"Tulisanes? Impossible! I heard it was the cuadrilleros against the guards; that's why Don Filipo was arrested." "They say at least fourteen are dead." Other windows opened and people were seen exchanging greetings and gossip. By the light of the dawn, which promised a splendid day, soldiers could now be seen dimly at the end of the street, like gray silhouettes coming and going. "Do you know what it was?" asked a man, with a villainous face. "Yes, the cuadrilleros." "No, senor, a revolt!" "What revolt? The curate against the alferez?" "Oh, no; nothing of that kind. It was an uprising of the Chinese." "The Chinese!" repeated all the listeners, with great disappointment. "That's why we don't see one!" "They are all dead!" "I--I suspected they had something on foot!" "I saw it, too. Last night----" "What a pity they are all dead before Christmas!" cried Sister Rufa. "We shall not get their presents!" The streets began to show signs of life. First the dogs, pigs, and chickens began to circulate; then some little ragged boys, keeping hold of each other's hands, ventured to approach the barracks. Two or three old women crept after them, their heads wrapt in handkerchiefs knotted under their chins, pretending to tell their beads, so as not to be driven back by the soldiers. When it was certain that one might come and go without risking a pistol shot, the men commenced to stroll out. Affecting indifference and stroking their cocks, they finally got as far as the tribunal. Every quarter hour a new version of the affair was circulated. Ibarra with his servants had tried to carry off Maria Clara, and in defending her, Captain Tiago had been wounded. The number of dead was no longer fourteen, but thirty. At half-past seven the version which received most credit was clear and detailed. "I've just come from the tribunal," said a passer, "where I saw Don Filipo and Don Crisostomo prisoners. Well, Bruno, son of the man who was beaten to death, has confessed everything. You know, Captain Tiago is to marry his daughter to the young Spaniard. Don Crisostomo wanted revenge, and planned to massacre all the Spaniards. His band attacked the convent and the barracks. They say many of them escaped. The guards burned Don Crisostomo's house, and if he hadn't been arrested, they would have burned him, too." "They burned the house?" "You can still see the smoke from here," said the narrator. Everybody looked: a column of smoke was rising against the sky. Then the comments began, some pitying, some accusing. "Poor young man!" cried the husband of Sister Puta. "What!" cried the sister. "You are ready to defend a man that heaven has so plainly punished? You'll find yourself arrested too. You uphold a falling house!" The husband was silent; the argument had told. "Yes," went on the old woman. "After striking down Father Damaso, there was nothing left but to kill Father Salvi!" "But you can't deny he was a good child."