panish!"

The madwoman understood the boy and began to sing the _Song of
the Night_. Dona Consolacion listened at first with a sneer, which
disappeared little by little from her lips. She became attentive, then
serious, and even somewhat thoughtful. The voice, the sentiment in the
lines, and the song itself affected her--that dry and withered heart
was perhaps thirsting for rain. She understood it well: "The sadness,
the cold, and the moisture that descend from the sky when wrapped in
the mantle of night," so ran the _kundiman_, seemed to be descending
also on her heart. "The withered and faded flower which during the
day flaunted her finery, seeking applause and full of vanity, at
eventide, repentant and disenchanted, makes an effort to raise her
drooping petals to the sky, seeking a little shade to hide herself and
die without the mocking of the light that saw her in her splendor,
without seeing the vanity of her pride, begging also that a little
dew should weep upon her. The nightbird leaves his solitary retreat,
the hollow of an ancient trunk, and disturbs the sad loneliness of
the open places--"

"No, don't sing!" she exclaimed in perfect Tagalog, as she rose with
agitation. "Don't sing! Those verses hurt me."

The crazy woman became silent. The boy ejaculated, "_Aba!_ She talks
Tagalog!" and stood staring with admiration at his mistress, who,
realizing that she had given herself away, was ashamed of it, and as
her nature was not that of a woman, the shame took the aspect of rage
and hate; so she showed the door to the imprudent boy and closed it
behind him with a kick.

Twisting the whip in her nervous hands, she took a few turns around
the room, then stopping suddenly in front of the crazy woman, said
to her in Spanish, "Dance!" But Sisa did not move.

"Dance, dance!" she repeated in a sinister tone.

The madwoman looked at her with wandering, expressionless eyes, while
the alfereza lifted one of her arms, then the other, and shook them,
but to no purpose, for Sisa did not understand. Then she began to
jump about and shake herself, encouraging Sisa to imitate her. In
the distance was to be heard the music of the procession playing
a grave and majestic march, but Dona Consolacion danced furiously,
keeping other time to other music resounding within her. Sisa gazed at
her without moving, while her eyes expressed curiosity and something
like a weak smile hovered around her pallid lips: the lady's dancing
amu