t,
in the following year he would have to return to the University.

"They say that we don't know how to avenge ourselves!" he
muttered. "Let the lightning strike and we'll see!"

But Placido was not reckoning upon what awaited him in the house
of the silversmith. Cabesang Andang had just arrived from Batangas,
having come to do some shopping, to visit her son, and to bring him
money, jerked venison, and silk handkerchiefs.

The first greetings over, the poor woman, who had at once noticed her
son's gloomy look, could no longer restrain her curiosity and began
to ask questions. His first explanations Cabesang Andang regarded as
some subterfuge, so she smiled and soothed her son, reminding him of
their sacrifices and privations. She spoke of Capitana Simona's son,
who, having entered the seminary, now carried himself in the town like
a bishop, and Capitana Simona already considered herself a Mother of
God, clearly so, for her son was going to be another Christ.

"If the son becomes a priest," said she, "the mother won't have to
pay us what she owes us. Who will collect from her then?"

But on seeing that Placido was speaking seriously and reading in his
eyes the storm that raged within him, she realized that what he was
telling her was unfortunately the strict truth. She remained silent
for a while and then broke out into lamentations.

"Ay!" she exclaimed. "I promised your father that I would care for
you, educate you, and make a lawyer of you! I've deprived myself of
everything so that you might go to school! Instead of joining the
_panguingui_ where the stake is a half peso, I Ve gone only where it's
a half real, enduring the bad smells and the dirty cards. Look at my
patched camisa; for instead of buying new ones I've spent the money in
masses and presents to St. Sebastian, even though I don't have great
confidence in his power, because the curate recites the masses fast
and hurriedly, he's an entirely new saint and doesn't yet know how
to perform miracles, and isn't made of _batikulin_ but of _lanete._
Ay, what will your father say to me when I die and see him again!"

So the poor woman lamented and wept, while Placido became gloomier
and let stifled sighs escape from his breast.

"What would I get out of being a lawyer?" was his response.

"What will become of you?" asked his mother, clasping her
hands. "They'll call you a filibuster and garrote you. I've told you
that you must have patience, that you mus