disappeared.

"Look what you've done to my husband and my son!" Doray cried to
him. "Look at my poor son! You've robbed him of his father!"

So the sorrow of the families was converted into anger toward the
young man, who was accused of having started the trouble. The alferez
gave the order to set out.

"You're a coward!" the mother-in-law of Andong cried after
Ibarra. "While others were fighting for you, you hid yourself, coward!"

"May you be accursed!" exclaimed an old man, running along beside
him. "Accursed be the gold amassed by your family to disturb our
peace! Accursed! Accursed!"

"May they hang you, heretic!" cried a relative of Albino's. Unable
to restrain himself, he caught up a stone and threw it at the youth.

This example was quickly followed, and a rain of dirt and stones fell
on the wretched young man. Without anger or complaint, impassively he
bore the righteous vengeance of so many suffering hearts. This was the
parting, the farewell, offered to him by the people among whom were
all his affections. With bowed head, he was perhaps thinking of a man
whipped through the streets of Manila, of an old woman falling dead
at the sight of her son's head; perhaps Elias's history was passing
before his eyes.

The alferez found it necessary to drive the crowd back, but the
stone-throwing and the insults did not cease. One mother alone did not
wreak vengeance on him for her sorrows, Capitana Maria. Motionless,
with lips contracted and eyes full of silent tears, she saw her two
sons move away; her firmness, her dumb grief surpassed that of the
fabled Niobe.

So the procession moved on. Of the persons who appeared at the
few open windows those who showed most pity for the youth were the
indifferent and the curious. All his friends had hidden themselves,
even Capitan Basilio himself, who forbade his daughter Sinang to weep.

Ibarra saw the smoking ruins of his house--the home of his fathers,
where he was born, where clustered the fondest recollections of his
childhood and his youth. Tears long repressed started into his eyes,
and he bowed his head and wept without having the consolation of being
able to hide his grief, tied as he was, nor of having any one in whom
his sorrow awoke compassion. Now he had neither country, nor home,
nor love, nor friends, nor future!

From a slight elevation a man gazed upon the sad procession. He was an
old man, pale and emaciated, wrapped in a woolen blanket, supporting