"Senor Alcalde," he said to him, as he entered the room, "in order
to avoid a repetition of scenes such as Your Honor witnessed this
afternoon, scenes which I deplore because they take away the prestige
of the Government and all Spaniards, I want to commend to you warmly
Senor Ibarra, that you may not only aid him in carrying out his
patriotic ends, but also prevent in the future any person of whatever
class or under whatever pretext, from molesting him."

The Alcalde understood the reprimand and bowed to conceal his
confusion.

"Have the alferez, who is in command here, informed to the same
effect. And you will find out if it is true that this officer has
methods of procedure that are not in accordance with the regulations. I
have heard more than one complaint on this score."

Captain Tiago, all starched and ironed, presented himself.

"Don Santiago," said His Excellency, in a cordial tone of voice,
"a little while ago I was congratulating you on having a daughter
like the Senorita de los Santos. Now I want to congratulate you on
your future son-in-law. The most virtuous of daughters is certainly
worthy of the best citizen of the Philippines. Is the date of the
wedding known?"

"Senor!" stammered the Captain, wiping away the perspiration which
was running down his face.

"O, come! I see that there is nothing definite. If you need godfathers,
I will be one of them with the greatest pleasure. I would do it to
take away the bad taste which so many of the weddings which I have
attended here have left in my mouth," he added, turning to the Alcalde.

"Yes, senor!" replied Captain Tiago, with a smile which inspired
compassion.

Ibarra had gone in search of Maria Clara, almost on a run. He had so
many things to tell her. He heard some gentle voices in one of the
rooms and knocked at the door.

"Who knocks?" asked Maria Clara.

The voices were silenced and the door ... was not opened.

"It is I. May I come in?" asked the young man, his heart beating
violently.

The silence was not broken. A few seconds afterward gentle steps
approached the door and Sinang's cheerful voice murmured through the
key-hole: "Crisostomo, we are going to the theatre to-night. Write
what you have to say to Maria Clara."

Then the footsteps were heard retreating, as quickly as they had come.

"What does that mean!" murmured Ibarra to himself, as he went slowly
away from the door.

CHAPTER XX

THE PROCESSION.

In the e