As the cloud of dust thinned, Ibarra was seen upright among the beams, joists and cables, between the capstan and the great stone that had fallen. He still held the trowel in his hand. With eyes frightful to look at, he regarded a corpse half buried under the beams at his feet. "Are you unhurt? Are you alive? For God's sake, speak!" cried some one at last. "A miracle! A miracle!" cried others. "Come, take out the body of this man," said Ibarra, as if waking from a dream. At the sound of his voice Maria Clara would have fallen but for the arms of her friends. Then everything was confusion. All talked at once, gestured, went hither and thither, and knew not what to do. "Who is killed?" demanded the alferez. "Arrest the head builder!" were the first words the alcalde could pronounce. They brought up the body and examined it. It was that of the Mongol. The heart no longer beat. The priests shook Ibarra's hand, and warmly congratulated him. "When I think that I was there a moment before!" said one of the clerks. "It is well they gave the trowel to you instead of me," said a trembling old man. "Don Pascal!" cried some of the Spaniards. "Senores, the Senor Ibarra lives, while I, if I had not been crushed, should have died of fright." Ibarra had been to inform himself of Maria Clara. "Let the fete continue, Senor Ibarra," said the alcalde, as he came back. "Thank God, the dead is neither priest nor Spaniard! You ought to celebrate your escape! What if the stone had fallen on you!" "He had presentiments!" cried the notary. "He did not want to go down, that was plain to be seen!" "It's only an Indian!" "Let the fete go on! Give us music! Mourning won't raise the dead. Captain, let the inquest be held! Arrest the head builder!" "Shall he be put in the stocks?" "Yes, in the stocks! Music, music! The head builder in the stocks!" "Senor Alcalde," said Ibarra, "if mourning won't raise the dead, neither will the imprisonment of a man whose guilt is not proven. I go security for his person and ask his liberty, for these fete days at least." "Very well! But let him not repeat it!" said the alcalde. All kinds of rumors circulated among the people. The idea of a miracle was generally accepted. Many said they had seen descend into the trench at the fatal moment a figure in a dark costume, like that of the Franciscans. 'Twas no doubt San Diego himself. "A bad beginning," muttered old Tasio, shaking his head as he moved away. XXVII. FREE THOUGHT. Ibarra, who had gone home for a change of clothing, had just finished dressing when a servant announced that a peasant wished to see him. Supposing it to be one of his laborers, he had him taken to his work room, which was at the same time his library and chemical laboratory. To his great surprise he found himself face to face with the mysterious Elias.