He whispered a few words in Placido’s ear and then broke out into laughter. As the latter exhibited some surprise, he resumed: “I’ll swear to it! They can’t help themselves, because with a governmental order you get rid of the father, husband, or brother, and then—merry Christmas! However, we did run up against a little fool, the sweetheart, I believe, of Basilio, you know? Look, what a fool this Basilio is! To have a sweetheart who doesn’t know a word of Spanish, who hasn’t any money, and who has been a servant! She’s as shy as she can be, but pretty. Padre Camorra one night started to club two fellows who were serenading her and I don’t know how it was he didn’t kill them, yet with all that she was just as shy as ever. But it’ll result for her as it does with all the women, all of them!” Juanito Pelaez laughed with a full mouth, as though he thought this a glorious thing, while Placido stared at him in disgust. “Listen, what did the professor explain yesterday?” asked Juanito, changing the conversation. “Yesterday there was no class.” “Oho, and the day before yesterday?” “Man, it was Thursday!” “Right! What an ass I am! Don’t you know, Placido, that I’m getting to be a regular ass? What about Wednesday?” “Wednesday? Wait—Wednesday, it was a little wet.” “Fine! What about Tuesday, old man?” “Tuesday was the professor’s nameday and we went to entertain him with an orchestra, present him flowers and some gifts.” “Ah, carambas!” exclaimed Juanito, “that I should have forgotten about it! What an ass I am! Listen, did he ask for me?” Penitente shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know, but they gave him a list of his entertainers.” “Carambas! Listen—Monday, what happened?” “As it was the first school-day, he called the roll and assigned the lesson—about mirrors. Look, from here to here, by memory, word for word. We jump all this section, we take that.” He was pointing out with his finger in the “Physics” the portions that were to be learned, when suddenly the book flew through the air, as a result of the slap Juanito gave it from below. “Thunder, let the lessons go! Let’s have a dia pichido!” The students in Manila call dia pichido a school-day that falls between two holidays and is consequently suppressed, as though forced out by their wish. “Do you know that you really are an ass?” exclaimed Placido, picking up his book and papers. “Let’s have a dia pichido!” repeated Juanito. Placido was unwilling, since for only two the authorities were hardly going to suspend a class of more than a hundred and fifty. He recalled the struggles and privations his mother was suffering in order to keep him in Manila, while she went without even the necessities of life. They were just passing through the breach of Santo Domingo, and Juanito, gazing across the little plaza [25] in front of the old Customs building, exclaimed, “Now I think of it, I’m appointed to take up the collection.” “What collection?” “For the monument.” “What monument?”