it fell, throwing its rider
into the mud. They also say that the man went on his way tranquilly
without taking any notice of the five bullets that were fired after
him by the alferez, who was blind with mud and rage. As the man was
entirely unknown to him it was supposed that he might be the famous
Elias who came to the province several months ago, having come from
no one knows where. He has given the Civil Guard cause to know him
in several towns for similar actions."

"Then he's a tulisan?" asked Victoria shuddering.

"I don't think so, for they say that he fought against some tulisanes
one day when they were robbing a house."

"He hasn't the look of a criminal," commented Sinang.

"No, but he looks very sad. I didn't see him smile the whole morning,"
added Maria Clara thoughtfully.

So the afternoon passed away and the hour for returning to the
town came. Under the last rays of the setting sun they left
the woods, passing in silence by the mysterious tomb of Ibarra's
ancestors. Afterwards, the merry talk was resumed in a lively manner,
full of warmth, beneath those branches so little accustomed to hear
so many voices. The trees seemed sad, while the vines swung back and
forth as if to say, "Farewell, youth! Farewell, dream of a day!"

Now in the light of the great red torches of bamboo and with the
sound of the guitars let us leave them on the road to the town. The
groups grow smaller, the lights are extinguished, the songs die away,
and the guitar becomes silent as they approach the abodes of men. Put
on the mask now that you are once more amongst your kind!

CHAPTER XXV

In the House of the Sage

On the morning of the following day, Ibarra, after visiting his lands,
made his way to the home of old Tasio. Complete stillness reigned in
the garden, for even the swallows circling about the eaves scarcely
made any noise. Moss grew on the old wall, over which a kind of ivy
clambered to form borders around the windows. The little house seemed
to be the abode of silence.

Ibarra hitched his horse carefully to a post and walking almost on
tiptoe crossed the clean and well-kept garden to the stairway, which
he ascended, and as the door was open, he entered. The first sight that
met his gaze was the old man bent over a book in which he seemed to be
writing. On the walls were collections of insects and plants arranged
among maps and stands filled with books and manuscripts. The old man
was so absorbed in h