An Eagle Flight
Copyright© 2024 by José Rizal
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——”
Maria Clara stopped her ears.
“But, Santiago, are you mad?” cried Aunt Isabel. “Speak to her of another fiancé now? Do you think your daughter changes them as she does her gloves?”
“I have thought about it, Isabel; but what would you have me do? They threaten me, too, with excommunication.”
“And you do nothing but distress your daughter! Aren’t you the friend of the archbishop? Why don’t you write to him?”
“The archbishop is a monk, too. He will do only what the monks say. But don’t cry, Maria; the governor-general is coming. He will want to see you, and your eyes will be red. Alas, I thought I was going to have such a good afternoon! Without this misfortune I should be the happiest of men, with everybody envying me! Be calm, my child, I am more unhappy than you, and I don’t cry. You may find a better fiancé; but as for me, I lose fifty thousand pesos! Ah, Virgin of Antipolo, if only I have luck tonight!”
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