Villardo presented himself on the stage, and challenged all the Moros,
who had imprisoned his father, to a fight. The hero threatened to
cut off all their heads at a single blow and to send them all to
the moon. Fortunately for the Moros, who were making ready to fight
to the tune of the "Riego Hymn," [15] a tumult intervened. All of a
sudden, the orchestra stopped playing and the musicians made a rush
for the stage, throwing their instruments in all directions. The
brave Villardo was not expecting such a move, and, taking them
for allies of the Moros he also threw down his sword and shield and
began to run. The Moros, seeing this terrible giant fleeing, found it
convenient to imitate him. Cries, sighs, imprecations and blasphemies
filled the air. The people ran, trampled over each other, the lights
were put out, and the glass lamps with their cocoanut oil and little
wicks were flying through the air. "Tulisanes! Tulisanes!" cried
some. "Fire! Fire! Ladrones!" cried others. Women and children wept,
chairs and spectators were rolled over on the floor in the midst of
the confusion, rush and tumult.

"What has happened?"

Two Civil Guards with sticks in hand had gone after the musicians
in order to put an end to the spectacle. The teniente mayor, with
the cuaderilleros, [16] armed with their old sabers, had managed to
arrest the two Civil Guards in spite of their resistance.

"Take them to the tribunal!" shouted Don Filipo. "Be careful not to
let them get away!"

Ibarra had returned and had sought out Maria Clara. The terrified
young maidens, trembling and pale, were clinging closely to him. Aunt
Isabel was reciting the litanies in Latin.

The crowd having recovered a little from the fright and some one
having explained what had caused the rush and tumult, indignation
arose in everyone's breast. Stones rained upon the Civil Guards who
were being conducted to the tribunal by the cuaderilleros. Some one
proposed that they burn the barracks of the Civil Guards and that
they roast Dona Consolacion and the alferez alive.

"That is all that they are good for," cried a woman, rolling up her
sleeves and stretching out her arms. "They can disturb the people
but they persecute none but honorable men. They do nothing with the
tulisanes and the gamblers. Look at them! Let us burn the cuartel."

Somebody had been wounded in the arm and was asking for confession. A
plaintive voice was heard coming from under an upset bench. It