As we said before, the evening threatened to be stormy. The lightning flashed its pale rays across the leaden sky, the air was heavy and the slight breeze excessively sultry. Tasio had apparently already forgotten his beloved skull, and now he was smiling as he looked at the dark clouds. Near the church he met a man wearing an alpaca coat, who carried in one hand a large bundle of candles and in the other a tasseled cane, the emblem of his office as gobernadorcillo. "You seem to be merry?" he greeted Tasio in Tagalog. "Truly I am, señor capitan, I'm merry because I hope for something." "Ah? What do you hope for?" "The storm!" "The storm? Are you thinking of taking a bath?" asked the gobernadorcillo in a jesting way as he stared at the simple attire of the old man. "A bath? That's not a bad idea, especially when one has just stumbled over some trash!" answered Tasio in a similar, though somewhat more offensive tone, staring at the other's face. "But I hope for something better." "What, then?" "Some thunderbolts that will kill people and burn down houses," returned the Sage seriously. "Why don't you ask for the deluge at once?" "We all deserve it, even you and I! You, señor gobernadorcillo, have there a bundle of tapers that came from some Chinese shop, yet this now makes the tenth year that I have been proposing to each new occupant of your office the purchase of lightning-rods. Every one laughs at me, and buys bombs and rockets and pays for the ringing of bells. Even you yourself, on the day after I made my proposition, ordered from the Chinese founders a bell in honor of St. Barbara, [53] when science has shown that it is dangerous to ring the bells during a storm. Explain to me why in the year '70, when lightning struck in Biñan, it hit the very church tower and destroyed the clock and altar. What was the bell of St. Barbara doing then?" At the moment there was a vivid flash. "_Jesús, María, y José!_ Holy St. Barbara!" exclaimed the gobernadorcillo, turning pale and crossing himself. Tasio burst out into a loud laugh. "You are worthy of your patroness," he remarked dryly in Spanish as he turned his back and went toward the church. Inside, the sacristans were preparing a catafalque, bordered with candles placed in wooden sockets. Two large tables had been placed one above the other and covered with black cloth across which ran white stripes, with here and there a skull painted on it. "Is that for the souls or for the candles?" inquired the old man, but noticing two boys, one about ten and the other seven, he turned to them without awaiting an answer from the sacristans. "Won't you come with me, boys?" he asked them. "Your mother has prepared a supper for you fit for a curate." "The senior sacristan will not let us leave until eight o'clock, sir," answered the larger of the two boys. "I expect to get my pay to give it to our mother." "Ah! And where are you going now?" "To the belfry, sir, to ring the knell for the souls."