the house opposite, giving passage to the head and shoulders
of sister Rufa. The two old women looked across at each other, smiled,
exchanged gestures, and signed themselves.

"Since the sack of the pueblo by Balat I've not known such a
night!" said Sister Puta.

"What a firing! They say it was the band of old Pablo."

"Tulisanes? Impossible! I heard it was the cuadrilleros against the
guards; that's why Don Filipo was arrested."

"They say at least fourteen are dead."

Other windows opened and people were seen exchanging greetings
and gossip.

By the light of the dawn, which promised a splendid day, soldiers
could now be seen dimly at the end of the street, like gray silhouettes
coming and going.

"Do you know what it was?" asked a man, with a villainous face.

"Yes, the cuadrilleros."

"No, senor, a revolt!"

"What revolt? The curate against the alferez?"

"Oh, no; nothing of that kind. It was an uprising of the Chinese."

"The Chinese!" repeated all the listeners, with great disappointment.

"That's why we don't see one!"

"They are all dead!"

"I--I suspected they had something on foot!"

"I saw it, too. Last night----"

"What a pity they are all dead before Christmas!" cried Sister
Rufa. "We shall not get their presents!"

The streets began to show signs of life. First the dogs, pigs, and
chickens began to circulate; then some little ragged boys, keeping
hold of each other's hands, ventured to approach the barracks. Two or
three old women crept after them, their heads wrapt in handkerchiefs
knotted under their chins, pretending to tell their beads, so as
not to be driven back by the soldiers. When it was certain that one
might come and go without risking a pistol shot, the men commenced
to stroll out. Affecting indifference and stroking their cocks,
they finally got as far as the tribunal.

Every quarter hour a new version of the affair was circulated. Ibarra
with his servants had tried to carry off Maria Clara, and in defending
her, Captain Tiago had been wounded. The number of dead was no longer
fourteen, but thirty. At half-past seven the version which received
most credit was clear and detailed.

"I've just come from the tribunal," said a passer, "where I saw Don
Filipo and Don Crisostomo prisoners. Well, Bruno, son of the man who
was beaten to death, has confessed everything. You know, Captain Tiago
is to marry his daughter to the young Spaniard. Don Crisostomo wanted
revenge, and pl