3. NARRATOR:
It was not two beautiful and well-gowned
young women that attracted the attention of
all, even including Fray Sibyla, nor was it his
Excellency the Captain-General with his
staff, that the lieutenant should start from his
abstraction and take a couple of steps
forward, or that Fray Damaso should look as
if turned to stone; it was simply the original of
the oil-painting leading by the hand a young
man dressed in deep mourning.
4. FRAY DAMASO:
“Good evening, gentlemen!
CAPITAN TIYAGO:
Good evening, Padre! (he kissed the
hands of the priests, who forgot to bestow
upon him their benediction).
CAPITAN TIYAGO:
“I have the honor of presenting to you
Don Crisostomo Ibarra, the son of my
deceased friend. “The young gentleman has
just arrived from Europe and I went to meet
him.”
5. NARRATOR:
At the mention of the name exclamations were
heard. The lieutenant forgot to pay his respects to
his host and approached the young man, looking him
over from head to foot. The young man himself at
that moment was exchanging the conventional
greetings with all in the group, nor did there seem to
be any thing extraordinary about him except his
mourning garments in the center of that brilliantly
lighted room. Yet in spite of them his remarkable
stature, his features, and his movements breathed
forth an air of healthy youthfulness in which both
body and mind had equally developed. There might
have been noticed in his frank, pleasant face some
faint traces of Spanish blood showing through a
beautiful brown color, slightly flushed at the cheeks
as a result perhaps of his residence in cold
countries.
6. IBARRA:
“What!”
“the curate of my native town! Padre
Damaso, my father’s intimate friend!”
NARRATOR:
Every look in the room was directed toward the
Franciscan, who made no movement.
IBARRA:
“Pardon me, perhaps I’m mistaken,”
(embarrassed)
FRAY DAMASO:
“You are not mistaken,”
“but your father was never an intimate friend
of mine.”
7. NARRATOR:
Ibarra slowly withdrew his extended
hand, looking greatly surprised, and turned to
encounter the gloomy gaze of the lieutenant
fixed on him.
FRAY DAMASO:
“Young man, are you the son of Don
Rafael Ibarra?”
NARRATOR:
The youth bowed. Fray Damaso partly
rose in his chair and stared fixedly at the
lieutenant.
8. FRAY DAMASO:
“Welcome back to your country! And
may you be happier in it than your father
was!”
“I knew him well and can say that he
was one of the worthiest and most honorable
men in the Philippines.”
IBARRA:
“Sir,”
“the praise you bestow upon my father
removes my doubts about the manner of his
death, of which I, his son, am yet ignorant.”
9. NARRATOR:
The eyes of the old soldier filled with tears
and turning away hastily he withdrew. The young
man thus found himself alone in the center of the
room. His host having disappeared, he saw no
one who might introduce him to the young
ladies, many of whom were watching him with
interest. After a few moments of hesitation he
started toward them in a simple and natural
manner.
IBARRA:
“Allow me,” he said, “to overstep the rules
of strict etiquette. It has been seven years since I
have been in my own country and upon returning
to it I cannot suppress my admiration and refrain
from paying my respects to its most precious
ornaments, the ladies.”
10. NARRATOR:
But as none of them ventured a reply, he found
himself obliged to retire. He then turned toward a
group of men who, upon seeing him
approach, arranged themselves in a semicircle.
IBARRA:
Gentlemen
“it is a custom in Germany, when a stranger
finds himself at a function and there is no one to
introduce him to those present, that he give his
name and so introduce himself. Allow me to adopt
this usage here, not to introduce foreign customs
when our own are so beautiful, but because I find
myself driven to it by necessity. I have already paid
my respects to the skies and to the ladies of my
native land; now I wish to greet its citizens, my
fellow-countrymen. Gentlemen, my name is Juan
Crisostomo Ibarra y Magsalin.”
11. NARRATOR:
The others gave their names, more or less
obscure, and unimportant here.
YOUTH:
“Then I have the honor of addressing the
poet whose works have done so much to keep
up my enthusiasm for my native land. It is said
that you do not write any more, but I could not
learn the reason.”
IBARRA:
“The reason? Because one does not seek
inspiration in order to debase himself and lie.
One writer has been imprisoned for having put a
very obvious truth into verse. They may have
called me a poet but they sha’n’t call me a fool.”
12. YOUTH:
“And may I enquire what that truth was?”
2ND YOUTH:
“He said that the lion’s son is also a lion. He
came very near to being exiled for it,” (replied the
strange youth, moving away from the group.)
NARRATOR:
A man with a smiling face, dressed in the
fashion of the natives of the country, with diamond
studs in his shirt-bosom, came up at that moment
almost running. He went directly to Ibarra and
grasped his hand, saying, “Señor Ibarra, I’ve been
eager to make your acquaintance. Capitan Tiago is
a friend of mine and I knew your respected father. I
am known as Capitan Tinong and live in
Tondo, where you will always be welcome. I hope
that you will honor me with a visit. Come and dine
with us tomorrow.” He smiled and rubbed his hands.
13. IBARRA:
“Thank you,”
“but tomorrow morning I must leave for
San Diego.”
CAPITAN TINONG:
“How unfortunate! Then it will be on
your return.”
NARRATOR:
“Dinner is served!” announced a waiter
from the café La Campana, and the guests
began to file out toward the table, the
women, especially the Filipinas, with great
hesitation.
