Americans -- Philippines -- Fiction; Short stories
"From the window, Señor Pablo. The door, it was locked. He called this
way--" (here Isidro described with his right arm a furious moulinet).
"He said, 'sh-sh-sh-sh-sh,' and then he moved his arm this way--" (again
the moulinet), "and then he stopped his arm and moved his finger this
way--" (here Isidro held up his hand before his face and moved the index
finger several times toward his nose in a gesture full of mysterious
significance).
"And then you went in?"
"Yes, Señor Pablo. They opened the door, oh, just a little, like that--"
(Isidro placed his hands palm to palm with an interstice between them
just wide enough to allow the wiggling through of a very lean serpent),
"and I went in and they shut the door again and put the bed up against
it."
"Well, well; and Maestro Ledesma, he was inside?"
"Oh, yes, Señor Pablo, he was inside. He was writing this letter. And I
think Señor Ledesma is very sick, Señor Pablo, because when he was
writing he was all the time saying, 'Madre de Dios' and
'Jesus-Maria-Joseph!' and making noises like this."
And Isidro convulsed himself in an effort that resulted in a vague
imitation of the wail of a carabao calf.
"And he gave you the letter when he had finished?"
"Yes, Señor Pablo, that is the letter," said Isidro, pointing to the
note on the table which had been the Maestro's before-breakfast
thunderbolt. "He said, 'run and give this letter to Maestro Pablo'; and
so I went, but I did not go out by the door."
"You didn't?"
"No, Señor Pablo. Maestro Ledesma, he said I must not go out by the
door. So they tied a rope around me, and I went out by the window, in
back, and I ran here, and I did not stop to play cibay on the way, Señor
Pablo."
But Isidro's virtue was destined to go unrewarded. The Maestro was deep
in a re-reading of the disastrous missive:
MUCH SEÑOR MINE AND REVERED TEACHER AND ADVISER IN MY TIMES OF
CALAMITY
I beseech you, my venerated Teacher and in many ways Ancestor to
come to my succor in this my most deplorable state, and pull away
from me the blackness of Despair that is at the all-around of me.
I am a prisoner in my own house. In fear and trembling I dare not
sleep, I dare not eat, and I cannot leave my habitation to go to
the school and perform my sacred duties of teaching the ignorant
and unhappy youth of my sore-tried country the blessings and
deliverance of the great country under the rustling shadows of the
stars and spangles which you have come so many miles across the
wetness of the sea to pull the black veil of ignorance from our
eyes.
Your Maestra, the Señorita Constancia de la Rama y Lacson, is
camped in my sugar fields, in front of my house, and she will not
decamp.
With loud threats of vengeance and audacious accusation she
declares that she will marry me.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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