and white jipijapa hats, as
the Indians call Panamas. No one but old Tasio was in everyday costume.

"You seem even sadder than usual," the lieutenant said to him. "Because
we have so many reasons to weep, may we not laugh once in a while?"

"Yes, laugh, but not play the fool! It's the same insane orgy every
year, the same waste of money when there's so much need and so much
suffering! But I see! It's the orgy, the bacchanal, that is to still
the lamentations of the poor!"

"You know I share your opinion," said Don Filipo, half serious,
half laughing, "and that I defended it; but what can I do against
the gobernadorcillo and the curate?"

"Resign!" cries the irate old man, leaving him.

"Resign!" muttered Don Filipo, going on toward the
church. "Resign? Yes, certainly, if my post were an honor and not
a charge."

There was a crowd in the parvis, and men, women, and children
in a stream were coming and going through the narrow doors of
the church. The smell of powder mingled with that of flowers and
incense. Rockets, bombs, and serpents made women run and scream and
delighted the children. An orchestra was playing before the convent;
bands accompanied dignitaries on their way to the church, or paraded
the streets under innumerable floating and dipping flags. Light and
color distracted the eye, music and explosions the ear.

High mass was about to be celebrated. Among the congregation were
to be the chief alcalde of the province and other Spanish notables;
and last, the sermon would be given by Brother Damaso, who had the
greatest renown as a preacher.

The church was crammed. People were jostled, crushed, trampled on, and
cried out at each encounter. From far they stretched their arms to dip
their fingers in the holy water, but getting nearer, saw its color, and
the hands retired. They scarcely breathed; the heat and atmosphere were
insupportable; but the preacher was worth the endurance of all these
miseries; besides, his sermon was to cost the pueblo two hundred and
fifty pesos. Fans, hats, and handkerchiefs agitated the air; children
cried, and gave the sacristans a hard enough task getting them out.

Ibarra was in a corner. Maria Clara knelt near the high altar, where
the curate had reserved a place for her. Captain Tiago, in frock coat,
sat on the bench of authorities, and the children, who did not know
him, taking him for another gobernadorcillo, dared not go near him.

At length the alcalde arrived wi