It was Maria Clara, Victoria, and Sinang walking in the brook. Their eyes were on the water, where they were searching for the mysterious nest. In blouses striped with dainty colors, their full bath skirts wet to the knees, outlining the graceful curves of their bodies, they moved along, seeking the impossible, meanwhile picking flowers along the banks. Soon the little stream bent its course, and the tall reeds hid the charming trio and cut off the sound of their voices. A little farther on, in the middle of the stream, was a sort of bath, well enclosed, its roof of leafy bamboo; palm leaves, flowers, and streamers decked its sides. From here, too, came girls' voices. Farther on was a bamboo bridge, and beyond that the men were bathing, while a multitude of servants were busy plucking fowls, washing rice, roasting pigs. In the clearing on the opposite bank a group of men and women had formed under a great canvas roof, attached in part to the branches of the ancient trees, in part to pickets. There chatted the curate, the alferez, the vicar, the gobernadorcillo, the lieutenant, all the chief men of the town, including the famous orator, Captain Basilio, father of Sinang and opponent of Don Rafael Ibarra in a lawsuit not yet ended. "We dispute a point at law," Crisostomo had said in inviting him, "but to dispute is not to be enemies," and the famous orator had accepted the invitation. Bottles of lemonade were opened and green cocoanut shells were broken, so that those who came from the baths might drink the fresh water; the girls were given wreaths of ylang-ylang and roses to perfume their unbound hair. The lunch hour came. The curate, the alferez, the gobernadorcillo, some captains, and the lieutenant sat at a table with Ibarra. The mamas allowed no men at the table with the girls. "Have you learned anything, senor alferez, about the criminal who attacked Brother Damaso?" said Brother Salvi. "Of what criminal are you speaking?" asked the alferez, looking at the father over his glass of wine. "What? Why, the one who attacked Brother Damaso on the highway day before yesterday." "Father Damaso has been attacked?" asked several voices. "Yes; he is in bed yet. It is thought the maker of the assault is Elias, the one who threw you into the swamp some time ago, senor alferez." The alferez reddened with shame, if it were not from emptying his glass of wine. "But I supposed you were informed," the curate went on; "I said to myself that the alferez of the Municipal Guard----" The officer bit his lip. At that moment a woman, pale, thin, miserably dressed, appeared, like a phantom, in the midst of the feast. "Give the poor woman something to eat," said the ladies. She kept on toward the table where the curate was seated. He turned, recognized her, and the knife fell from his hand. "Give the woman something to eat," ordered Ibarra.