or the stranger
or the exile who came to it in his misery. He was a good Christian;
he always did what was right. He never oppressed the helpless, nor
brought sorrow to the miserable and wretched. To this man, he opened
the door of his house. He had him sit at his table and he called
him his friend. What has he done in return? He has calumniated him,
persecuted him, has armed ignorance against him, violating the sanctity
of his office, has thrown him out of his tomb, dishonored his memory,
and persecuted him even in death's repose. And not content with that,
he now persecutes his son. I have fled from him, I have avoided his
presence. You heard him this morning profane the pulpit; you saw
him point me out to the popular fanaticism; I said nothing. Now he
comes here in search of a quarrel. To your surprise, I suffered in
silence; but he again insults the sacred memory of my father, that
memory which every son holds dear.... You who are here, you priests,
you judges, have you seen your father watching over you night and day
and working for you? Have you seen him deprive himself of you for your
good? Have you seen your father die in prison, heart broken, sighing
for some one to caress him, searching for some being to console him,
alone in sickness, while you were in a foreign land? Have you heard
his name dishonored afterward? Have you found his tomb vacant when
you wished to pray upon it? No? You are silent. Then by that silence
you condemn him!"

He raised his arm; but a young maiden, quick as a flash, put herself
between them and with her delicate hands stopped the arm of the
avenger. It was Maria Clara.

Ibarra looked at her with an expression that seemed to reflect
madness. Gradually, he loosened the vise-like fingers of his hand,
allowed the body of the Franciscan to fall, and dropped his knife
upon the ground. Covering his face, he fled through the crowd.

CHAPTER XVIII

THE FIRST CLOUD.

The house of Captain Tiago was no less disturbed than the imagination
of the people. Maria Clara, refusing to listen to the consolation
of her aunt and foster sister, did nothing but weep. Her father had
forbidden her to speak to Ibarra until the priests should absolve
him from the excommunication which they had pronounced upon him.

Captain Tiago, though very busy preparing his house for the reception
of the Governor General, had been summoned to the convent.

"Don't cry, my girl," said Aunt Isabel as she dust