Chapter C: L. P (2)

He walked into the heart of the city, and saw regiments of soldiers wearing the new khaki uniform, marching through the streets. His heart sank within him at the sight, and the warning Mrs. Rizal had given him recurred to his mind. Against these soldiers he knew he could do nothing, and if he should seek to maintain the Filipino independence that had been proclaimed the day previous, with hostile Spaniards on the one side and hostile Americans on the other, he saw at once that the case was hopeless. Yet, to give up his ambition, to forego independence for the Filipinos, to abandon the hope of making Ambrosia Lonzello his wife and the first lady of Luzon, to yield his new title and new honors without at least a show of resistance, was more than he felt like doing. He was perturbed, his mind flying from one resolve to another and his heart filled with one emotion after another. "And while he mused the fire burned."

"Camillo, the people are depending on their president to do something for them in this crisis. Do you feel you can gather your troops together and successfully resist the Americans?"

It was Mrs. Rizal speaking. She was standing by his side. There was no trace of exultation in her voice, but she spoke in deeply sympathetic tones.

"What would you advise?" asked the insurgent general, meekly.

"Go as the accredited leader of the Filipino people and welcome at the landing the general who comes from America. It will put America on your side, and that means against the Spaniards."

Saguanaldo considered. "I will do it," he said.

Indecision had left him. A few moments afterward, accompanied by his staff, and wearing his smartest uniform and accoutrement, he was driven to the pier, where he asked to be conveyed to the American general. His rank was at once recognized and he was taken to the commander in charge, being received by him with marked civility, and consulted relative to the placing of the American troops. Cordial relations seemed to be established between the two leaders at once; and Saguanaldo was very much gratified, after the noon hour, to receive from Judge Benjamin Daft, the man who had been sent from America to serve as civil governor of the Philippines, an invitation to visit him on shipboard.

Judge Daft was found to be a large man with a happy smile, who was very cordial in his manner. Within a very few minutes after they met Saguanaldo was smoking with him and felt at perfect ease.

"I understand," said Judge Daft, "that it is somewhat embarrassing for you, as well as for me, that I come with orders to supercede you as governor of the Philippines. But you understand that the war is not yet over, and the final termination of things is not yet determined on. I want to assure you, however, that the United States desires only the welfare of the Filipinos. I believe it would be better for us to co-operate and make sure of victory than to quarrel and possibly defeat the good that both desire."

"Vd. disponza! All I want," said Saguanaldo meekly, "is not to be humiliated."

"I feel that as a representative of the American republic I can guarantee you that. You can be of invaluable service in the field in quelling disorder and bringing opportunity to your people."

"I am not insensible to the fact that you, as representative of a great republic with standing already before the world, can command greater respect than I could do as president of the untried Filipino republic."

"A very sensible view to take of it. I am very much pleased to find so liberal and disinterested a man as you at the head of affairs. It speaks well both for the Filipino people and for the cause you represent. The American republic will remember such unselfish sentiments, and I am sure you will not lose by it."

General Saguanaldo was flattered by these remarks. They made him desire to appear oven more disinterested. He began:

"My chief concern is for the Filipinos. You can scarcely be ignorant of the injustice we have borne for centuries. We want freedom and opportunity. I ask these things for the Filipinos."

"The request does you honor, and it will do America honor to grant them. Between us all we shall be invincible. With the prestige of the American republic behind us we can command the good will of the nations. Rainey's fleet will be able to keep Cavite in subjection. The American general is an old campaigner who has with him a seasoned army and the best of equipment, so that he will be able to stand before any army that Spain can muster against him. Lastly, and most important of all, you, General, are familiar with the islands of the Philippines, and can render service as a guide and leader such as no other man on the earth can give; and in serving us you will be serving yourself and the cause of Filipino liberty. I have heard much of the Fox of Luzon, and have felt that if I could formulate a plan that would enable us all to work together harmoniously, it would be a victory second only to the great victory that Admiral Rainey won in this beautiful bay of yours."

"I will do all I can, Judge Daft. As you have said, together we shall be invincible."

"In that case I shall feel no hesitancy about landing. I did think that perhaps it was not a courteous thing to do, to come from across the great ocean to your shores and then ask you to take me in as something more than guest. But in war we can not stand on ceremony. Your disinterestedness and your courtesy have been so great that you have made it much easier for me to do my duty."

The two men wandered over the ship, Judge Daft showing Saguanaldo all the wonders of the modern man of war. They discussed various matters apart from the questions most in their minds, and always Judge Daft was courteous and apparently keenly appreciative of Saguanaldo. Following the visit of Saguanaldo to the battleship, Judge Daft visited him in the public building of Manila, and, with his permission, the American flag was run up over the town in place of the flag of the new republic. Within two days Saguanaldo went into the interior as the guide rather than the commander of an expedition which the American general sent against some Spanish troops that had, under the direction of Bishop Lonzello, been preparing to attack Saguanaldo in Manila, but that, after the Americans landed, had retired into the interior.

It was only after they had gotten into the interior that Saguanaldo began to realize his position. It came to him that, though he had been hailed as president of the Filipino republic, another occupied his capital, and the Filipino republic was at an end; though he had been the leader of an insurrection, the insurrection was inoperative; and he was fighting under another power; though he had celebrated the independence of the Filipinos, Filipino independence was gone, and he was seeking to subject the people to another foreign nation. While he was under the spell of Judge Daft's influence, he had not noticed it, but now it came to him with all its meaning and bearing all its bitterness. He felt that he had lost. He felt that he was not only unable to cope against the arms and warships of this strange republic from across the seas, but he was also unable to meet their wiles--diplomacy, they called it. He had heard the word used and now he was beginning to understand what it really meant.

"I am a fool," he said to himself. "Ambrosia knows it, and so she despises me. But if I must be beaten I will show her that at least I am no coward." It was heroism surviving folly.

So ever it is the one who influences human actions, whether they be good or bad, public or private, in nature.

VIII.

THE MIGHTY DIPLOMAT.

The day following the departure of the allied troops from Manila an English ship steamed into Manila bay, and among those who landed was a Jesuit, who came as papal nuncio, a special envoy of the pope, the astute Leo XIII. He at once hunted up Bishop Lonzello and was soon closeted with him over wine and cigars, discussing the situation.

"You see yourself the Spaniards cannot stand before the Americans. They represent the old order, the Americans the new; the old must pass. It is more than useless, it is folly, to stay with the passing policy."

"But the Spaniards are friends of the church and the Americans are its enemies."

"I fear you are short-sighted, Brother Lonzello. The Americans are to be Catholics, while the Spaniards have only been Catholics. A live dog is better than a dead lion. But the Americans are not to be despised. The republic is entering on world politics, and if the Holy Father could control that nation he would as good as control the world through it."

"But he can never control that nation; it is given to heresy."

"I do not agree with you. Neither does the Holy Father at Rome. Remember, I am speaking for him. Already we have two million voters in America. United, that means the balance of power. It is something that any candidate may well covet. But that is not all. As a result of this war America will add the Philippines to her territory, with possibly Cuba and Porto Rico besides. In time, states will be formed of these territories, and they, being almost wholly Catholic, will give America to the true religion. It is something worth working for, and the prospect makes the Holy Father eager that you should fall in with his plans."

"I can't believe it possible to make America Catholic."

The apostolic nuncio puffed his cigar in silence a moment. Then he leaned forward and said:

"Suppose we induce the capitalists of America to import a million Italians to be naturalized. Suppose we secure jobs for a million Mexicans in America and see that they are naturalized. Suppose that finally Central America and Mexico are annexed to the United States."

"Why, that is treason to the Latin and the Spanish races."

"No. It is taking advantage of new conditions. America is developed to the point where it is necessary that she should expand. If she should dig the Panama canal, it will be natural for her to close in on territory that divides her, and excuses are more easily found than grapes in a vineyard. It will aid rather than hinder the Catholic. American capitalists can pay higher wages than either the Italians or Mexicans receive and still obtain them cheaper than they get labor today. Catholic workmen will merely supercede heretics. If Mexico is taken there will be a leveling up as well as a leveling down, and the peon will gain immensely by the change."

"But it means an entire change of policy."

"The old policy has been worked to the end, and a new one is necessary. We are living in an age of machinery. Peon and slave can no longer yield the returns that the hireling can do by the aid of machinery. The returns from the Philippines can be quadrupled; and we were foolish to forego the rich harvest because it involves a change of tenants."

The friar was flushed and angry. He almost shouted.

"But that means that the Spanish friars are to lose power in the Philippines. Do you realize what you are asking us to forego?"

"Perfectly. You have had your opportunity and have made a failure of it. The natives have been rebelling against you for three hundred years. Now, Aglipay has stirred a schism that has taken from Rome a majority of our churches. So long as the Spanish friars remain in power the dissatisfaction will increase rather than diminish. It seems providential that America should come at this time, for it gives the supreme pontiff an opportunity to transfer you and by diplomacy save the work you have done for the church."

The friar sank back in his chair and thought. Then he mildly said:

"It is a hard thing you ask."

"Yes, but your order asked the same thing once of the Jesuits, and, on order of the Pope, we were expelled from the Philippines for many years. Now the supreme pontiff is merely exercising his right of transfer relative to the three orders of friars in the Philippines. It is his voice, and you will not dare disobey it."

"I suppose, of course, we shall have to submit. But it is hard. Shall we have to lose our property, our lands?"

"I come with a mission to the Americans relative to them. I have not talked with the Americans yet, but I can assure you justice. As for the churches and convents, you have lost them to the church, and it is part of my mission to regain them for the church."

"I shall have to submit. But I can not overcome my hatred of the Americans and I will not remain to knuckle to the natives. I wish I might strike them one hard blow." He brought his fist down on the table with a thump. The Jesuit was silent a moment. Then he said: "The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. You know the response."

"The lands which the supreme pontiff gave to Legaspi he may take again from the heirs of Legaspi."

"I can not for the life of me see where the holy church will profit from the change, seeing that Spain is a Catholic country and America is heretic."

"Spain will remain true to the church even if she loses. But if America wins, then we may not only win back into the fold the schismatics of the islands, but stand also a chance of winning America, and with it the world. It is the greatest, opportunity the church has had for years."

"I do not yet see how you expect to win America."

"We have been working for the conquest of America for centuries, ever since Columbus gave it to the world and dedicated it to Christ and his viceregent. After the heretics had taken possession of it, we have labored without cessation to win it back. We brought believing emigrants to the cities until we control many of them. We now have ten million population and two million voters, controlling several states and holding the balance of political power. Already the politicians are taking cognizance of us, But, more important than this, the statesmen are looking for a power that can withstand the tide of Socialism that is sweeping over the land and are ready to make concessions to us for our influence.

"The most far-seeing of American politicians recently remarked that some day Socialism would become a menace to the world and that the strongest influence to combat it would be the Roman Catholic church. Acting on this belief he has already been negotiating for our support. It was the Catholic vote that saved America from the domination of the middle class when threatened by the mob in 1896. It was members of my order who fanned the flame that led to the present war, so that America might enter on world politics. The end is not yet. The Pope sees the importance of our plans, and you must submit. We intend that in the future it shall be known that he who would succeed at the polls must have our favor. We have the power now, and we shall use it. The Brotherhood of Jesus has been banished from almost every country on the face of the globe, but in spite of this we have remained loyal to our extreme oath, and have not for a moment faltered in our purpose to make America Catholic. We are now at the point of success, and the supreme pontiff sends me to command you to yield. Is your loyalty sufficient for that? Remember, we have been driven from land after land, and show yourself as true as the Jesuits have been."

Bishop Lonzello did not reply. But he filled the two glasses, and as he raised his glass to his lips he proposed the toast:

"Leo, the greatest of Popes. When he speaks it is time for the rest of the world to be silent."

After the toast had been drunk the Jesuit father referred no more to the topic about which he had been talking. They were sitting by the window looking out on the street where quite a few people were promenading. As one woman after another passed they discussed the good points of each and waxed merry over the wine, rehearsing many salacious stories. Finally Ambrosia Lonzello passed. The Jesuit, looking on her, remarked:

"That is the woman for me. She has the woman's ten perfect points. Do you know her, Brother?"

The bishop's lips were dry and his heart was enraged as he answered, feebly, "Yes."

"Can't you give me opportunity to hear her confession?"

The bishop knew what was implied by the request, and his heart was fired with the heat of his passion. He made a motion once to kick the Jesuit down stairs. But the knowledge that he was a special envoy of the Pope, and, more than that, the counter-fire of anger at Ambrosia, and the fierce flame of his hatred of Saguanaldo, caused him to desist. Indeed, the first flames had eaten so deeply into his heart that there was little left for the flame caused by the insult to touch. He merely answered, quietly, after swallowing a little:

"That is the sweetheart of the insurgent general, Saguanaldo."

"Ah, that is good," responded the Jesuit. "You hate him and would like to wound him to the death before you go. Behold, the Lord hath delivered him into your hands. Promise me that the girl shall confess to me."

He seized the bishop's arm and leered lewdly at him. "You really must, for I am mad from continence while on the water. Some day I will do as much for you. Won't you, good Bishop?"

Bishop Lonzello clenched his fist and hissed through his teeth, "Yes; and may God damn your soul to hell."

IX.

A LITTLE GAME.

"I am very glad to meet you as a citizen, but of course it is against the policy of my country to receive you as an envoy from the Pope."

"Very well, Judge Daft, we shall not quarrel over a little thing like that."

It was the Jesuit talking to the new American governor. He had no intention of abandoning his purpose, but he meant to approach it by indirection. He knew something of diplomacy himself, and so devoted a few minutes to casual conversation. He was by nature and practice an expert in the recounting of stories, having found that an art which won where no other art was honored, and the two passed a pleasant half hour together. Finally, as Rodriguez Violeta, the Jesuit father, arose to take his departure, he said:

"If I speak purely as an individual, I presume you will not object to my asking that you treat us fairly relative to churches and church lands."

"By no means. I have no objection to telling you that I desire to treat you fairly in these and all other matters."

"Perhaps you would not object, then, to issuing an order that, until the matter can be settled in the courts, the possession of churches is to be secured to the party in possession, whether that party be the Roman Catholic church or the Filipino Catholic church. This seems to me to be fair, and I believe is in accordance with American jurisprudence."

"I shall be glad to issue an order of that nature to the soldiers in the Philippines. Anything that is mutually just will be granted you; and, while I can not receive you as envoy of the Pope, I shall take pleasure in hearing your recommendations as an individual of experience who is capable of understanding your people and presenting your side of the controversy in a fair and liberal way."

"If I can be of any service to you, it will afford me pleasure to be commanded by you. I do believe, however, that the holy father, the Pope, has a plan which would save you very much trouble. I wish you would permit me to present it--as an individual."

"You are at perfect liberty to do that. Be seated and I will hear you."

The Jesuit re-seated himself. The camel's nose had found entrance, and the rest of the body was about to follow.

"The Spanish friars are at the bottom of all the trouble in the Philippines. The Aglipayan schism came because of them, and the many revolts that have disturbed the islands for the past three centuries have been because the people wanted native rather than Spanish priests. Now Leo, who has always been friendly to America and Americans, is desirous of removing the Spanish friars from the Philippines."

Judge Daft leaned forward, evidently interested. "This concerns me greatly," he said. "Outline to me the plan more fully."

The Jesuit ignored the request. Instead of answering him directly, he observed: "This would greatly simplify matters and make your problem sensibly easier of solution."

"I am conscious of that," asserted the Judge, betraying eagerness, a weakness which revealed that he was being beaten in diplomacy.

"America can easily handle the Spanish army. Your future problems will lie with pacifying the natives and adjudicating the conflicting claim of the two churches."

"You understand the situation just as it presents itself to me."

"You have splendid opportunities here."

"You mean, to make a fool of myself?" laughed Judge Daft.

"That is an opportunity that knocks often at every man's door. But I was not thinking of that. I was merely musing--speaking aloud the thing I thought--and a man never ought to do that."

"Sometimes I think he never ought to speak aloud anything else than his undisguised thoughts. I shall insist on hearing this novel thing, the undisguised thought of a Jesuit."

"I meant, opportunity to make yourself a reputation that shall lead to future political power. Who knows but that the presidency of the United States lies along this path?"

"I am not ambitious."

"I understand that; indeed, I was not thinking so much of you as an individual as of you in your position. I was musing, you know. We Jesuits naturally look into the political possibilities of things, and I am astonished at the possibilities I see before you."

"War generally brings a warrior to the front. The people take pleasure in preferring their military heroes."

"That is very true. I perceive you are an astute politician. Because you are so far-sighted, you cannot fail to realize that if you are enabled to satisfactorily settle a dispute that has been raging for three centuries, and give America the Philippines to exploit, you will have distinguished yourself in a way that is sure to bring reward. Perhaps not at once. The military hero may come first, while your reputation is in process of building; but if you succeed, your time will come."

"The people are very forgetful."

"But men of affairs are not, and they are the folks who count. The substantial business men, who see the advantages that accrue to them because of these things, will remember; and the holy church never forgets. We alone poll two million votes in America now. But, remember, I am only musing. I am asking nothing. I shall report, however, the kindness you have shown me, which will, I feel sure, help to make your task easier."

"For your suggestions I thank you. You shall be welcome whenever you choose to call--in your individual capacity."

"You are a sly dog, Judge. I confess myself completely out-generaled in diplomacy, and have dropped it. Hereafter I wish to be known only as your friend. In the language of the Spaniards, buenas noches, amizo mio."

Never more of a diplomat than when he was claiming to have abandoned diplomacy, the priest took his departure, knowing that he had left thoughts that would cling and bear fruit. He understood that, though the Judge might have been able to handle the simple-minded Saguanaldo by his diplomacy, every good has its better and he had been bested without realizing it. It is the true test of wit that cuts so smoothly one does not know of his wound at the time it is given.

The Jesuit sought Bishop Lonzello and spoke imperiously and exultantly:

"I am to have an order from the American governor that the soldiers are to protect in possession either side of the controversy that may have possession of churches and convents. You want to summon all you can command and seize at night on all these buildings that you can. You haven't half of them now, and by this means you may secure practically all of them. And the American army is pledged to maintain you in possession of them, once you are in charge. There is no time for delay."

Lonzello was not a man who needed to have explained to him the advantage this gave the friars. He sprang up, before the Jesuit was through speaking, and began preparing to go on the street and set his machinery in motion.

"You will not find me sleeping," he said.

The Jesuit leered: "Am I to confess that young woman as my reward?"

Lonzello opened the door and showed him from the room, kicking at him as he passed. Once the Jesuit was outside, however, he said:

"I will send the girl to the cathedral at ten o'clock tomorrow."

Then he closed the door.

X.

SECRETS.

Ambrosia's mother had again received a visit from Bishop Lonzello. This time he had insisted that his daughter confess in order that she might be forgiven and the curse pronounced against her rendered null. It is possible that the bishop himself believed that the curse held power. Certain it is that the woman feared it and had wept almost constantly since that day that it had been pronounced on Ambrosia. Now she fell in with the idea of Ambrosia confessing and securing release from the curse. She brought the matter before her daughter, who demurred. Then she urged it with such insistence, declaring that filial duty required some reparation on her part, that Ambrosia was touched, and, at the same time, being plagued by the importunity of her mother, consented to confess, and even to confess before the foreign friar, in the church against which she was in rebellion. Indeed, she preferred the foreigner to one of the priests who had long resided in the islands and fallen with its ways.

Behold, then, Ambrosia Lonzello at the cathedral before the confessional in which Violeta was seated. She did not know it, but the moment she entered the confessional the door had been locked behind her by an attendant, at the signal from the officiating priest.

Ambrosia knelt at the confessional, troubled in heart. She felt out of place in a church against which she was in rebellion; and, while feeling that she ought to atone for disrespect shown a father, still she knew not what to say. She knelt in prayer, and as she prayed, the priest within the cell gazed upon her with lustful eyes, studying her points as a sportsman might study the creature he meant to kill and devour. As he looked, the appetite for sex, the fiercest passion that sways mankind, took possession of and began to rage within him. Finally he spoke:

"Daughter, have you been guilty of disloyalty to the holy church? Have you consorted with those who are the enemies of the religion and of their country?"

Naturally, the question, so unexpected, disconcerted the girl kneeling before the cell with her eyes so downcast that she did not see the priest within the cell. Various emotions surged within her. Her first impulse was to deny rebellion to true religion and rush from the church. But she concluded that it were best to remain and admit the thing that had caused her mother sorrow. So she confessed:

"I have met the general of the insurrectionists and am his friend. But I am not an enemy of the true religion."

"Have you met him at night?"

The girl, although, knowing it compromised her, said softly, "Yes."

"Late at night or early in the morning?"

Again she faltered as she replied, "Both."

"Were you two alone?"

"Yes."

"Did he employ embraces or kisses toward you?"

Still lower, hardly above a whisper, "Yes; but we are engaged."

"Did he caress you, feeling over your person with his hands--like this?"

The priest's hands were upon her, and he was taking liberties no other man had ever done. She tried to arise from the cushion where she knelt, but strong arms about her prevented. Then the priest stepped from the confessional and held her in his arms.

"Did he kiss you--like this?" the priest asked. "Did he press you to his bosom--like this?" She was now in his embrace, struggling in vain to free herself. "Nay, do not struggle, little bird. If you grant such favors to enemies of religion, you ought not to refuse them to representatives of the Lord."

"How can you call yourself a representative of the Lord when you do these things?" she managed to ask between his kisses.

"Why, Chuleta, did not the Holy Ghost overshadow even the blessed virgin? And is it not an honor to be embraced by one who stands, as it were, in the very person of Christ? If you have yielded to the enemy of the Master, ought you not yield to the true representative of the Master, and so make atonement to him?"

For answer, she managed to free one hand and slap his face.

"You do not know the manner of my country," said the priest, thrusting his hand in her bosom. "The instructions for confession, issued by Saint Liguori, says: 'Kisses, embraces, squeezing of the hands and similar things not indecent, if done only as marks of affability or benevolence, according to the custom of the country, in an honest way, are not sins.' Again: 'To speak, hear, read, write indecent things with a legitimate reason is no sin. Hence, in order to administer the sacrament of penance priests can lawfully hear and read all they wish.' Tell me what this insurgent did to you."

The girl wrenched herself away, and, flying to the door, tried to open it. The priest stood and smiled.

"The case is hopeless," he said. "You might as well confess."

"Have you no regard for your sacred calling? Have you no regard for this sacred place?" she asked.

"Nothing is more sacred than love," said he. "Saint Liguori says: 'Concerning the locality, every external carnal action, although hidden in a sacred place, is a sacrilege. However, cells, a cloister, the vestry, the roof above the church, its door and vestibule, are excluded.' You see we are excused."

"Excused! Oh, the wickedness of your heart! I wonder not that Saguanaldo broke away from the church you represent."

"Nay, child, you misunderstand. If it is given to Peter and his successors to forgive sins, then whatever they may do can be no sin, but is, as it were, the act of God himself. You who think your highest virtue is to love God ought to esteem it an honor that you have provoked the love of God's representative on earth."

"Fiend!" shrieked the girl. "Help, help!" The words echoed from the wall, but seemed to penetrate no further.

There was no response, and the priest smiled: "It is foolish to resist the Lord who loves you," he said. "It is in my power to absolve you from sin, and even to grant you indulgence to commit that which might under other circumstances be sin. Don't be foolish, child."

He sought to grasp her in his arms again, but she eluded him. Then he began in a pleading voice:

"Is it my fault that I love you? Why are you not as kind to me as you were to that heretic? You are in the confessional, and I can not only absolve you from sin, but I am also pledged to secrecy. Be kind to me."

"Oh, loathsome thing, I hate you."

"But I love you."

"Love, indeed! You pollute the word, like you do the office you hold and the building here and all else that should be sacred."

"You know not how I love you. Oh, how I long toward you! 'Item ordinarie mortalia nabenda sunt escula in ore, seu lingua in ore introducta vel excepta. [11]' Are you not, indeed, the bride of Christ?"

"Oh, devil that you are! It is you who have confessed to me, and though you live to be a century of age, confessing every day such villainy as this, I could but hate you worse with every morn, and never could forgive you. If there is hell, where he who burns in lust and anger, burns in flame, then there's your place. If there is a heaven that hears the voice of innocence, sending the white angels down to give it succor, then will the heaven open now, and white-robed creatures will deliver me. Oh, thou divine Christ, come now and judge between us. Oh, God of purity, deliver me from this, thine enemy."

"You do not understand. I wish you no wrong. Love is not wrong."

"Love thinketh no evil."

"Love is not expressed in words. It never can be told, but in embraces and fondlings. Christ, how I love you and long toward you! 'Delectatio venerea autem seu carnalisest ca, quea oritur ex commotione spiritum genertioni inservientum et sentitur circa partes genitales.' You can not comprehend how I am stirred."

"You know not how you fright me. Oh, sir, I plead with you to let me go. Do not for a moment's passion damn your own soul and ruin me forever. Show but the manhood that will set me free, and for that manhood's sake I will say that, though tempted, you had the hardihood to overcome, and I, for that hardihood that won, will be silent as to all you have done and said."

"What do you think I am? Does the sportsman set the bird free when it chirps? I am not so foolish or so weak."

"Then let me ask one thing: Did my father deliver me into your hands?"

"Is the Bishop Lonzello your father?"

"He is."

"Oh, then I understand some things that have been dark. I also have full license now for anything I can do, and you can find no fault in the fault that marked both your parents. Come and give me a kiss, like a good girl, Chuleta!"

"God in heaven, send me protection," gasped the girl in a faint voice.

A moment later the priest grasped her in his arms, and his lips seized hers in a long, hard, passionate kiss.

XI.

WHAT RUIN MEANS.

Early the following morning Ambrosia Lonzello was released from the convento [12] in which she had been detained the night long, and staggered into the street. Suffering physically, nervous almost to prostration, and mentally overwhelmed with horror, she walked, she scarcely knew where. She felt that she dare not go home--that father and mother had betrayed her, and that now she was an outcast, with no friend and with no place on earth. Even heaven had been deaf to her call, and she felt that the divine Father, too, and the Christ who had sympathized with Magdalene, cared nothing for her.

It is a wise provision of nature, apparently attesting her sympathy with suffering, that when sorrow and pain tug almost to the point of destruction at the heart or body, she provides her own opiate. In the article of death almost all creatures are at peace, and fear nothing. Gradually this numbness came over Ambrosia. She apparently could not realize all that had happened. She ceased to feel the full burden of her anguish, and became numb, as it were. She no longer planned, she followed her heart. Indeed, she became more conscious of the glory of the morning than of her own ruin, and in spite of her mind's declaration that there was no place in the world for her, she saw nature beautiful and friendly about her and felt that not yet had God excluded her.

Her brain would not work, but her heart thought of Saguanaldo and those whom she had thought to be her friends. It was this thread invisible that led her to the camp of the Americans. When she arrived she met first a minor officer and asked to be shown to the commander in charge.

"All right, Miss, just go into the tent and wait until I bring him," was the reply to her request.

She entered the tent and seated herself. As she waited a feeling of drowsiness overpowered her. Finally, scarcely knowing what she did, she threw herself on the cot in the tent and slept. The soldier who occupied the tent peeped in and saw her.

"Gee," said he to his messmate, "she don't want the commander now. She has already made a night of it and needs nothing so bad as sleep."

"Let's wait till she awakens and then keep her to ourselves."

"We ought to have some rent for our tent."

"Sure."

When Ambrosia awakened several hours later one of the soldiers was at her side and the tent was closed and darkened. She remained in the tent two days, during which time she was repeatedly assaulted by the two soldiers. Instead of finding a refuge, she had merely fallen into another trap. There really is no escape for a creature that is hunted, especially if that creature be a woman.

XII.

A CHANGE OF SEX.

When next Ambrosia Lonzello regained consciousness she was reposing in a room familiar to her, at the home of Mrs. Rizal. After her last bitter experience she had been cast into the street in a fever and delirium, and, happily for her, had soon been picked up by Mrs. Rizal, who had taken her to her home and nursed her through a siege of fever. Now, as Ambrosia opened her eyes with a rational look, Mrs. Rizal, smiling on her, said:

"You are better now."

"How do I come to be here?" asked the girl in confusion.

"I found you wandering on the street in a fever and brought you here."

"Oh, then it is true," cried the girl in horror as memory came to her. "I must go, I am not fit to be in this room with you."

"Nonsense," responded the older woman, smoothing her pillow. "You have been having bad dreams, and you must forget about them."

"Are you sure they were dreams?"

"Perfectly. You have been very sick."

"Where is mother?"

"She has been to see you often, and will come again."

"Did she say where I had been?"

"She said you had started to confessional, and I suppose the fever came upon you while you were on the way."

The girl lay silent for a time. Finally tears gathered in her eyes. It was a good sign that the power of crying had returned to her; tears are a mark of humanity, and only they who are dehumanized or rendered outcasts by persecution or sorrow are unable to weep. Mrs. Rizal stooped and kissed the girl. It was the one act of sympathy she needed to break up the fountains of her heart, for it showed that she was not entirely abandoned, and Ambrosia wept unrestrainedly.

"You will be better now," said Mrs. Rizal when the flood of tears had passed.

"Does--General Saguanaldo know?" asked Ambrosia.

"If he did, he would have come." Again it was the wisest word that could have been spoken, simple and unlearned though it may have been, for it intimated that her lover had not ceased to care, and this was of all things the most consoling. Yet a moment after it occurred to Ambrosia that if Saguanaldo had desired to come and not been able, he, too, had been burdened and in trouble. Then it was, with a woman's abnegation, Ambrosia thought of the woe of her dear one rather than of her own sorrow, and this, too, was an advantage to her.

"Are they having trouble at the front?" she asked.

"Yes," Mrs. Rizal replied. "The friars have seized on the churches, the hospitals and convents, and now the American troops are maintaining them in possession of the property they hold. It is the same as though the Americans, after Saguanaldo had turned the city of Manila over to them, had turned against him and were making war on him and in favor of the friars."

"Someone is behind this change," declared the girl after a moment's thought.

"Yes, there is a Jesuit here, an envoy from the Pope."

Ambrosia sat up in bed, her eyes distended in horror.

"Then it is true," she said. "It was not a dream. It was good in you to care for me and not desert me in my pollution, but I know now it is true, and you need not deny it."

"But,"--began Mrs. Rizal.

"I will not talk about it," interrupted the girl, "and God will reward you who are so different from other women in that you did not turn away from the victim as from a thing polluted. No, do not interrupt. I am strong now. There is only one thing I may do with the remnant of life left to me. I have no longer father or mother, God or redeemer. I have no place in society on earth. I have no lover, no chance for home or respectability. But I have hope and a purpose. It has just come to me. Do not deny me in the plan I have."

"I will listen to your plan, but you are weak and not yet able to do anything."

The girl leaped out of the bed, let down her hair and hunted a pair of shears. "Cut off my hair, closely," she said.

"I fear you are not yet over the fever," remonstrated Mrs. Rizal.

"I have had no fever," said the girl, "and I am well. I shall be strong for vengeance and justice. Nay, do not fear, good Mother Rizal, I am sane."

"You have not told me your plan."

"Inasmuch as Ambrosia Lonzello has lost all place in society and on earth, she had the fever and is dead. She is merely another victim of the friars. I, who stand before you, am not Ambrosia Lonzello. I am a man, now and henceforth. I feel within me the vigor and courage of manhood, proving the transformation. Henceforth I shall live only for vengeance and to assist Saguanaldo, who had been Ambrosia's friend. Cut off the hair that belies my sex, and then we all go to the field to give our lives for the cause."

Mrs. Rizal expostulated, but in vain. She argued as to the girl's lack of strength, but was actually laughed out of the idea. At last she fell in with the plan, both as being in accord with her own desire and also as being perhaps the only course open to the girl after what had happened.

A few hours afterward, then, the transformation was completed. The girl, with her hair cropped close and wearing a suit that had belonged in days past to Dr. Rizal, looked very much like a vigorous young man, and Mrs. Rizal was gratified to find that she showed no sign of failing physical powers. Indeed, she was to all appearance well again.

"You see, I have merely been transformed into a new creature," said the youth, smiling and showing two rows of perfect white teeth. "My name is Hilario Agonoy, at your service." Bowing low.

"When shall we go to the seat of war?"

"Mañana [13]," replied the youth, gaily. "Don't you see that Ambrosia is dead?"

XIII.

OFF TO THE WAR.

The next day Mrs. Rizal and her companion, known as Hilario Agonoy, set out into the country to join Saguanaldo.

After they had proceeded a few miles beyond the city they walked along through the jungle over a trail that was rough, stumpy, stony, and at places almost overgrown and hidden by bamboo growths, trees, ferns, and tropical grasses. Occasionally they came to a grass hut in the midst of a little clearing, and here the friendly peasants, who for the most part, knew Mrs. Rizal, extended their hospitality in the form of invitations to remain with them. In places the women would be at work in the rice fields or cultivating tobacco or sugar cane. They were barefoot and bare armed, wearing only shifts that but partly enveloped them, meagerly concealing their fine physiques. Sometimes a man, barefoot and wearing only two garments, would be seen following the carabao, the native ox, as it dragged the wooden plow that scratched the soil.

There were fields of abace or native hemp, rice and indigo. Sometimes the pilgrims would pass through groves of mahogany or cashu and see men at work with bolos, felling trees for lumber, or with sierras [14] slowly cutting boards from teque or mahogany. Sometimes they saw them grinding cane in the trapiche [15]. Sometimes at night they saw the zanita, the Philippine bee, working by moonlight and storing its honey on the underside of slanting branches; and one day, when the bees were asleep Agonoy climbed a tree while the two laughed at his struggles, and the honey he obtained constituted their supper. They passed haciendas [16] and pueblos [17]. Once they came upon a cemetery where a couple of corpses were hanging, because the friends of the dead could or would not put up enough money to pay for the continuous burial in consecrated ground. Occasionally they were "given a lift," to use an American expression, on a carata, behind a carabao. They saw at times the timid galina del monte, the wild chickens that ranged the forests, and at other times were regaled with the anona or custard apple.

Now and then there were streams to cross. For the most part these were waded or passed over on logs felled to bridge them, though in a few cases there were rustic bridges made of bamboo curiously woven together.

Everywhere poverty was visible, poverty abject and pitiable.

Now and then they came to villages where there were fine brick churches and conventos; and a few other good buildings, beside many huts that under the operation of the Spanish law poor people were enabled to build. The churches were guarded by American soldiers, and in almost every village the inevitable convento was occupied by officers of the American army. Invariably the friar lands were better cultivated and of a better quality than elsewhere, and resembled the old plantations in the American southern states when they were kept in good condition by slave labor; for the peasants bore the marks of poverty and hard work.

The weather was enervating at all times, and often dismal from the drenching tropical rains, for it was the rainy season. Streams were up and the trails were muddy. During the heat of the day a choking malarial steam arose from the earth as the moisture evaporated. The people were kept much indoors. It was too disagreeable even for a revolt against Spain.

They inquired in private for Saguanaldo, and were told that he had deserted the American army and gone into the interior. Others of the Filipinos had followed his lead in desertion, but it seemed that they had not yet come together into anything like an army. As to his exact location, nobody knew. The Americans were looking for him, too, and the natives were careful, even before Mrs. Rizal and Agonoy, to not say too much.

"The Americans are going to force us into fighting them," a Filipino told them in one of the villages. "They are overbearing and insulting, calling us 'niggers' and treating us as inferiors."

"I feared as much. The Philippines are too rich for them to give up. They want the islands for themselves."

"Let me show you."

The Filipino led them to a hut where a man lay on a mat within, evidently seriously injured.

"The Americans gave him the water cure. This punishment was first learned from the Filipinos themselves." Said the Filipino: "They laid him on his back and pinioned his limbs. Then they put a funnel in his mouth and held his nose while they poured him so full of water that it ran out of his nose and eyes and ears. It was horrible torture."

"Why did they do it?" asked Agonoy, with sinking heart.

"In order to force him to reveal the whereabouts of Saguanaldo. You see why I have to be careful as to what I say. All I can do is to direct you to go on still further."

On they went passing into the primitive. They went even into the region of the head hunters, where the beautiful and symmetrical volcano, Mayon, lifted its green sides against the blue sky beyond; and here they saw the warriors who adhered to the old ways, and, severing the heads of their enemies with the bolos which they used also for clearing the roads through the bamboo brakes, dried them and retained the gruesome relics, reduced to a few inches in diameter, as trophies of war.

But the savage tribes were kind to the pilgrims. They, too, were at enmity with Spain and all they regarded as foreigners, ready to take sides with Saguanaldo should he call them forth.

"It seems to me they are more civilized and gentle in their way than are the people from the West," said Agonoy.

"No people are so destructive and wasteful as those who call themselves civilized," returned Mrs. Rizal. "I am of them and understand them, and I tremble for the future of the Filipinos. The Americans will bring the foreigner and the natives will disappear before him. They will bring the machine, and such as remain will be chained to it, and compelled to render to them a tribute many times in excess of that which Spain has exacted from you. You have been poor, but you have not starved. Civilization brings the slum and abject hunger."

Agonoy answered not. He was thinking about something that to him seemed to be a dream, yet which he knew to be true--of the awful experiences of a girl, to all intents and purposes dead, who had suffered at the hands of civilization, the apex of possible human suffering.

So the two walked on and on. Sometimes they heard of Saguanaldo, and again lost trace of him. They passed on into wilder regions, into places infested by mosquitoes, snakes and other loathsome things; to regions where mango birds were numerous and where the pigeon of the crucifixion with the red cross on its breast had its habitat. Often lost, they could go but slowly; sometimes they slept alone in the great forests. But ever they pressed on.

Finally, after days out, the two travelers came upon Saguanaldo in a grass hut in a thicket near the southern end of the island. As they approached, piloted by a friendly Igorrote, Saguanaldo arose in evident surprise. After exchanging greetings Mrs. Rizal said:

"General Saguanaldo, we came to take with you the fortunes of war."

"Señora Rizal, you are welcome. We shall need all the soldiers we can gather, and your advice will be valuable in this time of trouble. The name of the boy"--

"Hilario Agonoy," said Mrs. Rizal, quickly.

"You are welcome. Señora Rizal and the boy; we shall want you both at the council of war which we are about to hold."

"Private soldiers are not often taken into councils," suggested Agonoy.

"Oh, yes, they are when there are only three present," suggested Saguanaldo, with grim humor. But Agonoy did not join in the laugh that followed.

By Saguanaldo's side sat Bishop Aglipay, Obispo Maximo, the leader of the revolt against the friars. Only these four were left, though others were ready to take up arms when Saguanaldo suggested. It was a pitiful remnant of the gay throng that had such a short time ago celebrated Philippine independence, hailing Saguanaldo as president. Saguanaldo began:

"We shall need to confer as to the best mode of procedure, because we are in desperate situation. We are in a much worse shape than before the American army came. Then we were in possession of more than half the churches in the Philippines, and besides that, held Manila. But now I have been tricked away from the Philippine capital, and the American troops are protecting the churches for the friars."

"How did they come to get the churches which you had?" Mrs. Rizal was addressing Aglipay. She knew, but wanted his version of it.