Nationalists -- Philippines -- Fiction; Philippine fiction (Spanish) -- Translations into English; Philippines -- History -- Fiction
Santo Diós,
Santo fuerte,
Santo inmortal,
¡Libranos, Señor, de la peste
Y de todo mal! [66]
“It’s an infallible remedy, but you must apply the holy water to the
part affected,” she concluded.
But there were many persons who did not believe in these things, nor
did they attribute Basilio’s imprisonment to the chastisement of God.
Nor did they take any stock in insurrections and pasquinades, knowing
the prudent and ultra-pacific character of the boy, but preferred to
ascribe it to revenge on the part of the friars, because of his having
rescued from servitude Juli, the daughter of a tulisan who was the
mortal enemy of a certain powerful corporation. As they had quite a
poor idea of the morality of that same corporation and could recall
cases of petty revenge, their conjecture was believed to have more
probability and justification.
“What a good thing I did when I drove her from my house!” said Sister
Penchang. “I don’t want to have any trouble with the friars, so I urged
her to find the money.”
The truth was, however, that she regretted Juli’s liberty, for Juli
prayed and fasted for her, and if she had stayed a longer time, would
also have done penance. Why, if the curates pray for us and Christ died
for our sins, couldn’t Juli do the same for Sister Penchang?
When the news reached the hut where the poor Juli and her grandfather
lived, the girl had to have it repeated to her. She stared at Sister
Bali, who was telling it, as though without comprehension, without
ability to collect her thoughts. Her ears buzzed, she felt a sinking at
the heart and had a vague presentiment that this event would have a
disastrous influence on her own future. Yet she tried to seize upon a
ray of hope, she smiled, thinking that Sister Bali was joking with her,
a rather strong joke, to be sure, but she forgave her beforehand if she
would acknowledge that it was such. But Sister Bali made a cross with
one of her thumbs and a forefinger, and kissed it, to prove that she
was telling the truth. Then the smile faded forever from the girl’s
lips, she turned pale, frightfully pale, she felt her strength leave
her and for the first time in her life she lost consciousness, falling
into a swoon.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account