"Speaking of fetes," said Crisostomo to the curate, "we hope you will join us in a picnic to-morrow, near the great fig-tree in the wood. The arrangements are all made as you wished, Maria. A small party is to start for the fishing-ground before sunrise," he went on to the curate, "and later we hope to be joined by all our friends of the pueblo." The curate said he should be happy to come after his services were said. They chatted a few moments longer, and then Ibarra excused himself to finish giving his invitations and make his final arrangements. As he left the house a man saluted him respectfully. "Who are you?" asked Crisostomo. "You would not know my name, senor; I have been trying to see you for three days." "And what do you want?" "Senor, my wife has gone mad, my children are lost, and no one will help me find them. I want your aid." "Come with me," said Ibarra. The man thanked him, and they disappeared together in the darkness of the unlighted streets. XIX. THE FISHING PARTY. The stars were yet brilliant in the sapphire vault, and in the branches the birds were still asleep when a merry party went through the streets of the pueblo, toward the lake, lighted by the glimmer of the pitch torches here called huepes. There were five young girls, walking rapidly, holding each other by the hand or waist, followed by several elderly ladies, and servants bearing gracefully on their heads baskets of provisions. To see these girls' faces, laughing with youth, to judge by their abundant black hair flying free in the wind, and the ample folds of their garments, we might take them for divinities of the night fleeing at the approach of day; but they were Maria Clara and her four friends, the merry Sinang, her cousin, the calm Victoria, beautiful Iday, and pensive Neneng. They talked with animation, pinched each other, whispered in each other's ears, and pealed out merry rounds of laughter. After a while there came to meet the party a group of young men, carrying torches of reeds. They were walking, silent, to the sound of a guitar. When the two groups met, the girls became serious and grave. The men, on the contrary, talked, laughed, and asked six questions to get half a reply. "Is the lake smooth? Do you think we shall have a fine day?" demanded the mamas. "Don't be disturbed, senoras, I'm a splendid swimmer," said a tall, slim fellow, a merry-looking rascal with an air of mock gravity.