d ispichoso (suspect), which had only to be said
of a man to have the guards lead him off to prison? Well, plibastiero
is worse yet; if any one calls you plibastiero, you can confess and
pay your debts, for there's nothing else left to do but get yourself
hanged. That's what the telegrapher and the sub-director say, and
you know whether the telegrapher and the sub-director ought to know:
one talks with iron wires, and the other knows Spanish, and handles
nothing but the pen."

The last hope fled.

XXX.

THE FIRST CLOUD.

The home of Captain Tiago was naturally not less disturbed than the
minds of the crowd. Maria Clara refused to be comforted by her aunt
and her foster-sister. Her father had forbidden her to speak to
Crisostomo until the ban of excommunication should be raised.

In the midst of his preparations for receiving the governor-general
Captain Tiago was summoned to the convent.

"Don't cry, my child," said Aunt Isabel, as she polished the mirrors
with a chamois skin, "the ban will be raised. They will write to the
holy father. We will make a big offering. Father Damaso only fainted;
he isn't dead!"

"Don't cry," whispered Andeng; "I will arrange to meet Crisostomo."

At last Captain Tiago came back. They scanned his face for answers to
many questions; but the face of Captain Tiago spoke discouragement. The
poor man passed his hand across his brow and seemed unable to frame
a word.

"Well, Santiago?" demanded the anxious aunt.

He wiped away a tear and replied by a sigh.

"Speak, for heaven's sake! What is it?"

"What I all the time feared," he said at last, conquering his
tears. "Everything is lost! Father Damaso orders me to break the
promise of marriage. They all say the same thing, even Father Sibyla. I
must shut the doors of my house to him, and--I owe him more than fifty
thousand pesos! I told the fathers so, but they wouldn't take it into
account. 'Which would you rather lose,' they said, 'fifty thousand
pesos or your soul?' Ah, St. Anthony, if I had known, if I had known!"

Maria Clara was sobbing.

"Don't cry, my child," he said, turning to her; "you aren't like your
mother; she never cried. Father Damaso told me that a young friend
of his is coming from Spain; he intends him for your fiance----"

Maria Clara stopped her ears.

"But, Santiago, are you mad?" cried Aunt Isabel. "Speak to her of
another fiance now? Do you think your daughter changes them as she
does her glo