Ibarra looked him over from head to foot and replied with great disdain, “I don’t have to give you an account of my actions! At our fiestas all are welcome. Had you yourself come, you would have found a place at our table, just as did your alferez, who was with us a couple of hours ago.” With this he turned his back.
The sergeant gnawed at the ends of his mustache but, considering himself the weaker party, ordered the soldiers to institute a search, especially among the trees, for the pilot, a description of whom he carried on a piece of paper.
Don Filipo said to him, “Notice that this description fits nine
