barra smiled and answered by a movement of the head, which might
have meant anything.

Chatting and laughing, the merry party went on past the brilliantly
illuminated houses. At length they came to one fast closed and dark. It
was the home of the alferez. Maria was astonished.

"It's that old sorceress. The Muse of the Municipal Guard, as Tasio
calls her," said Sinang. "Her house is in mourning because the people
are gay."

At a corner of the plaza, where a blind man was singing, an uncommon
sight offered itself. A man stood there, miserably dressed, his
head covered by a great salakot of palm leaves, which completely
hid his face, though from its shadow two lights gleamed and went out
fitfully. He was tall, and, from his figure, young. He pushed forward
a basket, and after speaking some unintelligible words drew back and
stood completely isolated. Women passing put fruit and rice into his
basket, and at this he came forward a little, speaking what seemed
to be his thanks.

Maria Clara felt the presence of some great suffering. "Who is it?" she
asked Iday.

"It's a leper. He lives outside the pueblo, near the Chinese cemetery;
every one fears to go near him. If you could see his cabin! The wind,
the rain, and the sun must visit him as they like."

"Poor man!" murmured Maria Clara, and hardly knowing what she did,
she went up and put into the basket the reliquary her father had just
given her.

"Maria!" exclaimed her friends.

"I had nothing else," she said, forcing back the tears.

"What will he do with the reliquary? He can't sell it! Nobody will
touch it now! If only it could be eaten!" said Sinang.

But the leper went to the basket, took the glittering thing in his
hands, fell on his knees, kissed it, and bent his head to the ground,
uncovering humbly. Maria Clara turned her face to hide the tears.

As the leper knelt, a woman crept up and knelt beside him. By her long,
loose hair and emaciated face the people recognized Sisa. The leper,
feeling her touch, sprang up with a cry; but, to the horror of the
crowd, she clung to his arm.

"Pray! Pray!" said she. "It is the Feast of the Dead! These lights
are the souls of men. Pray for my sons!"

"Separate them! Separate them!" cried the crowd; but no one dared
do it.

"Do you see the light in the tower? That is my son Basilio, ringing
the bells. Do you see that other in the manse? That is my son Crispin;
but I cannot go to them, because the curate is ill