houted an old man following him. "Cursed be the
gold hoarded up by your family to disturb our peace! Curse him! Curse
him!"

"May they hang you, heretic!" cried one of Albino's relatives. And
unable to restrain himself, he picked up a stone and threw it at
Ibarra.

The example was quickly imitated, and a shower of dust and stones
fell on the unfortunate youth.

Ibarra suffered it all, impassive, without wrath, without a
complaint--the unjust vengeance of suffering hearts. This was the
leave-taking, the "adios" tendered to him by his town, the center
of all his affections. He bowed his head. Perhaps he was thinking of
another man, whipped through the streets of Manila, of an old woman
falling dead at the sight of the head of her son. Perhaps the history
of Elias was passing before his eyes.

The cortege moved slowly on and away.

Of the persons who appeared in a few opened windows, those who
showed the most compassion for the unfortunate young man were the
indifferent and the curious. All his friends had hidden themselves;
yes, even Captain Basilio, who forbade his daughter Sinang to weep.

Ibarra saw the smouldering ruins of his house, of the house of his
fathers where he had been born, where he had lived the sweetest days
of his infancy and childhood. Tears, for a long time suppressed,
burst from his eyes. He bowed his head and wept, wept without the
consolation of being able to hide his weeping, tied as he was by the
elbows. Nor did that grief awaken compassion in anybody. Now he had
neither fatherland, home, love, friends or future.

From a height a man contemplated the funeral-like caravan. He was old,
pale, thin, wrapped in a woollen blanket and was leaning with fatigue
on a cane. It was old Tasio, who as soon as he heard of what had
happened wanted to leave his bed and attend, but his strength would
not permit it. The old man followed with his eyes the cart until it
disappeared in the distance. He stood for some time, pensive and his
head bowed down; then he arose, and laboriously started on the road
to his house, resting at every step.

The following day, shepherds found him dead on the very threshold of
his solitary retreat.

CHAPTER XXXIX

MARIA CLARA IS MARRIED.

Captain Tiago was very happy. During all this terrible time nobody
had busied himself with him. They had not arrested him, nor had they
submitted him to excommunications, court trials, electrical machines,
continual hot foo