accusations."

Ibarra looked around him in a stupefied manner.

"Then, help me! There in those bags I have my family letters. Sort
out those from my father, which are, perhaps, the ones that would
incriminate me. Read the signatures."

Ibarra, stunned and overwhelmed, opened and closed drawers, collected
papers, hastily read letters, tore up some, kept others, took down
books and thumbed through some of them. Elias did the same, if indeed
with less confusion, with equal zeal. But he stopped, with eyes wide
open, turned over a paper which he had in his hand and asked in a
trembling voice:

"Did your family know Don Pedro Eibarramendia?"

"Certainly!" replied Ibarra, opening a drawer and taking out a pile
of papers. "He was my great-grandfather."

"Your great grandfather? Don Pedro Eibarramendia?" he again asked,
with livid features and a changed appearance.

"Yes," replied Ibarra, distracted. "We cut short the name, for it
was too long."

"He was a Basque?" said Elias approaching him.

"Yes; but what's the matter?" he asked, surprised.

Elias closed his fist, shook it in Ibarra's face and looked at
him. Crisostomo stepped back as soon as he read the expression on
that face.

"Do you know who Don Pedro Eibarramendia was?" he asked between
his teeth. "Don Pedro Eibarramendia was that wretch who accused my
grandfather and caused all our misery.... I was looking for one of
his name. God has given you into my hands.... Account to me for our
misfortunes."

Ibarra looked at him terrified. Elias shook him by the arm and,
in a bitter voice, filled with hate, said:

"Look at me well; see if I have suffered, and you, you live, you love,
you have fortune, home, consideration. You live ... you live!"

And, beside himself, he ran toward a small collection of arms, but
he had scarcely grasped two swords when he let them fall, and, like
a madman, looked at Ibarra, who remained immovable.

"What am I to do?" he said and fled from the house.

CHAPTER XXXV

THE CATASTROPHE.

There in the dining-room Captain Tiago, Linares, and Aunt Isabel were
eating supper. In the sala the rattling of plate and tableware was
heard. Maria Clara had said that she did not care to eat and had seated
herself at the piano. By her side was jolly Sinang, who murmured little
secrets in Maria's ear, while Father Salvi uneasily paced the sala.

It was not because the convalescent had no appetite that she was
not eating. It was