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                                  THE
                            FRIAR'S DAUGHTER

                             A Story of the
                          American Occupation
                          of the Philippines.


                       By CHARLES LINCOLN PHIFER

              Author of "The White Sea," "The Giant Hand,"
                    "Diaz the Dictator," Etc., Etc.

              40 Cents Each. 10 for $3.00. 100 for $22.00.


                                 1909:
                       Published by C. L. PHIFER
                             Girard, Kansas







CHARACTERS.



    Judge Benjamin Daft, American Governor.
    Admiral Rainey, Conqueror of the Philippines.
    Camillo Saguanaldo, Insurgent General and President.
    Bishop Lonzello, the Friar.
    Ambrosia Lonzello, the Friar's Daughter.
    Rodriguez Violeta, the Papal Nuncio.
    Mrs. Rizal, widow of a Filipino Patriot.
    Maximo Voliva, Leader of a Schism.


Time--1898-1899. Place--Manila and Vicinity.







JUST A WORD.


This is a story founded on truth. Practically every incident told
about really happened; yet some liberty has been taken with the
arrangements of these incidents into a story. Events are sometimes
grouped outside of their natural order and place of occurrence,
and the time of action is shortened. Conversation is necessarily
invented, and is used to bring out the setting of the story and give
it life. Another thing: Every writer recognizes that it is desirable
to not have too many characters in a story, and to not drag it through
unimportant incidents. Therefore, I have omitted many incidents of
the occupation of the Philippines, and have in places ascribed to one
person, in an effort to keep down the number of characters, acts which
properly belonged to other persons, so that some of the characters
are representative and composite. To illustrate my meaning--that a
love story in the simplest form might run through the tale I have
made Saguanaldo appear as a lover as well as a general, though this
is acknowledged to be fiction. In other places I have one character
doing a work that was really done by a different person; but it
would have been difficult and confusing to use all the actors in the
stirring drama or to refer to all the many incidents. This shortening
of the period of action, and this combining in one person the deeds of
several, is something which Shakespeare did in his historical dramas;
so that this is historical in the same sense that some of his plays
are historical--not as to the truth of every word and the time and
place of every act, but in spirit and in incident. The truth is there,
but the grouping is made to meet the author's need.

There is no personal bias in this work. It is nothing to the author
that in this case the center of the plot hinges about churchmen. It
is no more than if it should center around secular affairs. It is the
old story of personal ambition which has appeared in a thousand forms
and has influenced all conditions of people. It is not a matter of
religion or irreligion, but a picture of what ambition will do for
even the best of aims and men.


                                                                C. L. P.







THE FRIAR'S DAUGHTER.

I.

"AND THE SUN COMES UP LIKE THUNDER."


Up till midnight Manila was at play. In mediæval Luzon they had not
then lost the sportive instinct of the healthy animal or been lost
in the chase of the dollar. The shops were closed, but the places of
amusement were open. The Lunita, outside the city wall, was thronged
with carriages, and at each end of the Plaza de Gotta a band was
playing. Spanish grandees and beautiful donnas were driving or
promenading there. Inside the wall churches and theatres were open,
the churches being first visited and then the play houses. In the
amphitheater, built up of bamboo, a crowd of the poorer people were
gathered, and while the braver battles were not in progress at this
time, cock fighting was attracting the attention of many. Under the
walls of the old city, the city that best represented the ancient
order, the city of this story, in cloisters arched over where stock
was being housed, groups of men were throwing dice or playing cards. It
was like a picture of the middle ages projected into the closing days
of April, 1898.

What an anomaly it was! Walls of the middle ages, surrounded by a
great moat, and within a cosmopolitan group, including Spaniards,
Chinese and natives of the Northern islands; yet adjoining it to
the east lay a modern city; and Cavite, eight miles to the west,
was a fort manned by modern guns. Yellow clay houses of one and two
stories roofed with red tile, some with courts in the center, here
in old Manila, and to the east modern places of business and houses
well plumbed, lighted with electricity. Churches and cathedrals,
conventos and nunneries everywhere here, and beyond the Passig river
modern amusement places and Protestant churches.

In the magnificent harbor that lay north of Manila, small crafts
of many kinds were grouped at the piers, and in the distance the
modern fleet of Spain lay at anchor. It was the one portion of the
old order that yet remained; and the world was pressing upon it,
and change was near.

Ambrosia Lonzello, the Friar's Daughter, stood at the gate in front
of her mother's home, gazing down the street, dreaming the dreams of
oriental maidenhood. She had inherited the symmetry of proportion that
belonged to her mother's tribe in Cebu, and from her father, Bishop
Lonzello, had the Spaniard's dark eyes and charming vivacity. It had
been twenty years since Friar Lonzello, a young priest then located
in Cebu, had met the young native woman who became Ambrosia's mother;
and though it was forbidden priests to marry, Lonzello yet supported
the woman he had then loved and the daughter that had been born to
them. If it was a strange thing to a European, it was rather the
rule than the exception in that oriental, mediaeval country, and as
the daughter of the Bishop, Ambrosia was one of the prominent young
women of the walled city. She stood, gazing down the street and up
at the stars, dreaming her own dreams, a girl without experience in
the ways of the world, when she heard a voice at her side:

"Ambrosia! Buenos dias!" [1]

Ambrosia started. She knew the voice. But she supposed the possessor,
Camillo Saguanaldo, was across the bay in China. A few months before
he had been banished because of leading an insurrection against the
friars, who were practically the rulers of the Philippines, and his
return involved great danger for him. So Ambrosia said:

"I thought you were in China, Camillo. Do you not know it is dangerous
for you to be in Luzon?"

"My duty calls me here, Ambrosia, and here I must be," replied the
youth. "It is not so dangerous now as it has been in the past. At
last our prayers are to be answered and America, the great land that
loves liberty, is to give us a chance to secure our freedom. If we do
our part we shall be free. When I was in China I talked with Admiral
Rainey, of the American fleet that was anchored there, and he told
me that the United States was about to go to war with Spain solely
to secure liberty for the Cubans; and when I told him how it was in
the Philippines, that we had been struggling for liberty for three
hundred years, he said that it might be that Uncle Sam would do for
us what he meant to do for the reconcentrados of Cuba. So I came over
in advance to help when the only chance the Filipinos ever had shall
come to them."

"I wish it might be, Camillo," replied the girl. "But if my father
hears you have returned, he will kill you, and nothing can appease
his wrath now."

It might be mentioned that when the insurrection led by Saguanaldo
had failed and his banishment was decreed, Bishop Lonzello, at the
intercession of Ambrosia, had procured for him an allowance of $20,000
on which to live in China. Ambrosia had intended it as a kindness
to him, and the bishop regarded it as a bribe, but now that he had
returned there was no doubt that Lonzello would prosecute him and if
possible secure his death.

"I shall be safe." replied the youth. "I used that $20,000 in buying
guns and ammunition, and have already a stronger force than I ever
had. My troops are near at hand even now, and Manila is not so peaceful
as she seems."

"You do not know. The heavy guns of the battleships have been mounted
at Corregidor and Caney, and the 160,000 Spanish troops in the city
laugh at the idea of America ever being able to take it."

"Yet America will take it. The American fleet will be here and
will win, and then they will give us freedom. Within a few months
the Filipinos will be free, and then Ambrosia Lonzello will become
Ambrosia de Saguanaldo."

The young girl flushed with combined embarrassment and pleasure.

"It can not be," she said. "I am not worthy of you. I shall seek with
you the freedom of the Filipinos and then I shall die and leave you
free to marry a woman who has a name."

"Fie, Ambrosia. I will give you my name, and there will be none in
Luzon more honored than that. Many have tried for the good that now
we shall attain. It must come. The very fact that we have waited for
it so long proves that it must be near. Luz de mi vida [2], it is so."

"I wish," the girl began wistfully, then stopped abruptly. "Father
is so bitter against you. I always wish you with me, yet you never
come but I am anxious you should go, lest staying mean your death."

"Fear not, Ambrosia," said the youth. "They call me the Fox of Luzon,
and I find my way where they do not suspect. I was with your father
yesterday and he never knew."

"Oh, take no risk," plead the girl, throwing herself in his arms. "Te
amo con todo el corazon. [3] You must, you must be careful. Oh, it
is sad, so sad. If they would only let us have a chance the people
might be so happy. Luzon is a beautiful island. It seems to me like
Paradise, the garden of the Lord; and yet for us it is purgatory."

"Some day we shall be released from purgatory, chuleta [4]. The
prayers of our forefathers will prevail."

"Camillo, come inside, or they will see you."

She drew the young man into the shadows, and into the house. There
the lovers talked undisturbed. They talked of things that to them
were the most momentous--their own loves and their individual plans,
the hope and future of the island which had been their home all their
lives. Little did they know that time was working for them and through
them more momentous changes that should affect continents and end
completely the feudal in the capitalistic.



On the following morning Manila was awakened by the roar of
artillery. It was still dark save for the star light, yet quickly the
streets were in turmoil. Some grasped the things they most valued and
rushed to most ridiculous places for safety. One man took to the woods
with a fighting cock under his arm. A few of the bravest mounted to
the roofs of the dwellings and the towers of the churches in order to
view the fight that had been anticipated, but which had come sooner
than expected. From these vantage points they looked on a scene such
as falls to the lot of man to observe only once in a thousand lives.

In answer to the challenge of Cavite the American fleet was forming in
battle array. In single file, as if in gala parade, they came, like
actors entering from the wings of a great stage or circus performers
from the dressing room, crawling over the white bay like living
things. The dawn had come, suddenly as in the tropics, come with the
roar of artillery. For once it had literally realized Kipling's line--


    "Dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the bay."


At last the fleet, the tool of the new order of capitalism, was
ready. The command had gone forth from Admiral Rainey: "You may
fire when you are ready." The American flag ship shot a line of
fire, and from the smoke that arose a great roar resounded. Boom,
boom! Fire and shell and smoke and action swept from consciousness
the peace of nature and thought of the world of life. Now and then
the white veil of smoke would lift, and the watcher on the towers
could see in those intervals splintered masts and laboring vessels,
specks that were men struggling in the waves, and wrecks that lined
the shore. It did not seem possible that all those specks were men,
with hopes and plans and families, and hearts and bodies that suffered;
the watchers on the towers could not know that decks of vessels were
slippery from blood, and that nerves were racked with pain and hearts
were sore from loss. The American vessels, crawling like water mites
over the white mirror spread below them, circled together about first
one and then another of the Spanish ships; and ever as they moved
flashes like fiery legs stretched from their sides. This red venom of
death touched the Spanish ships that appeared to wither and consume
before it. Here a Spanish ship ran to shore, as though a living,
wounded thing, seeking a place to die, and, trembling, sank beneath
the waves. There a vessel lay under the pitiless pelting of fire,
till there was a heavy explosion, and the ship was torn to shreds
that sprinkled the water, while dots that represented men struggled
in the waves. Yonder a vessel was on fire, and as it bore to shore
specks that were men dived into the water to save themselves, and
the red flames licked life from the redder decks.

With what precision the stranger ships came on, circling, and
pouring death into the helpless vessels whose wooden hulks graft
had left exposed to shell! How aimlessly and helplessly the Spanish
vessels floundered, unable to fight, and finding no escape! It was
war, glorious and terrible. In Spain a thousand widows and orphans
would weep and miss forever that which had been taken from them in a
quarrel in which the fighters had no interest. In America a million
would scream for joy and tingle with the glory of slaughter and the
thought of being splendid fighters. Within half an hour nearly four
hundred able-bodied men perished and twenty million dollars' worth of
property that should have been used to make life happier and better
was destroyed. It was a great drama, in a splendid amphitheatre,
with the lifting curtains of night to show it forth, enacted for the
few in the towers. Ambrosia had seen and understood and was silenced
by the grandeur and horror of it. She felt for the dying, and could
hardly restrain herself from crying out in agony when the American
fleet ceased firing and calmly moved away to prepare, within sight of
the wrecks and the sacrifice, breakfast for the living, after their
hour's toil.

"Oh, God, but this is horrible," she muttered, faint with her
feelings. As she spoke, once again she was startled with a voice at
her side. She turned to behold an old man with a long beard, but she
knew the voice, the voice of Saguanaldo, and it said:

"Ambrosia, chuleta, it is the dawn, not only of a new day, but also
of a new era."







II.

LIBERTY'S CENTURY-OLD LOVER.


"A beautiful city, Admiral Rainey--from a distance. Strongly
fortified--for the fifteenth century. But you can sweep away the
fortifications as easily as you sank the Spanish war vessels. What
is a walled city with a moat to guns that will carry for miles?"

"I do not doubt, General Saguanaldo," returned the American admiral as
he sat on deck of his flag ship in the harbor of Manila, faultlessly
garbed as though for a party, talking to the Filipino insurgent
after the battle that had spread his name around the globe, "I do
not doubt my ability to reduce the Spanish works, but I was looking
to the future. Should I destroy so much private property as would be
involved in bombarding Manila I would make enemies of the owners,
who would give us trouble in days to come. I dare not take such a
serious step until I am instructed from America."

"But consider, admiral," plead the insurgent, "Manila sits there,
fair to see, but she has drawn the very life from the people of the
interior for centuries. The private property of which you speak was
gotten from labor by the sorrow of others."

"You are doubtless right, general, and I would not blame you if
you should seek revenge from them, for your people have suffered
greatly. But with me it is a different proposition. I am not acting
for myself alone."

"Nor am I. It may be you do not know the sorrows of Luzon, Señor
Admiral!"

"It may be I do not, General Saguanaldo."

"May I tell you of them, Admiral Rainey?"

"I shall be pleased to know more of this land that I have just come to
command until my country tells me what to do, or ends the unhappy war."

"When Spaniards from Mexico first landed in Maynila, centuries ago,"
continued General Saguanaldo, "the simple-minded natives bowed to the
white people as to gods; and they have been on their knees rendering
tribute of Luzon's products ever since. It did not take the natives
long to learn the nature of the Spaniards, who were inflamed by the
lust of gold, both by their experience with the Incas and Aztecs in
America and by the hard terms of the Spanish rulers, for we have had
to pay tribute to Rome, to Spain and to Mexico--all."

"I am told the people of the interior are primitive--half naked
Igorrotes, or Negritos, wearing only breech clouts."

"Those live chiefly in the Southern islands. The body of the people
of the Northern islands are of the Malayan stock, loving liberty,
but kept poor by tributes exacted. They were a people of simple ways
and homely virtues. Because of being of Malayan descent they wore
called Moros by the Spaniards. The two tribes of Moros, the Tagals of
Northern Luzon, and the Viscayans of Southern Luzon and North Mindoro,
yielded to Legaspi, to whom the king of Spain gave all the land he
might conquer. He was not a hard master, leaving the olden, native
chiefs in charge; but when, after this, the friars came from Spain,
they began the work of oppression. When the great earthquake destroyed
Maynila in 1645, and over 600 perished in the catastrophe, the natives
were forced to work without pay on the arsenal at Ca Vite, and when,
because of harsh treatment, they rebelled, burning towns and churches,
the friars dispatched soldiers for the head of Sumoroy, the rebel. His
followers sent in the head of a pig instead. The enraged friars and
soldiers tortured to death the mother of Sumoroy, and afterward,
when the rebel was betrayed to them, struck off his head and mounted
it on a pole for the people to look upon."

"Brutal, doubtless. But such things were common in those days,"
returned the admiral.

"God pity us, they are too common in Manila in these days. The
reputation of the friars was such in those days that when some of them
went to Japan it was reported in that land that they were advance
guards of the Spanish army, getting a foothold, and that after them
would come the army to protect them. The Mikado ordered the friars
out, but they defied him. Then the Japanese emperor adopted heroic
measures. He gathered together 150 lepers and sent them to Maynila,
saying that Japan did not allow Roman friars in that country, but,
since these friars were fond of this kind of people, he sent them a
ship load."

"That, too, seems to have been inhuman. How were the lepers received?"

"Oh, the friars built the hospital of St. Lazarus for their
reception. You can see it beyond those palms."

"That was rather a Christian act."

"The friars have done some good. But they insist on foreign friars
ruling instead of native priests, and to maintain their supremacy
keep the people uneducated. Then they claim ownership of large tracts
of the best land, and exact high rentals. The people have rebelled
against their exactions over and over again. Long ago the king of
Tagals killed the alcade of Tayabas province, and made the people
believe that the earth would swallow the Spaniards when they were
attacked, but his rebellion was put down with great slaughter."

"No wonder, General. This confirms my information that the inhabitants
are not free from superstition."

"Eso fue en los dias antiguos [5], Admiral. The people were crude
then. Perhaps they were like your American Indians. But they were
oppressed, and they began even then the rebellion against Spain and the
friars which they have maintained for over 300 years, from the days
when Soliman, the native king, set fire to Maynila and fought them
from the forests, to the last rebellion of Rizal and the religious
deflection of Aglipay."

"It seems to me a man of ability, like you, General, ought to be able
to win."

"We will win. But we have hoped so that the great North American
nation that pitied Cuba and that is fighting for her independence will
so pity us and give us independence. I assure you, Admiral, we have
endured longer and more than Cuba has done. The oppression had been
admitted by our masters. The Augustinians and Jesuits accused each
other of cruelty and the Jesuits were banished. It was not till 1859
that they were permitted to return. I told you about the destruction
of Manila by earthquake in the olden days. That was not the last or
worst seismic disturbance."

"I had heard as much."

"In 1863 the city was again destroyed by earthquake, which killed
thousands of people and left much destitution. The grafting that
followed was scandalous and caused much dissatisfaction. It was in
1872 that the great insurrection occurred. But for an error in signals
which started the trouble before the people were ready to support it,
it would have succeeded. As it was, many were executed and shot. At
another time the people were promised amnesty if they would lay down
their arms, but when they did so thousands were massacred. Then came
a period of organizing secret societies to work against the friars,
who were also rulers."

"But these are only incidents that come in the history of every land."

"Por Dios, Donde se hallaria otro pais que has sufrido tanto. [6]
Think of it! Up to 1811 the Philippine islands dared not trade with
any country but Mexico, not excepting their neighbor, China. Then
the picturesque, half-moon-shaped galleons of Mexico did all the
carrying of the Philippines and charged prices such as would enrich
them in spite of the pirates they frequently met. For this trade
Mexican promoters and the Spanish crown received their tribute, and
the Spanish friars, too, had their share. The people were abjectly
poor. Even the soldiers were often unpaid, and begged their support
from the people whom they subjected. The friars charged exorbitant
rentals on the lands they claimed. They encouraged the people to
build cathedrals, monasteries and churches, but the cathedrals,
monasteries and churches did not belong to the people after they had
built them. They charged the people rental on graves in consecrated
ground, and when the rent was not paid they evicted the dead. They made
the price of marriage so high that many of the people lived together
out of wedlock. The friars selected the women of the people they
fancied and openly consorted with them, and the children of friars
are common throughout the islands. The people are poor, living for
the most part in grass houses, while the friars are rich and live in
luxury; and this has been going on for centuries."

"Bad, very bad; the morals of the tropics and the Orient."

"This is not all. The friars exercised the power of secret
investigation, and one never knew when he was safe. A friar might
report a man as a conspirator against Spain, and, while meeting
him and showing friendship for him in public, secretly secure his
banishment. There have been cases which I could name, where friars,
coveting the wife or sister of a man, have procured his banishment
or even secured for him an appointment at a distance, so that they
might have the way open to accomplish their purposes. There was a fear
which beset every man, even those who through fear were nearest to
the friars, that if his eyes should light upon his wife or daughter
in an envious way, if he did not give them up he was lost."

"Surely, General, this is exaggerated."

"The half has not been told. In Lenten time, which was the period
when the country folk came to confess, the parish friar would give
strict orders to the scribes of the church that in the distribution
or giving out of the certificates to the penitents among himself
and his coadjutors they should give him the young unmarried women
and servant penitents, whom he obscenely solicited through words and
manipulations in the confessional."

"Why, this is horrible."

"It is, indeed. Some reverend friars arrogated to themselves rights
which in feudal times were called rights of pernada, or the right
to enter the bed of a new bride before the husband. The parish friar
converted himself up to a certain point into an absolute lord, master
of lives and property, and, if he so willed, made and unmade everything
according to his fancy. Master of the will of the people more through
fear than out of love for him, he nominated town authorities that
pleased him, which nomination elevated almost always the greatest
flatterer of all his parishioners, and it is plain that all weighty
determinations dictated by the municipal authorities were not proper
initiatives, but those of his amours."

"It does not seem possible. Why, that is worse than Cuba."

"Imagine paying rental on a grave for the bones of a dear one, until
your money was exhausted, and then seeing the remains dumped into
a pile of bones along with scores of other victims. Imagine being
required to produce a certain crop each year to be turned over to the
friars, and if you failed, becoming indebted to them so that there was
no hope of your ever paying out. Imagine being compelled to sell your
rice to the friar at the price he might offer, and being forbidden
to take it to an open market where the price was higher. Would you
rebel against such conditions?"

"The American would not tolerate it even for a moment."

"That is not all. They were cruel, not only in the treatment of their
servants by beating them, but they also took great delight in being eye
witnesses to tortures and beatings of men and in prisons and jails by
the civil authorities. They were always, when witnessing these acts,
accompanied by some of the higher Spanish civil authorities, and
these acts were usually carried out at the instigation of the friars."

"I did not know of all these things."

"Would to God that you knew, Admiral. Listen! In 1781 the growing of
tobacco on Luzon was made a government monopoly. If farmers refused to
plant a certain amount of tobacco the land was taken from them. Law
required the natives to 'tend the tobacco that when raised belonged
to the government; that is, to the friars. If the crop was less than
the amount estimated for each farmer, he was heavily fined and became
responsible for that much more the year following. If the crop was
above the estimate, the government seized it all and destroyed what
it could not sell to advantage."

"No doubt you have suffered much."

"Cuba does not know suffering, Admiral. Yet you liberty-loving
Americans are warring to give Cuba her freedom. Give us freedom,
too. Promise me, Admiral."

The insurgent general, with the impetuosity of the tropics, fell on
his knees before Admiral Rainey and seized his hands.

"America will see you have your rights. Arise," the admiral said,
flipping a speck from his coat as he spoke. The insurgent leader
reverently kissed the hand of the admiral, and, crying, "You will
be hailed as the great emancipator," signaled to his attendants, and
prepared to leave the flagship. Under Rainey's guns the company made
its way to shore, not far from the old moat outside the city's walls,
now overgrown with grasses and vegetation, which served for draining
the outlying country.







III.

WON BY A WOMAN.


As General Saguanaldo and his men drew to shore, a small English
woman approached him from a clump of bamboos that grew near the shore,
hiding the new city from sight.

"What do you here, Madam Rizal?" asked Saguanaldo, bowing low. "You
always bear important news."

"I have a circular which Bishop Lonzello has been distributing
throughout Luzon. Did you win a promise from the admiral to aid us
in our struggle?"

"He told me to go ahead and do the best I could against the Spaniards."

"But no promise definitely to help us gain our independence?"

"N-o, I can't say that he did."

"Grant me permission, then, to lay this document before him. I am of
his own race, and believe I can induce him to aid our cause."

"Let me see the paper."

Mrs. Rizal handed the paper to the insurgent general, and as he read
stood gazing abstractedly over the water. She was yet a young woman,
but her face revealed both sorrow and determination. She was the
widow of the late insurgent, Dr. Rizal, who was the best educated and
probably the most manly of all who had opposed the exactions of the
friars in the interest of the native population. He had accomplished
but very little, and only a short time before had been shot by the
Spanish soldiery, at the instigation of Lonzello and others. The
widow, after that event, seemed to have no object in life but to
carry on the work her husband had begun, and became an invaluable aid
to Saguanaldo. She grasped situations he could not understand. She
advised with the good sense of a veteran. She went from place to place,
singing, talking and encouraging. She was always active in the cause
of Philippine independence, and no task, no privation, was so great
as to deter her. But perhaps the service that most appealed to the
Filipino leader came through her friendship with Ambrosia Lonzello. She
managed that the aling [7] might meet her lover, and at the same time
protected them from the friar, her father, so that he never suspected
that his enemy was the lover of his daughter.

"Go, and God bless you," said the insurgent, after he had finished
reading the friar's address.

Again the boat pushed from shore, this time bearing, not Saguanaldo,
but Mrs. Rizal. When they arrived at the American flagship the
woman introduced herself to Admiral Rainey and gave a history of
her husband's struggle and his fate. There was more feeling in her
recital than there had been in Saguanaldo's and the admiral was
clearly touched by it. When she had finished the story she said:

"And, Admiral, our enemies are your enemies. The men who are fighting
us are warring you also. I do not ask you to take my word for it,
but I bring you a circular which is being distributed over the island
by Friar Lonzello, which I ask permission to read to you."

The admiral gave his consent and the woman read, translating from
the Spanish as she proceeded:


    There appeared at dawn, on a sad day for this country, my beloved
    sons, mastering our beautiful bay, the North American squadron,
    that in a few months, and in spite of the heroism of our sailors,
    destroyed our ships and raised upon one of our plazas, blessed
    soil of the nation, the flag of the enemy. Do not ignore who
    it is and what he attempts, who with such haughty pride, would
    trample right under foot and impose himself upon us. It is the
    alien, who wishes to subject us to his hard yoke. It is the
    heretic, who desires to snatch from us our religion. It is the
    insatiable commercialist, who, with the ruins of Spain and her
    possessions, wants to swell his fortune. Unhappy Spain, if the
    invader achieves his purpose! Poor Filipinos, the day that the
    North American establishes here a permanent government! Very
    soon you will see an impassible barrier between you and your
    proud masters. You would then have neither office, employment
    nor participation in the government or administration of the
    cities. You would soon form a separate class, reviled as pariahs,
    exploited like miserable serfs, reduced to the condition of day
    laborers, and even to that of a beast or a machine fed with a
    pinch of rice or corn, that your master would throw in your face
    as a daily ration, in order to not see himself deprived of the
    product of your labor and sweat; he regaled with the treasures
    and fruits of the country that is yours and not his. You would
    soon see your temples in ruins. The cross would disappear from
    your cemeteries, the crucifix from your schools.... Fortunately
    the Filipinos recognize all the perils that threaten. Perhaps us
    a unit for your defense, and as a single soul raise to heaven
    your ardent supplications. To arms, to arms, and to prayer! To
    arms, for Spanish people, when its patriotism is wounded and its
    religion attacked, is capable of great achievement. To prayer,
    because the victory is with God and against infidels.

                                Jose Lonzello, Bishop of Manila. [8]


Shortly afterward two boats put forth from the battleship for the
shore bearing, not only Mrs. Rizal, but also a quantity of guns and
ammunition, as well as other equipments for campaigning. They were
met at the shore by Saguanaldo and his men with demonstrations of
joy and Mrs. Rizal delivered her message from the admiral with the
feeling of triumph:

"Tell General Saguanaldo," the message went, "to take and hold the
city of Manila. The American battleships will see that the Spanish
forts do not interfere. But destroy as little property as possible,
and maintain order and discipline."







IV.

"BY THE DAWN'S EARLY LIGHT."


It was a dark night. The sports that had characterized the early
evening, and the throng of gay promenaders that had ranged the
streets devoted at night to the business of pleasure instead of the
pleasure of business, had given place to rest and quiet. The city
was asleep--soundly asleep. It was the sleep of exhaustion that
comes after play that is the hardest of work. Gambling houses were
closed. The cock-pit, where a few hours before so many had gathered
to participate in the great Spanish amusement, was deserted. Even at
the arsenal of Cavite, eight miles away, all was silent except for
the tread of sleepy sentinels.

New Manila, a modern city of more than a hundred thousand mixed
people, lay on the east of Passig river, a place of merchandising
and cosmopolitan in its sport and games of chance. But, though it was
the more important of the two towns that were yet one, it was within
the walled city that the public buildings and the great cathedral
were located. Several stone bridges spanned the Passig river, each
opening to a gate in the wall, which was often 150 feet through, but
hollow, with rooms inside for the storage of forage, the stabling
of animals, etc. In olden days the wall was a formidable defense,
and was supplemented, where the river did not flow, with a moat. But
now the moat was neglected and covered with a green scum, and snakes
infested it while disease was breeded from it. And the wall was no
longer a defense. The soldiers were careless now. In truth, they were
poorly paid and none too loyal to Spain. It may have been for this
reason that at one of the gates, this night, there was an opening that
would admit a man, yet that was not observable from a distance. For
some strange reason no one seemed to be watching. Dark figures filed
into this gate, and crept under the walls to the true gate, entering
the city. A squad here, a few there, but, all told, hundreds. Again,
for some mysterious reason, no soldiers were on guard. The city was
safe anyhow; it had not been invaded for many years, and the proud
Castilian felt that no one would dare to challenge him.

Up unfrequented streets a few figures stole silently, unobserved. It
was so dark that, even had they been seen, few would have known that
they were armed. It was so silent that the city seemed a place of the
dead instead of the living, and the superstitious natives who were
thus stealing into the city were more apprehensive of apparitions than
of the Spanish soldiery. As the men entered from many streets they
converged to one place. They then moved in small squads silently on
the sentries, capturing and silencing them. They moved to the public
buildings and took possession of them. They ran down the Spanish flag
and in its place hoisted the insurgent flag. It was the crowning work
of Saguanaldo.

Before this time, under his leadership, the insurgents had taken
possession of Malalos, and even now they were active all over the
island of Luzon. An election was under consideration, and Saguanaldo's
candidacy for president was uncontested. It was a peculiar situation,
due to a lull before the storm. The American fleet, after having
sunk the Spanish vessels, hesitated about taking possession of the
islands lest complications might ensue; yet it was such a menace to
the Spanish forts that they realized their helplessness. With both
the Spaniards and Americans doing nothing, the insurgents were able
to accomplish more than they had ever done before. Their success
filled Saguanaldo with delight. He arranged his troops to the best
advantage and was soon in possession of the city.

Then suddenly the stars winked out and over the wooded uplands to
the east the sun arose.

"It is the sun of Filipino independence," said Saguanaldo, pointing
to the orb of day. "How quickly has the darkness passed and how bright
the new era of the Philippines is." And then the soldiers cheered.

When morning come and the people understood the changed situation
Mrs. Rizal called on Ambrosia Lonzello that she might felicitate with
her. "Ambrosia, the city has been taken and is in the hands of the
insurgents," began the older woman. "It means Filipino freedom. Even
if we are not able to maintain our own independence, then America will
be our protector. And the night is past. Oh, thank God, thank God!"

"Dr. Rizal has won, in his wife," replied the younger woman. "I
think he must rejoice, together with all the thousands who through
the centuries have given their lives for Filipino freedom. It must
be a happy day in heaven as well as earth. Even the sun seems glad
and all nature rejoices this morning."

"For the first time since my husband suffered so cruelly and unjustly
I am happy," responded the older woman. "You will wed Saguanaldo and
you will be happy with him. You will not have to see him shot in
disgrace, Ambrosia, but instead will be hailed as the wife of the
liberator. But think not that I envy you or grumble at my fate. It
is enough for me that I have realized the dream my husband dreamed
and helped to do his work."







V.

"CURSED WITH A CURSE."


"Where is Ambrosia?"

Bishop Lonzello addressed the woman who had borne a daughter to him
in the home he had provided for her. He was deeply agitated with
passion. The insurgents, who had elected a president and assembly,
had already nationalized the friars' lands, and the heresy of Aglipay
was waxing formidable, having possession of most of the churches
throughout Luzon. Lonzello had heard that his daughter Ambrosia
had been receiving attentions from Saguanaldo, the leader of the
insurgents, and the thought of it made him furious. It showed in
his face as he stood before the woman he had once loved and whom now
he supported.

She was deeply religious. To her, submission to the embrace of Friar
Lonzello had been obedience to God's messenger, and to this day she
regarded him as a sinless representative of Deity rather than as
husband. It had been many weeks since Bishop Lonzello had deigned
to visit her. There were other and younger women whom he met now;
still, he made no attempt to conceal the parentage of the girl, and
the general knowledge that he was her father had no bearing on his
standing either as a citizen or a priest.

"I do not know, Holy Father," replied the Filipino woman meekly.

"You ought to know. What do you suppose will become of your daughter
if you let her wander about apart from your knowledge?"

"Nothing bad, I hope. I have great faith in Ambrosia."

"Nothing bad! Diablo! [9] Something has happened to her. Ambrosia
has disgraced us and blasphemed the God of her fathers."

"Holy Father, what do you mean?"

"I mean that the girl has gone astray, and you have not prevented her."

It apparently did not occur to him that both father and mother had
aforetime gone astray, and that it hardly behooved them to talk
of lapses of their daughter while making religious professions
themselves. But the mother only turned pale and gasped.

"I do not see how it can be. Tell me what you mean, Holy Father."

"Ambrosia has been meeting Saguanaldo, the enemy of his country and
of religion--meeting him in secret and at night. I will not say that
she has fallen from virtue, for that is not so bad as lapsing from her
God and her duty. Fornication might be forgiven, but the sin against
the Holy Ghost hath never forgiveness. Woman, these meetings must
cease. You hear me; they must cease."

The woman trembled and mumbled. Her eyes fell as she replied:

"I will do my best, Holy Father."

"Do your best! Damnation! Am I to be told that you will do your best? I
tell you your daughter is the enemy of God, and you will only do your
best to stop her. Do your best, Diablo! Forbid her leaving the house;
keep her in prison; put her in a convent. This thing must stop. Woman,
do you hear me?"

The mother faltered, and crossed herself. Apparently she was willing,
but had not the strength of character to enforce her will.

"You speak to her, Holy Father," she spoke hardly above a whisper. But
the irate priest turned away with an imperious gesture. As he turned
Ambrosia herself entered from a side door and now confronted him.

"Sin-verguenza! [10]" he hissed.

The girl straightened in dignity. "I do not permit even my father to
say that to me," she said.

"And I do not permit a daughter of mine to consort with a heretic
and rebel."

The priest faced her with a sneer, and anger that shook his frame,
while his fingers clasped and unclasped themselves. He looked ready
to clutch her by the throat.

"I owe you nothing as a father," the young girl replied quietly
but bravely, "since you did not give me even a name when you gave me
life. I owe you nothing as a mediator between God and man, because your
life and words have not convinced me that you have the ear of God. But
I am as much above your accusations as I am above your habits."

The bishop lifted his hand and struck at her. She was young and lithe,
and avoided the blow. He picked up a stone and threw at her, yet again
she slipped away. Then he remembered himself, and, raising his hand,
began the formal curse of the church. The girl listened with form
erect and with a smile of defiance on her lips; but the mother fell
on her knees and as the anathemas poured in anger from the lips of
the father upon the child, she who believed they would come to pass,
fell on the ground, and, writhing in agony before him, begged him to
desist. But it was all in vain.

"The eye that mocketh at her father, and despiseth to obey her mother,
the ravens of the valley shall pluck it out, and the young vultures
shall eat it," the priest hissed; the mother groaned.

The priest straightened, and, pointing his finger at his daughter,
continued:

"Cursed shall thou be in the city and cursed shall thou be in the
field. Cursed shall be thy basket and thy store. Cursed shall be the
fruit of thy body and the fruit of thy land, the increase of thy kine,
and the flocks of thy sheep. Cursed shall thou be when thou comest
in and cursed shall thou be when thou goest out. The Lord shall send
upon thee cursing, vexation and rebuke in all that thou settest thy
hand for to do, until thou be destroyed and until thou perish quickly,
because of the wickedness of thy doing whereby thou hast forsaken me."

The mother lay with her face on the ground in a swoon as he
concluded. The priest walked away, and the eyes of the girl, his
daughter, followed him with fearless look.

"You have cursed me with life," she said. "You have cursed me before
this, so that I can not even love as others do. That is the end of
your power."







VI.

FILIPINO INDEPENDENCE.


"Foolish, foolish, foolish!" Mrs. Rizal was expressing her opinion
of General Saguanaldo's action to the insurgent general himself.

"Caspita! Why is it foolish?" asked the general.

"Because you may offend America, without the friendship of which you
can not win. It will be natural for the United States, after having
captured the Philippines in the prosecution of a foreign war, to want
to hold on to them. And if America chooses to hold the islands and make
them part of the United States in declaring the independence of the
Philippines you will only turn America from your side to oppose you."

"Do you suppose I want to fight side by side with America for freedom
from Spain and then be subjected to that country? Did you not tell
me that Admiral Rainey promised us independence?"

"No. He could not promise us independence, because he is not the
sovereign of America. The most he did, the most he could do, was to
promise to aid us in our fight with the Spaniards, and he could do
that only because his country, too, is at war with Spain."

"Then what advantage will it be to us to win, seeing that, though we
may win from Spain, we will lose to America? Por Dios, Señora! what
do you expect of us?"

"You may not win independence, but you may win freedom and justice. You
can not win independence, anyhow. It is doubtful if foreign countries
would recognize the Filipino republic, even if America should depart
and leave us to work out our own salvation. It is also doubtful if we
could win without America's help. Our hope is in securing the aid of
the republic that is giving Cuba her liberty, and repay the freedom
that is possible of attainment at this time and at no other."

"Independence is all that will suit me. I have not such a low
conception of good for the Filipinos as you seem to have."

The Filipino impatiently and angrily entered his headquarters.

Mrs. Rizal went away, sad at heart.

After Saguanaldo had secured the city of Manila he had occupied the
public buildings, and a provisional government had been organized. The
Filipino assembly at Malalos had adopted a constitution for the
Filipino republic fondly hoping that the Americans would ratify
it. Admiral Rainey had offered no objection; but it can not be
said that he had advised the move. Indeed, he was merely awaiting
instruction from America; and yet the presence of his fleet was
the wholesome reminder that gave the provisional government power
to maintain itself. Saguanaldo had been elected president and duly
installed in office. The provisional government, among its first
acts, had declared the friar lands confiscated and nationalized;
and, while nothing had been done to enforce the new law, yet it was
a fact that native priests, representing the schismatic Filipino
Catholic church, had secured possession of the larger number of the
churches and religious buildings throughout Luzon. This was not to
be wondered at, because there were nearly three million who were in
rebellion against the foreign priests, and less than half that number
who were yet loyal to them. It was in Manila alone that the friars
were in undisputed control.

Perhaps power may have turned the head of Saguanaldo. Mrs. Rizal
had told him that desire for honors had tempted him beyond the
pale of discretion. It might have been better had he organized a
provisional government and made it subject to the United States,
since, then, it might have been recognized and maintained by the new
invading power. But Saguanaldo denied personal ambition, and with some
truth. He had planned to make the day of the declaration of national
independence, which he had proclaimed, as the occasion of his marriage
with Ambrosia Lonzello, and had craved, as a young bridegroom, to
show her the honor, on that occasion, of having her hailed as the
president's wife, so that it was for her sake more than his own he
sought the honor. So often this is true. Men seek wealth and place,
not so much for themselves as that they may please and impress a woman.

But things did not seem to be going right. Not only was Mrs. Rizal
offended at his action, but when he, with a lover's ardor and
enthusiasm, had laid the matter before Ambrosia Lonzello, she had
responded with tears.

"You do not love me," he began.

"Better than life, Camillo," responded the girl. "But my heart tells me
that all is not well. You may declare independence, but you will not
have it until you first fight for it. I understand you are eager to
give me honors, and I appreciate the motive, but I can not marry you
and become a burden to you until the bitter battle and hard struggle
are past."

"That proves you do not love me," iterated the youth, sulkily.

"I shall prove to you I do love you by waiting for you until your
work is done, and then I shall marry you just as freely and just as
proudly, though you are defeated and without honor, as if you are
successful and undisputedly president of the Filipino republic. It
is the desire to do great and right things, the effort to do them,
that makes the soul great, whether the deeds be really done or not."

"But what pleasure will there be for me in the ceremonies of
inauguration if you be not by my side?"

"If it was merely to give you pleasure, Camillo, if it was merely
to gratify my pride or my selfish desire, I would become your bride
on the day set for the celebration of Filipino independence. But
I must decline to marry you now for your sake and for the sake of
Filipino independence. You shall need to be free from ties of home
and responsibility to me. Unless you are free I do not think you
can win. Therefore, I refuse to hang around your neck in the battle,
lest in doing so I cause you to be defeated."

The insurgent general plead, but in vain. Then he left, hurt and
blaming her.

The day for inauguration and celebration approached, and where he
had expected the triumph of his life he faced defeat; where he had
expected exultation and bliss he was filled with disappointment and
bitterness. Still, preparations for the ceremonial proceeded. The day
dawned at last. General Saguanaldo was present as the central figure,
and was received with cheers as the savior of his country. But neither
Mrs. Rizal or Ambrosia Lonzello were present. The people were merry
with feasting and noise, and the enemies did not show themselves. The
ceremonies of inauguration of the first Filipino president proceeded
without interruption, and Saguanaldo made an inaugural address that
was favorably received. Yet to him it was a disappointment, because
the One was not there amid the thousands. It is always the One we care
for. The applause we crave is as nothing except the One applaud. The
attainment we secure is mediocrity unless the One see us advanced and
glories in our deed. And when, instead of the applause of the One, the
approval and sympathy of the One, the One turns away with disapproval,
then we feel the deed were better not done, and the applause is a
mockery. So the day was not a triumph to Saguanaldo. Even when the
shades of evening fell, and the people brought forth the fireworks,
when Manila was noisy with explosives and when she was gay with
rejoicing and sportive people, Saguanaldo's heart was like lead,
and he was bitter against the two who were the most loyal to him of
all others.

Yet there seemed to be no reason for the heaviness of his
heart. Perfect weather, a program without a hitch, expressions of good
will only, without a word or act of disapproval from the enemies of the
republic, it seemed that Saguanaldo ought to have been happy. He was
making history as his friends told him. He would hereafter be hailed
as the liberator of the Filipinos. The day would be celebrated for
years as the day of rejoicing, the greatest in Filipino history. Why
could he not shake off the dread apprehension that lay like lead
on his heart? Is there such a thing as premonition, which tells one
things to come, when he is too hard of hearing to receive the message?

But Saguanaldo got through the day. As night came he was wearied,
exhausted from sorrow. But with the weariness peace came to him. It
is the ease that comes when nature would heal a wound. Saguanaldo
thought it meant success for him. He would triumph anyhow, and
then they would believe in him. It was the fate of the great to be
misunderstood and derided by their friends, and he must greatly bear
if he would triumph greatly.

At last the last fireworks had been exploded, the last hurrahs
expressed, and in the deep silence and serenity of the night Saguanaldo
lay to rest, feeling that, after all, it was not a failure; and,
being tired, he slept.







VII.

SUBJECTED BY WORDS.


It was late when Saguanaldo awakened the following morning. He had no
more than opened the casement blinds and stepped out on the veranda
than he saw that the city was unusually stirred. He went into the
streets to make inquiry.

"The American army has arrived and is disembarking," was the word
he received.

He walked into the heart of the city, and saw regiments of soldiers
wearing the new khaki uniform, marching through the streets. His
heart sank within him at the sight, and the warning Mrs. Rizal had
given him recurred to his mind. Against these soldiers he knew he
could do nothing, and if he should seek to maintain the Filipino
independence that had been proclaimed the day previous, with hostile
Spaniards on the one side and hostile Americans on the other, he saw
at once that the case was hopeless. Yet, to give up his ambition, to
forego independence for the Filipinos, to abandon the hope of making
Ambrosia Lonzello his wife and the first lady of Luzon, to yield
his new title and new honors without at least a show of resistance,
was more than he felt like doing. He was perturbed, his mind flying
from one resolve to another and his heart filled with one emotion
after another. "And while he mused the fire burned."

"Camillo, the people are depending on their president to do something
for them in this crisis. Do you feel you can gather your troops
together and successfully resist the Americans?"

It was Mrs. Rizal speaking. She was standing by his side. There
was no trace of exultation in her voice, but she spoke in deeply
sympathetic tones.

"What would you advise?" asked the insurgent general, meekly.

"Go as the accredited leader of the Filipino people and welcome at
the landing the general who comes from America. It will put America
on your side, and that means against the Spaniards."

Saguanaldo considered. "I will do it," he said.

Indecision had left him. A few moments afterward, accompanied by his
staff, and wearing his smartest uniform and accoutrement, he was
driven to the pier, where he asked to be conveyed to the American
general. His rank was at once recognized and he was taken to the
commander in charge, being received by him with marked civility,
and consulted relative to the placing of the American troops. Cordial
relations seemed to be established between the two leaders at once;
and Saguanaldo was very much gratified, after the noon hour, to receive
from Judge Benjamin Daft, the man who had been sent from America to
serve as civil governor of the Philippines, an invitation to visit
him on shipboard.

Judge Daft was found to be a large man with a happy smile, who was
very cordial in his manner. Within a very few minutes after they met
Saguanaldo was smoking with him and felt at perfect ease.

"I understand," said Judge Daft, "that it is somewhat embarrassing for
you, as well as for me, that I come with orders to supercede you as
governor of the Philippines. But you understand that the war is not
yet over, and the final termination of things is not yet determined
on. I want to assure you, however, that the United States desires
only the welfare of the Filipinos. I believe it would be better for
us to co-operate and make sure of victory than to quarrel and possibly
defeat the good that both desire."

"Vd. disponza! All I want," said Saguanaldo meekly, "is not to be
humiliated."

"I feel that as a representative of the American republic I can
guarantee you that. You can be of invaluable service in the field in
quelling disorder and bringing opportunity to your people."

"I am not insensible to the fact that you, as representative of a great
republic with standing already before the world, can command greater
respect than I could do as president of the untried Filipino republic."

"A very sensible view to take of it. I am very much pleased to find
so liberal and disinterested a man as you at the head of affairs. It
speaks well both for the Filipino people and for the cause you
represent. The American republic will remember such unselfish
sentiments, and I am sure you will not lose by it."

General Saguanaldo was flattered by these remarks. They made him
desire to appear oven more disinterested. He began:

"My chief concern is for the Filipinos. You can scarcely be ignorant
of the injustice we have borne for centuries. We want freedom and
opportunity. I ask these things for the Filipinos."

"The request does you honor, and it will do America honor to grant
them. Between us all we shall be invincible. With the prestige of
the American republic behind us we can command the good will of the
nations. Rainey's fleet will be able to keep Cavite in subjection. The
American general is an old campaigner who has with him a seasoned army
and the best of equipment, so that he will be able to stand before any
army that Spain can muster against him. Lastly, and most important of
all, you, General, are familiar with the islands of the Philippines,
and can render service as a guide and leader such as no other man on
the earth can give; and in serving us you will be serving yourself and
the cause of Filipino liberty. I have heard much of the Fox of Luzon,
and have felt that if I could formulate a plan that would enable us all
to work together harmoniously, it would be a victory second only to the
great victory that Admiral Rainey won in this beautiful bay of yours."

"I will do all I can, Judge Daft. As you have said, together we shall
be invincible."

"In that case I shall feel no hesitancy about landing. I did think
that perhaps it was not a courteous thing to do, to come from
across the great ocean to your shores and then ask you to take
me in as something more than guest. But in war we can not stand on
ceremony. Your disinterestedness and your courtesy have been so great
that you have made it much easier for me to do my duty."

The two men wandered over the ship, Judge Daft showing Saguanaldo all
the wonders of the modern man of war. They discussed various matters
apart from the questions most in their minds, and always Judge Daft was
courteous and apparently keenly appreciative of Saguanaldo. Following
the visit of Saguanaldo to the battleship, Judge Daft visited him
in the public building of Manila, and, with his permission, the
American flag was run up over the town in place of the flag of the new
republic. Within two days Saguanaldo went into the interior as the
guide rather than the commander of an expedition which the American
general sent against some Spanish troops that had, under the direction
of Bishop Lonzello, been preparing to attack Saguanaldo in Manila,
but that, after the Americans landed, had retired into the interior.

It was only after they had gotten into the interior that Saguanaldo
began to realize his position. It came to him that, though he had
been hailed as president of the Filipino republic, another occupied
his capital, and the Filipino republic was at an end; though he had
been the leader of an insurrection, the insurrection was inoperative;
and he was fighting under another power; though he had celebrated the
independence of the Filipinos, Filipino independence was gone, and
he was seeking to subject the people to another foreign nation. While
he was under the spell of Judge Daft's influence, he had not noticed
it, but now it came to him with all its meaning and bearing all
its bitterness. He felt that he had lost. He felt that he was not
only unable to cope against the arms and warships of this strange
republic from across the seas, but he was also unable to meet their
wiles--diplomacy, they called it. He had heard the word used and now
he was beginning to understand what it really meant.

"I am a fool," he said to himself. "Ambrosia knows it, and so she
despises me. But if I must be beaten I will show her that at least
I am no coward." It was heroism surviving folly.

So ever it is the one who influences human actions, whether they be
good or bad, public or private, in nature.







VIII.

THE MIGHTY DIPLOMAT.


The day following the departure of the allied troops from Manila an
English ship steamed into Manila bay, and among those who landed was
a Jesuit, who came as papal nuncio, a special envoy of the pope,
the astute Leo XIII. He at once hunted up Bishop Lonzello and was
soon closeted with him over wine and cigars, discussing the situation.

"You see yourself the Spaniards cannot stand before the Americans. They
represent the old order, the Americans the new; the old must pass. It
is more than useless, it is folly, to stay with the passing policy."

"But the Spaniards are friends of the church and the Americans are
its enemies."

"I fear you are short-sighted, Brother Lonzello. The Americans are
to be Catholics, while the Spaniards have only been Catholics. A
live dog is better than a dead lion. But the Americans are not to
be despised. The republic is entering on world politics, and if the
Holy Father could control that nation he would as good as control
the world through it."

"But he can never control that nation; it is given to heresy."

"I do not agree with you. Neither does the Holy Father at
Rome. Remember, I am speaking for him. Already we have two million
voters in America. United, that means the balance of power. It is
something that any candidate may well covet. But that is not all. As a
result of this war America will add the Philippines to her territory,
with possibly Cuba and Porto Rico besides. In time, states will be
formed of these territories, and they, being almost wholly Catholic,
will give America to the true religion. It is something worth working
for, and the prospect makes the Holy Father eager that you should
fall in with his plans."

"I can't believe it possible to make America Catholic."

The apostolic nuncio puffed his cigar in silence a moment. Then he
leaned forward and said:

"Suppose we induce the capitalists of America to import a million
Italians to be naturalized. Suppose we secure jobs for a million
Mexicans in America and see that they are naturalized. Suppose that
finally Central America and Mexico are annexed to the United States."

"Why, that is treason to the Latin and the Spanish races."

"No. It is taking advantage of new conditions. America is developed
to the point where it is necessary that she should expand. If she
should dig the Panama canal, it will be natural for her to close
in on territory that divides her, and excuses are more easily
found than grapes in a vineyard. It will aid rather than hinder the
Catholic. American capitalists can pay higher wages than either the
Italians or Mexicans receive and still obtain them cheaper than they
get labor today. Catholic workmen will merely supercede heretics. If
Mexico is taken there will be a leveling up as well as a leveling down,
and the peon will gain immensely by the change."

"But it means an entire change of policy."

"The old policy has been worked to the end, and a new one is
necessary. We are living in an age of machinery. Peon and slave
can no longer yield the returns that the hireling can do by the aid
of machinery. The returns from the Philippines can be quadrupled;
and we were foolish to forego the rich harvest because it involves
a change of tenants."

The friar was flushed and angry. He almost shouted.

"But that means that the Spanish friars are to lose power in the
Philippines. Do you realize what you are asking us to forego?"

"Perfectly. You have had your opportunity and have made a failure of
it. The natives have been rebelling against you for three hundred
years. Now, Aglipay has stirred a schism that has taken from Rome
a majority of our churches. So long as the Spanish friars remain in
power the dissatisfaction will increase rather than diminish. It seems
providential that America should come at this time, for it gives the
supreme pontiff an opportunity to transfer you and by diplomacy save
the work you have done for the church."

The friar sank back in his chair and thought. Then he mildly said:

"It is a hard thing you ask."

"Yes, but your order asked the same thing once of the Jesuits, and,
on order of the Pope, we were expelled from the Philippines for many
years. Now the supreme pontiff is merely exercising his right of
transfer relative to the three orders of friars in the Philippines. It
is his voice, and you will not dare disobey it."

"I suppose, of course, we shall have to submit. But it is hard. Shall
we have to lose our property, our lands?"

"I come with a mission to the Americans relative to them. I have not
talked with the Americans yet, but I can assure you justice. As for
the churches and convents, you have lost them to the church, and it
is part of my mission to regain them for the church."

"I shall have to submit. But I can not overcome my hatred of the
Americans and I will not remain to knuckle to the natives. I wish I
might strike them one hard blow." He brought his fist down on the
table with a thump. The Jesuit was silent a moment. Then he said:
"The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. You know the response."

"The lands which the supreme pontiff gave to Legaspi he may take
again from the heirs of Legaspi."

"I can not for the life of me see where the holy church will profit
from the change, seeing that Spain is a Catholic country and America
is heretic."

"Spain will remain true to the church even if she loses. But if America
wins, then we may not only win back into the fold the schismatics of
the islands, but stand also a chance of winning America, and with
it the world. It is the greatest, opportunity the church has had
for years."

"I do not yet see how you expect to win America."

"We have been working for the conquest of America for centuries,
ever since Columbus gave it to the world and dedicated it to Christ
and his viceregent. After the heretics had taken possession of it, we
have labored without cessation to win it back. We brought believing
emigrants to the cities until we control many of them. We now have
ten million population and two million voters, controlling several
states and holding the balance of political power. Already the
politicians are taking cognizance of us, But, more important than
this, the statesmen are looking for a power that can withstand the
tide of Socialism that is sweeping over the land and are ready to
make concessions to us for our influence.

"The most far-seeing of American politicians recently remarked that
some day Socialism would become a menace to the world and that
the strongest influence to combat it would be the Roman Catholic
church. Acting on this belief he has already been negotiating for
our support. It was the Catholic vote that saved America from the
domination of the middle class when threatened by the mob in 1896. It
was members of my order who fanned the flame that led to the present
war, so that America might enter on world politics. The end is not
yet. The Pope sees the importance of our plans, and you must submit. We
intend that in the future it shall be known that he who would succeed
at the polls must have our favor. We have the power now, and we shall
use it. The Brotherhood of Jesus has been banished from almost every
country on the face of the globe, but in spite of this we have remained
loyal to our extreme oath, and have not for a moment faltered in our
purpose to make America Catholic. We are now at the point of success,
and the supreme pontiff sends me to command you to yield. Is your
loyalty sufficient for that? Remember, we have been driven from land
after land, and show yourself as true as the Jesuits have been."

Bishop Lonzello did not reply. But he filled the two glasses, and as
he raised his glass to his lips he proposed the toast:

"Leo, the greatest of Popes. When he speaks it is time for the rest
of the world to be silent."

After the toast had been drunk the Jesuit father referred no more
to the topic about which he had been talking. They were sitting by
the window looking out on the street where quite a few people were
promenading. As one woman after another passed they discussed the
good points of each and waxed merry over the wine, rehearsing many
salacious stories. Finally Ambrosia Lonzello passed. The Jesuit,
looking on her, remarked:

"That is the woman for me. She has the woman's ten perfect points. Do
you know her, Brother?"

The bishop's lips were dry and his heart was enraged as he answered,
feebly, "Yes."

"Can't you give me opportunity to hear her confession?"

The bishop knew what was implied by the request, and his heart was
fired with the heat of his passion. He made a motion once to kick
the Jesuit down stairs. But the knowledge that he was a special
envoy of the Pope, and, more than that, the counter-fire of anger at
Ambrosia, and the fierce flame of his hatred of Saguanaldo, caused
him to desist. Indeed, the first flames had eaten so deeply into his
heart that there was little left for the flame caused by the insult
to touch. He merely answered, quietly, after swallowing a little:

"That is the sweetheart of the insurgent general, Saguanaldo."

"Ah, that is good," responded the Jesuit. "You hate him and would
like to wound him to the death before you go. Behold, the Lord hath
delivered him into your hands. Promise me that the girl shall confess
to me."

He seized the bishop's arm and leered lewdly at him. "You really must,
for I am mad from continence while on the water. Some day I will do
as much for you. Won't you, good Bishop?"

Bishop Lonzello clenched his fist and hissed through his teeth,
"Yes; and may God damn your soul to hell."







IX.

A LITTLE GAME.


"I am very glad to meet you as a citizen, but of course it is against
the policy of my country to receive you as an envoy from the Pope."

"Very well, Judge Daft, we shall not quarrel over a little thing
like that."

It was the Jesuit talking to the new American governor. He had no
intention of abandoning his purpose, but he meant to approach it by
indirection. He knew something of diplomacy himself, and so devoted a
few minutes to casual conversation. He was by nature and practice an
expert in the recounting of stories, having found that an art which
won where no other art was honored, and the two passed a pleasant
half hour together. Finally, as Rodriguez Violeta, the Jesuit father,
arose to take his departure, he said:

"If I speak purely as an individual, I presume you will not object
to my asking that you treat us fairly relative to churches and
church lands."

"By no means. I have no objection to telling you that I desire to
treat you fairly in these and all other matters."

"Perhaps you would not object, then, to issuing an order that, until
the matter can be settled in the courts, the possession of churches
is to be secured to the party in possession, whether that party
be the Roman Catholic church or the Filipino Catholic church. This
seems to me to be fair, and I believe is in accordance with American
jurisprudence."

"I shall be glad to issue an order of that nature to the soldiers in
the Philippines. Anything that is mutually just will be granted you;
and, while I can not receive you as envoy of the Pope, I shall take
pleasure in hearing your recommendations as an individual of experience
who is capable of understanding your people and presenting your side
of the controversy in a fair and liberal way."

"If I can be of any service to you, it will afford me pleasure to
be commanded by you. I do believe, however, that the holy father,
the Pope, has a plan which would save you very much trouble. I wish
you would permit me to present it--as an individual."

"You are at perfect liberty to do that. Be seated and I will hear you."

The Jesuit re-seated himself. The camel's nose had found entrance,
and the rest of the body was about to follow.

"The Spanish friars are at the bottom of all the trouble in the
Philippines. The Aglipayan schism came because of them, and the
many revolts that have disturbed the islands for the past three
centuries have been because the people wanted native rather than
Spanish priests. Now Leo, who has always been friendly to America
and Americans, is desirous of removing the Spanish friars from the
Philippines."

Judge Daft leaned forward, evidently interested. "This concerns me
greatly," he said. "Outline to me the plan more fully."

The Jesuit ignored the request. Instead of answering him directly,
he observed: "This would greatly simplify matters and make your
problem sensibly easier of solution."

"I am conscious of that," asserted the Judge, betraying eagerness,
a weakness which revealed that he was being beaten in diplomacy.

"America can easily handle the Spanish army. Your future problems
will lie with pacifying the natives and adjudicating the conflicting
claim of the two churches."

"You understand the situation just as it presents itself to me."

"You have splendid opportunities here."

"You mean, to make a fool of myself?" laughed Judge Daft.

"That is an opportunity that knocks often at every man's door. But
I was not thinking of that. I was merely musing--speaking aloud the
thing I thought--and a man never ought to do that."

"Sometimes I think he never ought to speak aloud anything else than
his undisguised thoughts. I shall insist on hearing this novel thing,
the undisguised thought of a Jesuit."

"I meant, opportunity to make yourself a reputation that shall lead
to future political power. Who knows but that the presidency of the
United States lies along this path?"

"I am not ambitious."

"I understand that; indeed, I was not thinking so much of you as an
individual as of you in your position. I was musing, you know. We
Jesuits naturally look into the political possibilities of things,
and I am astonished at the possibilities I see before you."

"War generally brings a warrior to the front. The people take pleasure
in preferring their military heroes."

"That is very true. I perceive you are an astute politician. Because
you are so far-sighted, you cannot fail to realize that if you are
enabled to satisfactorily settle a dispute that has been raging
for three centuries, and give America the Philippines to exploit,
you will have distinguished yourself in a way that is sure to bring
reward. Perhaps not at once. The military hero may come first, while
your reputation is in process of building; but if you succeed, your
time will come."

"The people are very forgetful."

"But men of affairs are not, and they are the folks who count. The
substantial business men, who see the advantages that accrue to
them because of these things, will remember; and the holy church
never forgets. We alone poll two million votes in America now. But,
remember, I am only musing. I am asking nothing. I shall report,
however, the kindness you have shown me, which will, I feel sure,
help to make your task easier."

"For your suggestions I thank you. You shall be welcome whenever you
choose to call--in your individual capacity."

"You are a sly dog, Judge. I confess myself completely out-generaled
in diplomacy, and have dropped it. Hereafter I wish to be known only
as your friend. In the language of the Spaniards, buenas noches,
amizo mio."

Never more of a diplomat than when he was claiming to have abandoned
diplomacy, the priest took his departure, knowing that he had left
thoughts that would cling and bear fruit. He understood that, though
the Judge might have been able to handle the simple-minded Saguanaldo
by his diplomacy, every good has its better and he had been bested
without realizing it. It is the true test of wit that cuts so smoothly
one does not know of his wound at the time it is given.

The Jesuit sought Bishop Lonzello and spoke imperiously and exultantly:

"I am to have an order from the American governor that the soldiers
are to protect in possession either side of the controversy that
may have possession of churches and convents. You want to summon all
you can command and seize at night on all these buildings that you
can. You haven't half of them now, and by this means you may secure
practically all of them. And the American army is pledged to maintain
you in possession of them, once you are in charge. There is no time
for delay."

Lonzello was not a man who needed to have explained to him the
advantage this gave the friars. He sprang up, before the Jesuit was
through speaking, and began preparing to go on the street and set
his machinery in motion.

"You will not find me sleeping," he said.

The Jesuit leered: "Am I to confess that young woman as my reward?"

Lonzello opened the door and showed him from the room, kicking at
him as he passed. Once the Jesuit was outside, however, he said:

"I will send the girl to the cathedral at ten o'clock tomorrow."

Then he closed the door.







X.

SECRETS.


Ambrosia's mother had again received a visit from Bishop Lonzello. This
time he had insisted that his daughter confess in order that she
might be forgiven and the curse pronounced against her rendered
null. It is possible that the bishop himself believed that the
curse held power. Certain it is that the woman feared it and had
wept almost constantly since that day that it had been pronounced
on Ambrosia. Now she fell in with the idea of Ambrosia confessing
and securing release from the curse. She brought the matter before
her daughter, who demurred. Then she urged it with such insistence,
declaring that filial duty required some reparation on her part,
that Ambrosia was touched, and, at the same time, being plagued by
the importunity of her mother, consented to confess, and even to
confess before the foreign friar, in the church against which she
was in rebellion. Indeed, she preferred the foreigner to one of the
priests who had long resided in the islands and fallen with its ways.

Behold, then, Ambrosia Lonzello at the cathedral before the
confessional in which Violeta was seated. She did not know it, but
the moment she entered the confessional the door had been locked
behind her by an attendant, at the signal from the officiating priest.

Ambrosia knelt at the confessional, troubled in heart. She felt out
of place in a church against which she was in rebellion; and, while
feeling that she ought to atone for disrespect shown a father, still
she knew not what to say. She knelt in prayer, and as she prayed,
the priest within the cell gazed upon her with lustful eyes, studying
her points as a sportsman might study the creature he meant to kill
and devour. As he looked, the appetite for sex, the fiercest passion
that sways mankind, took possession of and began to rage within
him. Finally he spoke:

"Daughter, have you been guilty of disloyalty to the holy church? Have
you consorted with those who are the enemies of the religion and of
their country?"

Naturally, the question, so unexpected, disconcerted the girl kneeling
before the cell with her eyes so downcast that she did not see the
priest within the cell. Various emotions surged within her. Her
first impulse was to deny rebellion to true religion and rush from
the church. But she concluded that it were best to remain and admit
the thing that had caused her mother sorrow. So she confessed:

"I have met the general of the insurrectionists and am his friend. But
I am not an enemy of the true religion."

"Have you met him at night?"

The girl, although, knowing it compromised her, said softly, "Yes."

"Late at night or early in the morning?"

Again she faltered as she replied, "Both."

"Were you two alone?"

"Yes."

"Did he employ embraces or kisses toward you?"

Still lower, hardly above a whisper, "Yes; but we are engaged."

"Did he caress you, feeling over your person with his hands--like
this?"

The priest's hands were upon her, and he was taking liberties no
other man had ever done. She tried to arise from the cushion where she
knelt, but strong arms about her prevented. Then the priest stepped
from the confessional and held her in his arms.

"Did he kiss you--like this?" the priest asked. "Did he press you to
his bosom--like this?" She was now in his embrace, struggling in vain
to free herself. "Nay, do not struggle, little bird. If you grant
such favors to enemies of religion, you ought not to refuse them to
representatives of the Lord."

"How can you call yourself a representative of the Lord when you do
these things?" she managed to ask between his kisses.

"Why, Chuleta, did not the Holy Ghost overshadow even the blessed
virgin? And is it not an honor to be embraced by one who stands,
as it were, in the very person of Christ? If you have yielded to the
enemy of the Master, ought you not yield to the true representative
of the Master, and so make atonement to him?"

For answer, she managed to free one hand and slap his face.

"You do not know the manner of my country," said the priest, thrusting
his hand in her bosom. "The instructions for confession, issued by
Saint Liguori, says: 'Kisses, embraces, squeezing of the hands and
similar things not indecent, if done only as marks of affability or
benevolence, according to the custom of the country, in an honest way,
are not sins.' Again: 'To speak, hear, read, write indecent things
with a legitimate reason is no sin. Hence, in order to administer
the sacrament of penance priests can lawfully hear and read all they
wish.' Tell me what this insurgent did to you."

The girl wrenched herself away, and, flying to the door, tried to
open it. The priest stood and smiled.

"The case is hopeless," he said. "You might as well confess."

"Have you no regard for your sacred calling? Have you no regard for
this sacred place?" she asked.

"Nothing is more sacred than love," said he. "Saint Liguori says:
'Concerning the locality, every external carnal action, although
hidden in a sacred place, is a sacrilege. However, cells, a cloister,
the vestry, the roof above the church, its door and vestibule, are
excluded.' You see we are excused."

"Excused! Oh, the wickedness of your heart! I wonder not that
Saguanaldo broke away from the church you represent."

"Nay, child, you misunderstand. If it is given to Peter and his
successors to forgive sins, then whatever they may do can be no
sin, but is, as it were, the act of God himself. You who think your
highest virtue is to love God ought to esteem it an honor that you
have provoked the love of God's representative on earth."

"Fiend!" shrieked the girl. "Help, help!" The words echoed from the
wall, but seemed to penetrate no further.

There was no response, and the priest smiled: "It is foolish to resist
the Lord who loves you," he said. "It is in my power to absolve you
from sin, and even to grant you indulgence to commit that which might
under other circumstances be sin. Don't be foolish, child."

He sought to grasp her in his arms again, but she eluded him. Then
he began in a pleading voice:

"Is it my fault that I love you? Why are you not as kind to me as you
were to that heretic? You are in the confessional, and I can not only
absolve you from sin, but I am also pledged to secrecy. Be kind to me."

"Oh, loathsome thing, I hate you."

"But I love you."

"Love, indeed! You pollute the word, like you do the office you hold
and the building here and all else that should be sacred."

"You know not how I love you. Oh, how I long toward you! 'Item
ordinarie mortalia nabenda sunt escula in ore, seu lingua in ore
introducta vel excepta. [11]' Are you not, indeed, the bride of
Christ?"

"Oh, devil that you are! It is you who have confessed to me, and though
you live to be a century of age, confessing every day such villainy
as this, I could but hate you worse with every morn, and never could
forgive you. If there is hell, where he who burns in lust and anger,
burns in flame, then there's your place. If there is a heaven that
hears the voice of innocence, sending the white angels down to give
it succor, then will the heaven open now, and white-robed creatures
will deliver me. Oh, thou divine Christ, come now and judge between
us. Oh, God of purity, deliver me from this, thine enemy."

"You do not understand. I wish you no wrong. Love is not wrong."

"Love thinketh no evil."

"Love is not expressed in words. It never can be told, but in embraces
and fondlings. Christ, how I love you and long toward you! 'Delectatio
venerea autem seu carnalisest ca, quea oritur ex commotione spiritum
genertioni inservientum et sentitur circa partes genitales.' You can
not comprehend how I am stirred."

"You know not how you fright me. Oh, sir, I plead with you to let
me go. Do not for a moment's passion damn your own soul and ruin me
forever. Show but the manhood that will set me free, and for that
manhood's sake I will say that, though tempted, you had the hardihood
to overcome, and I, for that hardihood that won, will be silent as
to all you have done and said."

"What do you think I am? Does the sportsman set the bird free when
it chirps? I am not so foolish or so weak."

"Then let me ask one thing: Did my father deliver me into your hands?"

"Is the Bishop Lonzello your father?"

"He is."

"Oh, then I understand some things that have been dark. I also have
full license now for anything I can do, and you can find no fault
in the fault that marked both your parents. Come and give me a kiss,
like a good girl, Chuleta!"

"God in heaven, send me protection," gasped the girl in a faint voice.

A moment later the priest grasped her in his arms, and his lips seized
hers in a long, hard, passionate kiss.







XI.

WHAT RUIN MEANS.


Early the following morning Ambrosia Lonzello was released from
the convento [12] in which she had been detained the night long,
and staggered into the street. Suffering physically, nervous almost
to prostration, and mentally overwhelmed with horror, she walked,
she scarcely knew where. She felt that she dare not go home--that
father and mother had betrayed her, and that now she was an outcast,
with no friend and with no place on earth. Even heaven had been deaf
to her call, and she felt that the divine Father, too, and the Christ
who had sympathized with Magdalene, cared nothing for her.

It is a wise provision of nature, apparently attesting her sympathy
with suffering, that when sorrow and pain tug almost to the point of
destruction at the heart or body, she provides her own opiate. In
the article of death almost all creatures are at peace, and fear
nothing. Gradually this numbness came over Ambrosia. She apparently
could not realize all that had happened. She ceased to feel the full
burden of her anguish, and became numb, as it were. She no longer
planned, she followed her heart. Indeed, she became more conscious
of the glory of the morning than of her own ruin, and in spite of
her mind's declaration that there was no place in the world for her,
she saw nature beautiful and friendly about her and felt that not
yet had God excluded her.

Her brain would not work, but her heart thought of Saguanaldo and those
whom she had thought to be her friends. It was this thread invisible
that led her to the camp of the Americans. When she arrived she met
first a minor officer and asked to be shown to the commander in charge.

"All right, Miss, just go into the tent and wait until I bring him,"
was the reply to her request.

She entered the tent and seated herself. As she waited a feeling of
drowsiness overpowered her. Finally, scarcely knowing what she did,
she threw herself on the cot in the tent and slept. The soldier who
occupied the tent peeped in and saw her.

"Gee," said he to his messmate, "she don't want the commander now. She
has already made a night of it and needs nothing so bad as sleep."

"Let's wait till she awakens and then keep her to ourselves."

"We ought to have some rent for our tent."

"Sure."

When Ambrosia awakened several hours later one of the soldiers was
at her side and the tent was closed and darkened. She remained in the
tent two days, during which time she was repeatedly assaulted by the
two soldiers. Instead of finding a refuge, she had merely fallen into
another trap. There really is no escape for a creature that is hunted,
especially if that creature be a woman.







XII.

A CHANGE OF SEX.


When next Ambrosia Lonzello regained consciousness she was reposing
in a room familiar to her, at the home of Mrs. Rizal. After her
last bitter experience she had been cast into the street in a fever
and delirium, and, happily for her, had soon been picked up by
Mrs. Rizal, who had taken her to her home and nursed her through a
siege of fever. Now, as Ambrosia opened her eyes with a rational look,
Mrs. Rizal, smiling on her, said:

"You are better now."

"How do I come to be here?" asked the girl in confusion.

"I found you wandering on the street in a fever and brought you here."

"Oh, then it is true," cried the girl in horror as memory came to
her. "I must go, I am not fit to be in this room with you."

"Nonsense," responded the older woman, smoothing her pillow. "You
have been having bad dreams, and you must forget about them."

"Are you sure they were dreams?"

"Perfectly. You have been very sick."

"Where is mother?"

"She has been to see you often, and will come again."

"Did she say where I had been?"

"She said you had started to confessional, and I suppose the fever
came upon you while you were on the way."

The girl lay silent for a time. Finally tears gathered in her eyes. It
was a good sign that the power of crying had returned to her; tears
are a mark of humanity, and only they who are dehumanized or rendered
outcasts by persecution or sorrow are unable to weep. Mrs. Rizal
stooped and kissed the girl. It was the one act of sympathy she needed
to break up the fountains of her heart, for it showed that she was
not entirely abandoned, and Ambrosia wept unrestrainedly.

"You will be better now," said Mrs. Rizal when the flood of tears
had passed.

"Does--General Saguanaldo know?" asked Ambrosia.

"If he did, he would have come." Again it was the wisest word that
could have been spoken, simple and unlearned though it may have been,
for it intimated that her lover had not ceased to care, and this was
of all things the most consoling. Yet a moment after it occurred to
Ambrosia that if Saguanaldo had desired to come and not been able, he,
too, had been burdened and in trouble. Then it was, with a woman's
abnegation, Ambrosia thought of the woe of her dear one rather than
of her own sorrow, and this, too, was an advantage to her.

"Are they having trouble at the front?" she asked.

"Yes," Mrs. Rizal replied. "The friars have seized on the churches,
the hospitals and convents, and now the American troops are maintaining
them in possession of the property they hold. It is the same as though
the Americans, after Saguanaldo had turned the city of Manila over
to them, had turned against him and were making war on him and in
favor of the friars."

"Someone is behind this change," declared the girl after a moment's
thought.

"Yes, there is a Jesuit here, an envoy from the Pope."

Ambrosia sat up in bed, her eyes distended in horror.

"Then it is true," she said. "It was not a dream. It was good in you
to care for me and not desert me in my pollution, but I know now it
is true, and you need not deny it."

"But,"--began Mrs. Rizal.

"I will not talk about it," interrupted the girl, "and God will
reward you who are so different from other women in that you did
not turn away from the victim as from a thing polluted. No, do not
interrupt. I am strong now. There is only one thing I may do with
the remnant of life left to me. I have no longer father or mother,
God or redeemer. I have no place in society on earth. I have no lover,
no chance for home or respectability. But I have hope and a purpose. It
has just come to me. Do not deny me in the plan I have."

"I will listen to your plan, but you are weak and not yet able to
do anything."

The girl leaped out of the bed, let down her hair and hunted a pair
of shears. "Cut off my hair, closely," she said.

"I fear you are not yet over the fever," remonstrated Mrs. Rizal.

"I have had no fever," said the girl, "and I am well. I shall be
strong for vengeance and justice. Nay, do not fear, good Mother Rizal,
I am sane."

"You have not told me your plan."

"Inasmuch as Ambrosia Lonzello has lost all place in society and on
earth, she had the fever and is dead. She is merely another victim of
the friars. I, who stand before you, am not Ambrosia Lonzello. I am
a man, now and henceforth. I feel within me the vigor and courage of
manhood, proving the transformation. Henceforth I shall live only
for vengeance and to assist Saguanaldo, who had been Ambrosia's
friend. Cut off the hair that belies my sex, and then we all go to
the field to give our lives for the cause."

Mrs. Rizal expostulated, but in vain. She argued as to the girl's
lack of strength, but was actually laughed out of the idea. At last
she fell in with the plan, both as being in accord with her own desire
and also as being perhaps the only course open to the girl after what
had happened.

A few hours afterward, then, the transformation was completed. The
girl, with her hair cropped close and wearing a suit that had belonged
in days past to Dr. Rizal, looked very much like a vigorous young
man, and Mrs. Rizal was gratified to find that she showed no sign of
failing physical powers. Indeed, she was to all appearance well again.

"You see, I have merely been transformed into a new creature," said
the youth, smiling and showing two rows of perfect white teeth. "My
name is Hilario Agonoy, at your service." Bowing low.

"When shall we go to the seat of war?"

"Mañana [13]," replied the youth, gaily. "Don't you see that Ambrosia
is dead?"







XIII.

OFF TO THE WAR.


The next day Mrs. Rizal and her companion, known as Hilario Agonoy,
set out into the country to join Saguanaldo.

After they had proceeded a few miles beyond the city they walked
along through the jungle over a trail that was rough, stumpy, stony,
and at places almost overgrown and hidden by bamboo growths, trees,
ferns, and tropical grasses. Occasionally they came to a grass hut in
the midst of a little clearing, and here the friendly peasants, who for
the most part, knew Mrs. Rizal, extended their hospitality in the form
of invitations to remain with them. In places the women would be at
work in the rice fields or cultivating tobacco or sugar cane. They were
barefoot and bare armed, wearing only shifts that but partly enveloped
them, meagerly concealing their fine physiques. Sometimes a man,
barefoot and wearing only two garments, would be seen following the
carabao, the native ox, as it dragged the wooden plow that scratched
the soil.

There were fields of abace or native hemp, rice and indigo. Sometimes
the pilgrims would pass through groves of mahogany or cashu and see
men at work with bolos, felling trees for lumber, or with sierras
[14] slowly cutting boards from teque or mahogany. Sometimes they saw
them grinding cane in the trapiche [15]. Sometimes at night they saw
the zanita, the Philippine bee, working by moonlight and storing its
honey on the underside of slanting branches; and one day, when the
bees were asleep Agonoy climbed a tree while the two laughed at his
struggles, and the honey he obtained constituted their supper. They
passed haciendas [16] and pueblos [17]. Once they came upon a cemetery
where a couple of corpses were hanging, because the friends of the dead
could or would not put up enough money to pay for the continuous burial
in consecrated ground. Occasionally they were "given a lift," to use an
American expression, on a carata, behind a carabao. They saw at times
the timid galina del monte, the wild chickens that ranged the forests,
and at other times were regaled with the anona or custard apple.



Now and then there were streams to cross. For the most part these
were waded or passed over on logs felled to bridge them, though
in a few cases there were rustic bridges made of bamboo curiously
woven together.

Everywhere poverty was visible, poverty abject and pitiable.



Now and then they came to villages where there were fine brick churches
and conventos; and a few other good buildings, beside many huts that
under the operation of the Spanish law poor people were enabled to
build. The churches were guarded by American soldiers, and in almost
every village the inevitable convento was occupied by officers of the
American army. Invariably the friar lands were better cultivated and of
a better quality than elsewhere, and resembled the old plantations in
the American southern states when they were kept in good condition by
slave labor; for the peasants bore the marks of poverty and hard work.



The weather was enervating at all times, and often dismal from the
drenching tropical rains, for it was the rainy season. Streams were
up and the trails were muddy. During the heat of the day a choking
malarial steam arose from the earth as the moisture evaporated. The
people were kept much indoors. It was too disagreeable even for a
revolt against Spain.

They inquired in private for Saguanaldo, and were told that he had
deserted the American army and gone into the interior. Others of the
Filipinos had followed his lead in desertion, but it seemed that
they had not yet come together into anything like an army. As to
his exact location, nobody knew. The Americans were looking for him,
too, and the natives were careful, even before Mrs. Rizal and Agonoy,
to not say too much.

"The Americans are going to force us into fighting them," a Filipino
told them in one of the villages. "They are overbearing and insulting,
calling us 'niggers' and treating us as inferiors."

"I feared as much. The Philippines are too rich for them to give
up. They want the islands for themselves."

"Let me show you."

The Filipino led them to a hut where a man lay on a mat within,
evidently seriously injured.

"The Americans gave him the water cure. This punishment was first
learned from the Filipinos themselves." Said the Filipino: "They laid
him on his back and pinioned his limbs. Then they put a funnel in his
mouth and held his nose while they poured him so full of water that
it ran out of his nose and eyes and ears. It was horrible torture."

"Why did they do it?" asked Agonoy, with sinking heart.

"In order to force him to reveal the whereabouts of Saguanaldo. You
see why I have to be careful as to what I say. All I can do is to
direct you to go on still further."

On they went passing into the primitive. They went even into the
region of the head hunters, where the beautiful and symmetrical
volcano, Mayon, lifted its green sides against the blue sky beyond;
and here they saw the warriors who adhered to the old ways, and,
severing the heads of their enemies with the bolos which they used
also for clearing the roads through the bamboo brakes, dried them and
retained the gruesome relics, reduced to a few inches in diameter,
as trophies of war.

But the savage tribes were kind to the pilgrims. They, too, were at
enmity with Spain and all they regarded as foreigners, ready to take
sides with Saguanaldo should he call them forth.

"It seems to me they are more civilized and gentle in their way than
are the people from the West," said Agonoy.

"No people are so destructive and wasteful as those who call themselves
civilized," returned Mrs. Rizal. "I am of them and understand them,
and I tremble for the future of the Filipinos. The Americans will
bring the foreigner and the natives will disappear before him. They
will bring the machine, and such as remain will be chained to it,
and compelled to render to them a tribute many times in excess of
that which Spain has exacted from you. You have been poor, but you
have not starved. Civilization brings the slum and abject hunger."

Agonoy answered not. He was thinking about something that to him seemed
to be a dream, yet which he knew to be true--of the awful experiences
of a girl, to all intents and purposes dead, who had suffered at the
hands of civilization, the apex of possible human suffering.

So the two walked on and on. Sometimes they heard of Saguanaldo,
and again lost trace of him. They passed on into wilder regions, into
places infested by mosquitoes, snakes and other loathsome things; to
regions where mango birds were numerous and where the pigeon of the
crucifixion with the red cross on its breast had its habitat. Often
lost, they could go but slowly; sometimes they slept alone in the
great forests. But ever they pressed on.

Finally, after days out, the two travelers came upon Saguanaldo in
a grass hut in a thicket near the southern end of the island. As
they approached, piloted by a friendly Igorrote, Saguanaldo arose in
evident surprise. After exchanging greetings Mrs. Rizal said:

"General Saguanaldo, we came to take with you the fortunes of war."

"Señora Rizal, you are welcome. We shall need all the soldiers we can
gather, and your advice will be valuable in this time of trouble. The
name of the boy"--

"Hilario Agonoy," said Mrs. Rizal, quickly.

"You are welcome. Señora Rizal and the boy; we shall want you both
at the council of war which we are about to hold."

"Private soldiers are not often taken into councils," suggested Agonoy.

"Oh, yes, they are when there are only three present," suggested
Saguanaldo, with grim humor. But Agonoy did not join in the laugh
that followed.

By Saguanaldo's side sat Bishop Aglipay, Obispo Maximo, the leader of
the revolt against the friars. Only these four were left, though others
were ready to take up arms when Saguanaldo suggested. It was a pitiful
remnant of the gay throng that had such a short time ago celebrated
Philippine independence, hailing Saguanaldo as president. Saguanaldo
began:

"We shall need to confer as to the best mode of procedure, because we
are in desperate situation. We are in a much worse shape than before
the American army came. Then we were in possession of more than half
the churches in the Philippines, and besides that, held Manila. But
now I have been tricked away from the Philippine capital, and the
American troops are protecting the churches for the friars."

"How did they come to get the churches which you had?" Mrs. Rizal
was addressing Aglipay. She knew, but wanted his version of it.

"We were fearing nothing," the leader of the schism explained, "when
in one night, just before the American troops arrived on the scene,
Spanish soldiers seized on the churches while we slept. The next day
the American troops came, and as, it appears, they had been ordered
to protect in possession of their properties whoever they might find
in possession of them, they at once became allies of the friars."

"And here I, who was with them," exclaimed Saguanaldo indignantly,
"I, who had given them peaceable possession of Manila, was ordered
to protect the friars in possession that they gained by trickery."

"What did you do?" asked Mrs. Rizal.

"Do? I passed the word to as many of my followers as possible, and
fled. Not one of them came, though."

"That seems to have been the best thing you could have done--for the
friars," returned Mrs. Rizal. "In doing that you became rebellious
against the United States, and now, I understand, have the American
army on your trail."

"That is true; but what else could I have done? Had I done nothing I
would have been fighting for the Spaniards, and, as it were, against
myself. I had the Americans against me, anyhow."

"But now the case is hopeless. So long as the Spaniards were your
enemies, without outside help, there was some hope that some day
you might have beaten them. But, now that the Americans are allies
of the Spaniards the case is hopeless. It is too great a nation for
you to combat. Recall how the Spanish fleet melted away before the
American fleet in the bay of Manila and tell me what chance you will
have before the giant foe from across the seas."

"I don't see why the Americans turned against us, when they came here
to fight the Spaniards," said Aglipay gloomily.

"The reason is very plain," returned the woman.

"Was it that they were offended at me because I had been made president
of the Filipino republic?" asked Saguanaldo.

"No."

"Are the American people, then, not lovers of liberty, and are they
merely waging a war of conquest in the name of liberty?" Aglipay asked.

"The answer is found in the fact that there is not a member of the
Filipino Catholic church in all America, while there are ten million
Roman Catholics there."

"Ah, political reasons, then," suggested the bishop. He as an olden
friar understood something of how politics modified policies.

"Yes. Though your schism might have a greater power here than the
friars have, it commands no influence in America. The American who
favors the other side will have friends at home, while one who would
favor you would find enemies there that might destroy his influence
and his future. You are not only fighting the American army here,
and the friars here, but also, as it were, all the people of America."

The two men reflected moodily for a few minutes.

"There is nothing to do but to fight until we perish," said Saguanaldo.

"One should not die for a cause unless there is good cause for the
sacrifice. Do you find that the people rally to you?"

"No," said the insurgent bitterly. "They sympathize and see the
danger, but it seems they have not the interest that dares to risk
all and fight."

"Even the men you can command are not disciplined or drilled or
properly equipped."

"No. The Americans have the equipment I had collected."

"Nor would the various tribes be likely to cling together," suggested
the woman.

"This cursed race feeling! The only way the tribes will stay together
is when they war with each other; then they are together in battling
each other." There was dogged bitterness in Saguanaldo's words.

"I do not see how you can win by fighting. What does a grinning
skull care for vengeance? But there is a way in which you may win,
General Saguanaldo."

"How," asked the general, eagerly.

"By yielding. It is often the surest way of winning. You have an
unexpected ally."

"Who can it be?"

"None other than the Pope at Rome."

"The Pope!" exclaimed both men in a breath.

"Yes. The Pope understands that the Spanish friars are at the bottom
of the long trouble in the Philippines and is glad of the war that
will give him an excuse for removing them. That will be a victory
for him; and, as he has already managed to get possession of the
churches, it means a victory for the church as well. If you can get
the friendship of America, so that the country will treat you justly,
it will also be a victory for the Filipino people."

"And I am to lose all that I have struggled for?" protested Saguanaldo.

"And I to lose the organization which I have built up through the
years?" added the Bishop.

"Better to lose these things alone than to lose both them and your
lives as well," suggested Mrs. Rizal.

"If a common soldier might be permitted to speak"--faltered Hilario
Agonoy.

"Say what you wish," suggested the insurgent general. "We are all
equal in our love for the cause."

"I prefer to fight even though I know we must lose. There is some
satisfaction in punishing those who have treated us so unjustly, and
every blow we strike will cause them to have the greater respect for
the Filipino people in the future. If we could punish that Jesuit"--

"And Bishop Lonzello," added Aglipay.

"To my mind there is nothing left us to do but fight," added General
Saguanaldo, visibly pleased. "We in the interior can conduct a
guerrilla warfare that will cause the enemy to respect us, and make
the new masters more inclined to do us justice. I trust, Señora Rizal,
you will not desert us if we take this action."

Mrs. Rizal arose. "I am with, you to the last," she said. "I am not
afraid to die, either, just as my husband died before me. If I may
be asked to designate the service I am to perform, I would ask that
the youth here and I be permitted to go among the people and arouse
them with our songs and speeches. We can rally you a force, General."

"Go, and God bless you. There is one question I would ask you if I
may speak to you in private."

General Saguanaldo and Mrs. Rizal stepped a few paces away.

"Have you seen Ambrosia?" he asked. "Is she well, and does she remain
true to me?"

"Ambrosia has the strength of a man," returned Mrs. Rizal, "in the
cause of Filipino independence. She is true, and will ever be near
you--in spirit."







XIV.

THE COLLEGE YELL.


Mrs. Rizal and Hilario Agonoy, after much effort, succeeded in
rallying a force to Saguanaldo. It was a motley crowd, composed of
representatives of several different tribes, armed with shot guns,
bolos and whatever they could secure, and garbed all the way from a
soldier's uniform to breech clouts and feathers. There were perhaps
five thousand of them, all told.

With this force, Saguanaldo began a careful march toward the north part
of the island. Mrs. Rizal and Agonoy went ahead and discovered that a
force of Americans were advancing inland to meet them. Consequently
Saguanaldo stopped at the banks of the Rio Grande, and prepared
rifle pits. He also removed from the bridge that crosses the stream
the flooring, leaving only the sills, the girders, and cross pieces
about every seven feet apart. The first night after these preparations
had been made the American troops appeared and encamped on the bank
opposite, some 300 feet away.

The Filipinos were not inclined to attack, but relied on the river,
which was high and threatening, to keep the enemy from them. Yet the
second night, about 11 p. m., the cackling and crowing of chickens at
farm houses on the other side, and part way down stream, told them
that some movement was in progress. It was immediately across the
stream from where Agonoy had been stationed with some threescore
natives. At the time the clatter began the moon came out, and it
was revealed that a force of Americans was at work on the margin
of the river, evidently trying to launch some rafts with a view to
crossing. Agonoy directed the men to fire, and a fusillade from the
insurgents soon drove the Americans to cover. Hiding behind trees,
stumps, rocks or anything that would afford protection, they remained
silent until the fire of the insurgents ceased. Then, after a time,
they again made endeavor to launch their rafts, until the forces
under Agonoy once more drove them away.

This first victory, won by the insurgents, gave them great
encouragement and Agonoy was publicly commended by the general. It
is still remembered that when this occurred the young officer first
blushed fiery red and then broke into tears.

The day following the Americans undertook by daylight the thing which
they had before tried at night. But they began in a little different
way. They were seen to dump some rafts into the river over a high
bank, and then two men, stripped to the skin, dived into the stream
and began to swim across. The insurgents peppered at them, while the
Americans from the other shore shot at every head among the Filipinos
that showed itself. Bullets splashed on all sides of the swimmers,
but none took effect. As they drew to shore they were protected by
the bank, the Filipinos being unable to fire at them because of thus
exposing themselves. Then it was seen that they had borne a cable
across the stream. It became apparent that the intention was to hitch
it so some object on the Filipino side of the river and thus form a
means of propelling the rafts across the stream. But the two naked,
unarmed white men, alone on the Filipino side of the Rio Grande,
were unable to find a place to which to hitch. Daubed with dirt and
glistening with the water, they raced back and forth under protection
of the bank, looking for stump or tree, but in vain.

"There is a stump in the rifle pit, up there," remarked one.

"We must hitch to that," said the other. "Make you some mud balls."

They scooped up mud from the river and hugged to their breasts the
balls of filth as they started to climb the banks directly ahead of
them. Meantime the American soldiers fired over their heads. As they
arose over the bank and stood erect looking into the rifle pits, they
began throwing the mud balls. The first one struck Agonoy full in the
face, and the young commander, with eyes and mouth full of dirt, began
clawing at the mud and retreating. The natives, seeing this, and not
knowing the nature of the new weapon, broke into a run and retreated.

Meantime a raft had started across the stream, with two men and
the clothing and guns of the men who were now tying the cable to
the stump. When midstream the rope slipped and the raft upset,
precipitating all in the water. The two men reached shore, but the
clothing of the men who had swum the river was lost. Other rafts were
on the way. Before Agonoy could rally the natives, a small force of
Americans had crossed over.

Then began an opera bouffe charge; naked and begrimed Americans and
men in khaki against naked and half-clothed representatives of a half
a dozen races! And as the Americans came on a run they broke into a
college yell:


                              Rock chalk,
                              Jay hawk,
                              Chicken hawk,
                              Tommy hawk,
                              K. U.!


There was a peculiar laughable twist on the "U." that added to the
grotesqueness of the incident.

By this time they were reinforced by a small body of men who had
crossed the bridge on the girders, and as these came up yelling
other college yells and firing as rapidly as possible, at nothing,
the Filipinos, in utter consternation, broke ranks and fled.

In the course of a few hours, however, Saguanaldo, who understood
the lay of the country thoroughly, had again brought his forces into
order and had forded the river a little lower down. He was now on
the side of the stream nearest Manila, while the Americans, after all
had crossed and they had leisurely partaken of dinner, were hunting
him further in the interior. It had been a bloodless battle, with
the victory apparently on one side and yet the advantage decidedly
on the side of the defeated.

After the troops had been collected Saguanaldo called Agonoy to him
and said:

"The honors of the first encounter belong to you. Name the reward
you desire."

"All I wish is to serve my country further," replied the youth with
another blush. "Permit me to go ahead to Manila and inform you how
to take the city."

"Another should accompany you, so that if something happens to one
the other may escape."

"Permit me to go to spy out the land," asked Bishop Aglipay.

"You, Bishop?"

"Yes. Let each go in his own way and alone. Then we can report and
will not be in collusion."

"Does that suit you, Señor Agonoy?"

"I shall be satisfied. If we can wreak vengeance on the bishop's
enemy, the Jesuit, I shall be repaid for all dangers and suffering
that may ensue."

"Then go, and success attend your efforts," returned Saguanaldo. And
he looked on the youth with searching eyes that for a third time
caused Agonoy to blush.







XV.

WORLD POLITICS.


"I'm going to invite Judge Daft to occupy this convento," suggested
Violeta to Bishop Lonzello, a few days after he arrived.

"You will do nothing of the kind," replied the bishop. "It is a
little too much, you coming here and ordering us from the islands;
but, as if this was not sufficient, now you want us to give up our
dormitories. I may yield the land for the good of the church, but I
am not going to stand this individual insult from a stranger."

"Oh, be reasonable," persuaded the Jesuit. "I am doing it solely for
your good. You will get the rental for it, and a republic is never
niggardly in such matters. The convento is really the only suitable
building in Manila for the purpose, and we can use the tender of
it in cementing a very valuable pact. Depend on it, you will lose
nothing by it. Another thing"--

"Nombre de Dios! Is there anything else?"

"Of course there is. We must syndicate the friar lands."

"I do not understand."

"If the United States undertakes to deal with the friars as
individuals, it will be able to handle them to its notion. But by
combining the 1,500 owners in a syndicate where half a dozen have
the full control of things, we can dictate terms. You can see the
advantage of this. It is the modern way of doing business. You managed
the seizure of the churches well; now you must organize the friars
for purpose of selling their lands advantageously."

The two priests discussed the matter further, and though Lonzello
was bitter against the Jesuit and in his heart resented the new order
that was being installed, he saw the force of the arguments, and ere
long started on a trip through Luzon for the purpose of organizing
the syndicate. During his absence the Jesuit took occasion to tender
the convento to Judge Daft and to point out its superiority for the
private uses of the new officials. The argument was valid, because the
convento was the best residence property in Manila. The Jesuit went
further and offered not only the church property in Manila, but also
in Malalos and throughout all the Philippines. Judge Daft argued with
his conscience, against his inclination to have the use of the best,
and ultimately accepted the offer. With the American governor housed
in the convento where the Jesuit lived, meetings became informal and
frequent. The two drove together in the evenings along the Plaza de
Gotta. They played golf together of afternoons. They met and talked
as friends; and the papal nuncio constantly and persistently employed
the power of suggestion for developing his plan.

"I do not think we can elect you president short of eight to twelve
years, but it will come some day," he told Daft while at golf. Small
business is transacted in the shops, larger in offices, and the
greatest business of the world is forwarded at social gatherings and
in games.

"I supposed I was to be elected next week," suggested the governor,
facetiously.

"No, the people of America will probably demand a military man
first. There is such a one who begins to loom up as a possibility, and
he understands the situation thoroughly. Besides, he is not so timid
as the present president. The latter means well, but he will not act
until he is pushed into action, while in adopting new policies, such
as are coming up now, we need a bold man. You want to keep your eye
on Colonel Rosefield. We have had our eyes on him and he understands
it. We mean to see that he has a military record manufactured for him,
so he can run for president. After him comes Judge Daft."

"You Jesuits are too deep politicians for me."

"You will at least admit we are not dreamers, Judge. I am in earnest in
what I say. No man in the service in Cuba has received the advertising
so far that this Colonel Rosefield has had, and there is a reason for
it. He will emerge from the war the central hero of it all, even if we
have to make him the winner of a battle where he was not present. More
history is made by well circulated reports than there is by deeds."

The Judge laughed: "I wonder if you intend to circulate reports
about me."

"That depends. If you do justice by us, we will see to the advertising,
all right."

"What do you mean by justice?"

"Well, the Holy See is doing you inestimable service in withdrawing the
Spanish friars from the Philippines, because it is thus removing the
very source of the quarrel and enabling you to gain a world reputation
by accomplishing within a few years that which the Spanish government
failed to accomplish in three centuries. That is a good start toward
the presidency."

"It seems you have tricked me into payment for that service, which
I freely acknowledge, because you have used the order that those
in possession of church property shall be maintained in possession
of that property to your advantage, by seizing on all the property
before the American troops arrived on the scene."

"A mere act of justice. That property belonged to the holy church
before the schism took it away, and we have merely done to the schism
what it first did to us. This is, therefore, a mere act of reparation;
but we are not ungrateful to you that you have made it possible."

The judge was secretly troubled at the part he had played. It was not
in accord with his conception of right. But he readily saw that it
was good politics, played for him by a power he did not understand. He
ventured to say:

"I wish to do exact justice by you, and no more."

"We shall ask no more. In a sense the church in general has had
reparation; but what about the friars?"

"I do not understand."

"His holiness, the Pope, can not banish them and thus leave the
field clear for you, unless they can be remunerated for the lands
they hold--not the churches, which belong to Rome, but the lands,
which belong to the friars. It is a matter of justice to pay them for
their property, and it would be of inestimable benefit to the United
States to get rid of this troublesome element."

"I understand the ground on which these churches were built belonged
to the Spanish government, and that the government contributed
considerable cash besides toward their erection. This being the case,
the churches will belong to the United States after we shall have
acquired the Philippines, and you would owe the federal government
for them."

"If the Spanish government gave the lands and donations to the church
they ceased to belong to Spain. You Americans would not claim again
land that had been patented to settlers. The churches belong to
Rome, where all titles to church property are vested. You will have
to settle with Rome for them. The land belongs to the friars, who,
as agents of Spain, developed the country and paid for the land. You
will have to settle with the friars for them if you would banish that
troublesome element."

"The Malalos convention declared them fortified to the Philippine
republic."

"Can you recognize that republic? You know you dare not do it."

Daft understood that; after a pause he inquired.

"What are the lands worth?"

"They have not been appraised, but I would estimate their value at
from twelve to fifteen millions of American money."

"It seems to me pretty high."

"On the contrary, it is reasonable, considering the cost it would be
to America to settle the trouble with the friars still here."

"It seems to me you are faring pretty well, considering that you have
restored to you the churches that were in revolt."

"You will win with the friars gone, but there are a number of things
that will have to be settled by arbitration after the war is over. You
must act as America's representative to the Pope."

Judge Daft started back in astonishment.

"It is impossible. It is against the policy of the United States to
recognize the temporal power of the Pope by sending an ambassador to
the Vatican."

"Nonsense. This war will make it necessary. You may disguise him
under the name of agent, if you will, but a representative will
become a necessity. It would be a big thing for you to be that
representative. You must have your picture taken with the Pope."

The boldness of the declaration again startled Judge Daft.

"You do not know the temper of the American people. They would not
stand for it."

"It would give you two million Catholic votes and make your election
as president an assured thing. It is big politics we are playing
these days, and you might as well be in on it as anyone."

"But can you make good?"

"Didn't your national chairman declare that the only power that
could save America from Socialism was the Catholic church? Did not
the Catholic vote go to your present national executive, for the
first time in history that the republican party got that vote? You
are asked only to follow the policy set by your party, and to reap
the result in honors and power. Why do you suppose the head of the
church deserted Spain in this war, when Spain is a Catholic country,
and has been on the side of the Protestant United States, if he did not
expect recognition of his services? Do you not suppose we understood
from the time the Maine was blown up that the people might be aroused
to start this war? The hierarchy is hereafter to be a dominating
power in America, and you are to be president. It is a big thought,
and you must think over it, Judge."

The Judge did think over it and the apostolic nuncio kept from his
presence several days in order to give him opportunity to ponder the
subject. When next the two men met the chastened attitude of Judge
Daft and his evident desire to be agreeable was to the discerning
Jesuit ample proof that the leaven was working.

"I do not know," he added to himself, "but that the fine, bold
material we are getting on our side may necessitate the removal of
the good-hearted old man who rules but fears to move. We dare not
wait too long when plans are ripe and boldness is necessary."







XVI.

THE SCHISM BURIED.


A few mornings after this the apostolic nuncio was walking along the
calzada by the coast, musing over his plans, when he chanced upon
three American soldiers with a Filipino prisoner. He was inclined to
pass on with only a cursory glance, but his ever-alert mind, always
spurred to observation, prompted to closer scrutiny. Then he saw that
the soldiers were drunk. This was not important in his eye, because,
under the canteen system inaugurated by the American government,
and the influence of the tropics working on the nerves of the boys
so far from home, and of the Filipino beverage, vino, drinking was
rather common with the soldiers. Indeed, the tropics were playing
havoc with the morals of the youth in khaki.

Kipling has thus expressed the languorous feeling that gets into the
bones in the tropics:


  Ship me somewhere east of Suez where the best is like the worst,
  Where there aren't no Ten Commandments, an a man can raise a thirst;
  For the temple-bells are callin' an' it's there that I would be--
  By the old Moulmein Pagoda, looking lazy at the sea--
      On the road to Mandalay,
      Where the old Flotilla lay,
      With our sick beneath the awnings when we went to Mandalay!
      Oh, the road to Mandalay,
      Where the flyin'-fishes play,
      An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the bay!
  When the mist was on the rice fields an' the sun was droppin' slow,
  She'd git 'er little banjo an she' sing 'Kulla-lo-lo!'
  With 'er arm upon my shoulder an' 'er cheek agin my cheek,
  We uster watch the steamers and the hathis pilin' teak.


Vino, that decoction from the cocoanut which in time crazes the
drinker and makes him run amuck, had been getting in its work on
the Americans, and they were more or less beside themselves even
now. Besides, insidious fever, the mali-mali, which weakens the will,
leaving the victim chiflado, ready to imitate the movements of any
who pass; the almost constant vibration of the soil that tells so on
American nerves; the absence from home and accountability to civilized
restraints; the enervating tropics that seemed to tingle in their veins
and vanish, make them devilish; and the daily sight of half-naked
women, whose ideals of morality were tropical rather than American,
were telling on the habits of many a homesick mother's boy. The
Philippines became a hot-bed in which erotic passions developed into
national scandals. The nuncio himself, with grim desire to strike at
the Americans when it profited his cause to do so, had procured the
licensing and inspection of bawds, under sanction of the American
governor, the fees for inspection going to church charities. So the
sights of drunken American soldiers did not even interest him.



But there was something about the prisoner that was striking. His
very bearing, his mannerism, his cut of tie and clothing proclaimed
him to be a priest. If he was a Roman priest, the nuncio felt he must
rescue him; if he was an Aglipayan priest, then he might gratify on
him the cruel desire to torment which is born in some and which he
had fostered by feeding. He determined to put the matter to an instant
test by a bold stroke. So he approached the prisoner, crossing himself
and saying:

"As I live, if this is not Dr. Maximo Voliva, born Aglipay."

It was a venture, but it struck home.

"And you are that devil, Violeta, who has robbed us already of our
churches. I am not pleased to form your acquaintance."

"Still reprobate and unregenerate, I see," returned the Jesuit. "At
one time we might have made terms with you, but that day is past. We
have the whip hand now and you are in our power. Man (speaking to a
soldier), run to the nearest house and borrow a couple of spades or
shovels, and be quick about it. Follow us down the beach."

The three men walked down the coast to a more secluded spot.

"What do you plan to do to me?" asked the erstwhile Maximo.

"It will be time to discuss that when we come to it. Do you wish to
return to the true church and receive absolution?"

"I am in the true church," replied Aglipay, hardly above a
whisper. "You will not murder me?"

"We do not murder snakes and vermin when we destroy them. And to think,
you used to be a priest in the one true church. You see now what your
ambition brought you to."

"Ambition!--I would talk about ambition if I were you. You, who have
mastered the poor Filipinos; you, who are planning for control of
America! Ambition--may God forgive you!"

"I am sorry I can not return the compliment of praying for your
forgiveness, but you are so unrepentant. However, I will hear your
confession if you wish."

"I will confess to God and not the devil."

"You might as well begin your confession then."

Aglipay paled. But he faced the nuncio and spoke in a calm voice:
"How can you profess religion, you who are so cruel, so ambitious, so
licentious? Do you really believe, or is it an open mockery with you?"

Violeta laughed.

"Yes," answered he, "there is a God, and truth, too, in religion. But
it is moral to rise to your full height, though you may trample others
as you rise; and though it seem a pity to devour the weaker creatures,
no one thinks about it. It is a part of feeding, and is right. We
eat a woman's flesh as 'twere a fowl's, and take a poor man's life
as though a bird's; that is, the great do, those with authority. It
is doing this that makes them great. Repression is but failure. Life
and success came from expression and experience. I am friendly with
you because we must part. Good-bye; Bishop."

He extended his hand, but the schismatist, pale and unable to more
than move mechanically, stared at him without offering his hand. The
nuncio laughed again, and carelessly said, "Oh, as you please."

By this time they were in a shady place, secure from observation
by a clump of trees, and the other soldier approached with a couple
of shovels.

"Scoop out a grave there, fellows," said the Jesuit. "You must not
take your prisoners to headquarters if you would avoid trouble. We
will have a bit of fun by and by."

The soldiers were sufficiently drunk to be irresponsible, and of a
temperament to receive suggestions. They obeyed the Jesuit without
demurring, while he taunted the renegade Romish priest, and then they
came to him to inform him that all was ready.

"Tie the prisoner," said the Jesuit.

They proceeded to pinion his legs and arms, and when this was done
the Jesuit continued:

"Now take him and throw him in the trench."

"Dios Mio! You surely will not bury me alive," plead the leader of the
schism, as they lifted him and deposited him in the rude and shallow
grave. For answer the Jesuit bade the soldiers seize the shovels and
fill up the sand over the body, leaving the head uncovered. Aglipay
begged and prayed, as shovelful after shovelful of sand fell upon
him, first rendering him powerless to move, and then bearing upon him
with a weight intolerable. His face was blanched, his eyes stood out,
bloodshot in horror. For answer to his pleading the Jesuit produced
a prayer book and began to read in mockery the service of the dead:

"From the pains of death, good Lord, deliver me." Aglipay gritted
his teeth, but his soul responded in a sincerer prayer than the
Jesuit uttered.

"From the pains of hell and the agony of the grave"--

"Good Lord, deliver me," plead the man in the grave.

"Silence the disturber of our devotions," commanded the Jesuit.

One of the soldiers lifted a shovelful of sand and threw it in the
face of the man man in the grave. Some grains entered his eyes, but
as he lay in agony, because gravel filled his mouth, he could only
groan and sputter without speaking.

"His mouth shall be filled with gravel," quoted the Jesuit, with
unfeeling sarcasm. "Fill in the grave, men."

The soldiers shoveled for a moment and the remains of Aglipay were
buried from sight, literally buried alive.







XVII.

"HE AIN'T NO FRIEND."


Of course, the death of Aglipay became noised abroad. Indeed,
the Jesuit took no pains to keep it from being known, because he
felt that the death of the leader would have an important effect in
ending the schism. The death was a matter susceptible of proof from
the fact that the body was found, but that he was buried alive could
not be proven save from the participants in the tragedy, who were
not required to testify against themselves. Rumors as to the horrors
of the fate of Dr. Obispo Maximo spread through Manila and Luzon,
and aroused the people to a high pitch of indignation. In a sense,
it was for the time beneficial to the revolt, because hundreds now
flocked to Saguanaldo, bringing their own weapons and ammunition, and
every region through which he passed was eager to feed the soldiery,
so that opposition to the friars gained strong headway again. It became
impossible for the Americans to ignore the matter. In order to appease
the inhabitants of Manila, the three soldiers were arrested and placed
on trial, before a court martial, for killing a prisoner. They were
found guilty and ordered shot.

It was then that Violeta appeared before Judge Daft.

"You must pardon these men," he said.

"Must is a strong word," returned the Judge, flushing.

"The reasons behind it are strong," continued the Jesuit. "The
deed they did, while irregular, has simplified matters amazingly,
by removing the head and cause of the schism, so that they did you
an inestimable service. You can not afford to show ingratitude toward
what they did."

"But it was murder."

"Manslaughter, perhaps. America is at war, not only with Spain,
but also with this schisms, and all war is manslaughter. Rainey's
victory was manslaughter. Manslaughter among soldiers is not a crime."

"It seems to me you assume a great deal in saying that we are at war
with this schism."

"You will be, which is the same thing. The Aglipayans over all the
archipelago are in arms."

"Yes, and this deed precipitated it."

"Precipitated it, perhaps; that does not mean that was the cause of
the revolt. It was bound to come anyhow, and the sooner it comes the
cheaper it will be for America; the quicker you win, the greater your
reputation will be. The United States could not occupy the archipelago
and leave the Philippine republic intact, you know that."

Judge Daft thought in silence, pacing the floor. Then, seating himself
at his desk, he wrote:


    "Commander of American Forces:

    "Sir: Manslaughter in war is not a crime, though, if irregular,
    may be an offense. You will place the slayers of Aglipay in the
    guard house until you judge they have learned the lesson and until
    discipline is conserved, then release them for service.--Benjamin
    Daft, Governor."


News of this transaction did not set well with the people of
Manila. There was an old song sung in the island, and that night
clumps of stragglers paraded the streets, noisily singing to that
tune the improvised words:


            He may be a brother of Governor Daft,
            But he ain't no friend of mine. [18]







XVIII.

THE WOMAN OF IT.


When news of the death of Aglipay reached her, near Manila, Hilario
Agonoy was awakened to sufficient interest to plan something for
herself. She straightway thought that if she could appear before
Judge Daft and plead against the Jesuit, even going so far as to
sacrifice herself by telling the whole story of Ambrosia Lonzello,
she might change the attitude of the United States and thus save the
day for the insurrectionists.

Within a few days, therefore, Hilario Agonoy disappeared. Ambrosia
Lonzello again appeared before her mother at the grass hut--her mother,
who has mourned the mysterious disappearance of Ambrosia--and made
herself known--telling the terrible story without concealment. The
mother was stricken with horror, and convinced her daughter that
she was in no way culpable. Woman's garments were again donned and
Ambrosia Lonzello prepared to appear, with her mother's consent,
before Governor Daft to tell her story.

It was somewhat discouraging to Ambrosia to find the Governor's
headquarters in the convento, and to be compelled to again visit the
scene of her agony and ruin. But she nerved herself for the ordeal. It
was her fortune to be admitted to Judge Daft's office, to find the
Jesuit with him. To her it was a surprise and shock. But perhaps it
was as well. Had he been there, had he seen her before she reached
the governor, she might have been locked up again, both to safeguard
himself and satisfy anew his lust. And, after the first shock of it
had passed, the sight of her despoiler revived all the strength within
her into anger and hatred, rendering her doubly powerful. Judge Daft
kindly asked:

"What can I do for you, my child?"

"Hear me," replied the girl, trembling from the intensity of her
feeling. "I come to ask for justice. That man (pointing to the Jesuit)
has wronged me. I came to the church to confess, and he by force took
me to the convento, where he locked and kept me all night, using me
as I can not tell, and making me, who trusted him as a man of God,
an outcast by his devil-deeds. I come to call justice and God's
vengeance upon him. But this is not all. He it is who persuaded
drunken soldiers to bury Bishop Aglipay alive--alive, mind you;
and as the poor man stifled in the sand, this fiend who poses as a
representative of God, mocked him by saying the burial service over
him. I come to call God's vengeance on him, and to ask for justice,
from you toward this enemy of mankind."

The girl was half hysterical, speaking in loud, impassioned
tones. Judge Daft sought to quiet her.

"Be seated, my dear young lady," he said. "These are grave charges
you make, and I shall look into them. But be calm, I fear in your
excitement you are exaggerating."

"Exaggerating! I could not if I had a thousand tongues, all eloquent,
tell half the wrongs I feel. I could not, even though educated as
you are and as he is, reveal a tenth of what I have suffered at
his hands. I beg of you, for humanity's sake, for the sake of your
daughter, if you have one, hear me and give me vengeance."

She fell on her knees before Judge Daft, who gently lifted her and
sat her in the chair. The Jesuit stood smiling and serene. The girl,
scarce knowing what she did, arose and screamed:

"You will not aid me. It is because you are as wax in the hands of
that devil, who by the hope of power and position for yourself moulds
you to his will. He induced you to pardon the murderers of Aglipay. He
persuaded you to have the army seize on our churches. He has you in
his house, directing you by flattery and making you a tyrant from
your very kindness. My curses on you both! How hard and bitter this
fierce world can be! It was my father, my own father, Judge Daft,
who delivered his daughter to this fiend. And this man, my father,
Bishop Lonzello, betrayed my mother when she was young, so that I
came into the world foredoomed to ruin and disgrace. And you, you,
Judge Daft, uphold this Jesuit in his villainy and plots and will
not hear my prayer."

The over-wrought girl sank in a heap on the floor, sobbing
bitterly. The noise of her last speech had brought several servants
on the scene. To them Judge Daft turned and compassionately said:

"Take her to a room, where she may rest."

"What! A room in this convento?" screamed the girl arising. "Back to
the scene of horror? I did not think this of you."

She was now attacking the servants with nails and fists, pressing
her way toward the door. She fought her way to the street, and then
ran at her fullest speed, away, anywhere, but away from the convento.

"Poor creature!" cried the Jesuit in tones of the deepest
commiseration. "I think there is nothing in all the world sadder than
the hallucinations of the insane."







XIX.

"WHEN DO YOU THINK OF LEAVING?"


"It was a most fortunate turn of affairs that led her to the extremes
she went," said the Jesuit, in reporting Ambrosia's visit to her
father. "Had she stopped short of where she did, an investigation
would have been ordered, I feel sure of that."

"I wish it had been," commented Lonzello. "You deserve punishment
for the wrong you did her."

"Don't be unreasonable," gently expostulated the Jesuit. "Her
accusation was against you also, and the same drag net that caught
me would have caught you, too."

The passionate Lonzello walked the floor nervously, cursing under
his breath.

"When do you think of leaving?" persisted the Jesuit, quietly.

"When you leave, beast," hissed the priest.

"No, you will have to leave soon. The people demand it, and your
successor is in the harbor. But I have other work to do."

"The mob will have you, too," returned the bishop.

"Oh, no. I am under the protection of my good humor, but you have no
such guardian. Have you much money?"

"You know I haven't anything."

"Would you like to know how you can get away full-handed, feared and
honored by all?"

"It wouldn't be bad."

"Well, I will tell you. That daughter of yours will tell her story
through town and she will be believed by hundreds there. The way to
silence these rumors, and to turn the tide toward us is to perform
a miracle."

"A miracle?"

"Yes, think of the honor of being Saint Lonzello, the miracle worker,
and having hundreds come to your shrine seeking the efficacy of your
sanctimonious bones! You may go from the archipelago honored and rich
and feared, or you may go from the end of a rope. Which shall it be?"

The two men drew chairs close together and talked earnestly in
low tones.







XX.

THE JUDGMENT.


A throng of the devout were gathered in Manila cathedral. To a pillar
near the pulpit Ambrosia Lonzello was chained. Neither she or the
audience knew, but wires connecting with the chains ran under the floor
to the pulpit, connecting them with a key on the floor. Underneath
it all was a powerful battery. It had all been arranged secretly, at
night, by the Jesuit, who was himself an expert electrician. Bishop
Lonzello occupied the pulpit.

"We have come to the test by ordeal," he told the people. "It grieves
me that any one of the flock should have gone astray, but when the one
who leaves the true fold is my own daughter I am doubly grieved. And,
as though it were not enough that she should desert the true church and
become a friend and companion of the enemy of the church and state,
she brings accusation against the priests of the Lord, against her
own father, and the apostolic nuncio. You have heard these charges,
for the unbelievers in the city take pleasure in rolling the scandal
under their tongues. It is beneath my dignity to deny, it is beneath
the dignity of the Pope's messenger to deny, such preposterous
things. We will call on the Almighty to decide between us. But first,
my daughter, let me beg of you, before we reach this supreme test,
recant and save yourself."

He turned toward the girl, who was chained to the stake. There were
tears in his eyes, and feeling was in his voice. It was evident he
sincerely hoped she would clear the situation by recanting.

"Ambrosia, save your father," he plead. "Say I did not do the awful
thing you charge."

"A father should not ask his daughter to perjure herself in the house
of the Lord. This is nearly as wicked as to send me to confession
in order I might in that holy place be made the victim of another's
lust. Priest--for you have been so unfatherly, I will not call you
father--you are guilty, and you know it."

As she spoke the people arose and stood, eager to catch each word. Now
that she was through they caught their breaths with a gasp that was
audible through all the edifice. The face of the man in the pulpit grew
white as his own surplice. His nails dug into the wood of the pulpit.

"Apply the test," said the Jesuit, arising and standing by the
other. Lonzello assayed to speak, but he could not articulate.

"Shall we call on God to decide between us?" asked the Jesuit of
the congregation.

"The test, the test," came from over all the house. Lonzello's face
grew haggard. Many of the congregation were surprised to see the man
before them was old, with face deeply wrinkled. But the Jesuit was
placid, fully in command of himself and of the situation. He raised
his hands toward heaven, and remained silent until the people grew
tense, waiting for what might come.

"Thou who didst destroy the guilty Jannes and Jambres in the
wilderness," he began impressively, "thou who didst reveal of old the
stealer of the golden wedge, judge now, oh, God, the truth between
us here. If thy servants are guilty of the things charged against us"--

He paused, not only that he might the more impress the people, but
also to place one arm about Lonzello that he might support him in
case his nerve should fail him and his limbs grow weak; then, with
the other hand spread upward, he continued, impressively:

"Strike us dead, oh, God, cause us to die at once."

Every person in the house was standing; every neck was craned; every
sound, even to the rustle of breathing, was stilled. A moment passed
in tense silence. Then the low voice of the Jesuit continued:

"The Almighty has spoken. We live."

The people breathed again, audibly. Lonzello, his strength partly
returned and his anxiety burning into his very bones, rushed from
the pulpit to the post where his daughter was chained, and, falling
on his knees, begged piteously:

"Confess, confess, Ambrosia, and end this horrible thing. The father
is on his knees to the daughter, begging you to recant."

"Confess!" cried the girl with scorn. "That is the word you used to
send me to slaughter, to be devoured by that beast. Sweet father,
you are, to ask a daughter to swear to a lie in order to shield the
man who wronged her. I know not what foul plot you have framed here,
but I do know in my soul of souls I am as white as dawn and that
your soul is black as night from which the dawn is born. As for that
creature in the robes of God, neighbors and friends, I say he is a
devil. His place is hell--however, not to rule, but to find torment,
now and everlasting."

The Jesuit flushed slightly, but his voice was unruffled as he asked:

"Friends, shall we call the test of God on her?"

"No, no!" Lonzello plead, rushing back to the pulpit, "not on her."

"A father may be pitied in pleading for a child," the Jesuit said,
quietly and without passion. "I would, if I could, spare him, and
her as well. Let me, for his sake, girl, ask you to speak the word
that shall save both. Recant, recant."

"Repent, repent," returned Ambrosia, facing him fiercely. "The crime
is on your head; the crime on me, the crime upon my father, the crime
which now I feel you mean to do, are all upon your head. Repent,
repent."

"The girl is obdurate," said the Jesuit, turning again to the
people. "In spite of vindication heaven sent, she has reiterated
accusations. Therefore, we shall be forced to call on heaven again
to choose between us. Shall we do so?"

"The test, the test!" cried the people in one voice.

Again the right hand of the Jesuit was raised, again the left stole
round Lonzello, gripping him as with a vice. His toe sought the hidden
key under the pulpit as he intoned:

"Choose now between us, which of us is right. If we are guilty, send
from heaven the fires and take our lives. If we have been maligned,
then let the fiery vengeance seize on the woman who has said the word
and prove to all the people that thou art a jealous God, watching
above thine own."

Even as he spoke, even as his hand was outstretched to heaven,
Ambrosia Lonzello straightened, then lunged forward, her hands and
limbs trembling and shaking; again and again, as the friar's toe
moved, the horrible contortions were repeated. As he completed his
prayer the girl hung limp and heavy on her chains, lifeless.

An instant more the audience was in a turmoil.

"A miracle, a miracle!" it cried.

Men and women rushed to the altar, crowding and kneeling, fumbling
their rosaries and praying. Lonzello sank into the chair at the side
of the altar. The Jesuit alone was calm and commanding.

"Yes," said he, "it is a miracle. The Lord has spoken. Strip your
fingers and ears and pockets of jewelry and money, and lay it before
him who doeth wonders in your sight. Woe to the man or woman who
refuses, woe upon the head of such!"

Men were groaning, women praying aloud. Money and jewelry were thrown
before the altar in profusion, until hundreds of dollars in value
were piled there. Then the audience was dismissed.

"Now," said the Jesuit, turning to Lonzello, "take this stuff and
get from the country at once. Your successor from America has arrived
and is in the harbor even now."







XXI.

"THE INSURRECTION IS OVER."


When Saguanaldo heard of the fate that had befallen Ambrosia he
was almost beside himself with rage and horror. He determined to be
revenged on the Jesuit and Lonzello, and issued orders for the force to
at once prepare for active service. Mrs. Rizal's singing and speaking
began to bear fruit. The story of Ambrosia spread rapidly through
the island, rousing the people to something like frenzy. They came
out in force. Not until now had that feeling which makes a religious
war been stirred, but it was rampant at this time. Even some of the
Spanish friars, who rebelled at being banished from the islands,
joined the revolt. The war had turned, so that it was no longer
Spaniard and native, but the native against both Spain and America.

They gathered in great numbers before Manila, coming in pairs and
squads. Some were captured, but the United States troops, appalled at
the demonstration that seemed to be even larger than it really was,
fell back into the city, while the insurgents formed on the hills
occupying the rifle pits without. It was raining and the mud was so
deep that all movements were slow and disagreeable. But the forboding
appearance of nature did not discourage the malcontents. Women and
children were there. Some of them were unarmed, but they gathered
stones for throwing and carried them. Others had nothing but clubs
or bolos. But they were all mad for slaughter, ready to die.

Contrary to expectations of the Americans, they did not attack by
night. Neither did they make any demonstration against the Spanish
fortress of Cavite. In the early morning women and children, ragged
and showing the poverty that had provoked the war, drenched by rain,
muddy and miserable, marched down the streets, in irregular lines,
shrieking and singing. As they marched, others came from the houses
of Manila and joined them. Again there was the song:


            He may be a brother of Governor Daft,
            But he ain't no friend of mine.


Instead of an army, it was a mob, something far harder to handle than
an army, especially if it is composed of women and children. They
broke into shops and took things to eat, munching and screaming as
they marched.

Then, while the American troops were besieged with the mob, Saguanaldo
attacked from the rear. As his troops charged on the American works,
women from the rear threw stones at the American soldiers. The first
line of defense was taken. Cavite was silent, having no part in this
battle, and it was well for America it was so; for had the attack
been more complicated, the issue might have been in doubt. Some said
it had been arranged so in advance. As it was, the American army
lay in the mud in its redoubts, with the rain drizzling on them,
and the little pools of water that formed were stained with blood.

Somehow Saguanaldo and an aide penetrated to the convento and appeared
unannounced before Judge Daft, dripping from the rain and sprinkled
with mud.

"Have a seat, General," said Judge Daft, affably. "You must be very
cold. I will order hot coffee brought."

"Thank you, but you need not," Saguanaldo replied. "I am here on a
mission of war, not of hospitality. You have wronged me, Governor,
grievously wronged me."

"War is not a pink tea affair," returned the Judge. "It can not be
prosecuted without individual harm being done."

"I do not refer to that," said the insurgent. "I shall not whimper
over hardships and private losses or wounds that come from war. But
you have wounded me in peace, while I was ally to you."

"I do not see that you are acting as an ally today."

"No, but I was when I went with the American troops to spy out and
defeat the Spaniards. And at the very hour when I was serving you,
and after I had voluntarily given you my office and surrendered the
Philippine republic that we might come under the protection of the
American republic, you set your soldiers to protecting the Spanish
friars, in possession of property which Spanish soldiers had seized
from us. Was that right?"

"It was a general order. Had the insurgents been in possession of the
property, they would have been protected in it. It is not my fault
if you were not able to hold this property."

"But you occupy the conventos, on invitation of the friars. It puts
you under obligation to them."

"I occupied the house you offered. Did that put me under obligation
to you?"

"Yes. But you now war those who were your allies."

"And you war those who were your allies. That makes us even."

"The man whose guest you are, murdered the leader of the schism,
cruelly, and you shield him. He betrayed the faith of the friar's
daughter"--

"After she had betrayed her faith"--

"On her father's solicitation"--

"So she said. Poor girl, she was evidently insane."

"And then horribly maltreated her. Later he burned her, as it were,
at the stake."

"My friend," said Judge Daft, amiably, "it is not a part of my duty
to quarrel, and I refuse to jower longer with you. If you want to
fight, go and join with those whose duty it is to fight. If you
have a personal grievance, bring civil suit, and I will hear your
cause. Before you go, I shall be pleased if you will permit me to
serve you something warm."

Saguanaldo was broken in spirit. He was again beaten in diplomacy. His
mission had failed, and, with quivering lip and voice shaking with
emotion, he said farewell, muffled himself in his great coat and took
his departure with his aide.

As he stepped on the street he was met by a detachment of soldiers,
sent out from the convento by the apostolic nuncio, and placed under
arrest. At the same time Violeta stepped before him and extended
his hand:

"General, I am glad to meet you."

Saguanaldo struck at him, but missed, because the soldiers restrained
him. The Jesuit very composedly said:

"Nothing is ever made, General, by being unpleasant. Take the prisoner
to American headquarters, and spread the report that the leader is
captured and the insurrection is over."







ANNOUNCEMENT

"Diaz, the Dictator"


In thanking all who by their advance subscriptions made possible
the publication of "The Friar's Daughter," I wish to announce the
preparation of another book, entitled "Diaz the Dictator." It will
be somewhat longer than this work, and will be even more dramatic,
fuller of action and intrigue, and will bring events practically to
the present.

The real story of Diaz has never been written understandingly. Why
and how he became a dictator; how the masses of the people of Mexico
were made peons; the motives behind his action; the development of
capitalism and the fall of feudalism in Mexico, have not yet been
touched on understandingly. They are told in the fascinating story
which I announce. The near relationship of the United States to Mexico
through it all is made clear.

Not many know that the French government, at the instance of the
Roman hierarchy, after the confiscation of the church lands in Mexico,
overthrew the republic in 1863, and established as a form of government
"a temperate and hereditary Catholic monarchy." Not many know that
Jaurez, the Mexican president who was forced from his position by a
foreign army, appealed to the United States for aid, but that this
country, being in the midst of a big war, was unable to lend him
succor. Not many know that just as soon as there was prospect of the
American armies being released from war, congress, on April 4th, 1864,
warned France that America would not, under the Monroe doctrine, permit
an European power to establish a monarchy on American soil. Not many
know that on February 9th, 1869, Abraham Lincoln issued an ultimatum
to France that she must either withdraw her troops from Mexico or
fight the United States--that France withdrew, and the monarchy
went to pieces. Not many have thought that the plotting against
Lincoln's life, by Catholics exclusively, began on March 6th, 1865,
and culminated on April 15th, 1865. All this time Diaz was fighting
with the Mexican patriots. Do you know what caused him to change?

These are only a few of the things brought out in the work. If
"The Friar's Daughter" is an eye-opener, then "Diaz the Dictator"
will prove the thunder clap.

Will you help to bring out this work, as you so generously helped with
"The Friar's Daughter"? If so, I ask you to fill out the enclosed
blank and mail it to me, WITHOUT SENDING MONEY. The prices will be
the same as with this work:

Ten copies, $3.00; 100 copies, $22.00; single copy, 40 cents.

Enclose in envelope and mail to me, and when the subscription reaches
1,000 work will be begun on printing "Diaz the Dictator."


                                           C. L. Phifer, Girard, Kansas.







NOTES


[1] Buenos dias--Good morning.

[2] Luz de mi vida--Light of my life.

[3] Te amo con todo el corazon--I love you with all my heart.

[4] Chuleta--Dear, well beloved.

[5] Eso fue en los dias antiguos--That was in the old days.

[6] Por Dios Donde se hallaria otro pas que has sufrido tanto--For
heaven's sake, there is not another country found that has suffered
so much.

For evidence as to the condition of the islands see Senate Document
No. 190 of the 56th Congress, sworn testimony of Ambrosia Flores,
Señor Constantine, Jose Tempto, Don Jose C. Mijares, Pedro Surano
Laktaw, Jose Roderigues Infante and others.

[7] Aling--Miss.

[8] This circular is a correct translation of a portion of a circular,
signed by a priest, that was distributed in Manila shortly after the
battle that gave America possession of the bay.

[9] Diablo--The devil. An exclamation or oath.

[10] Sin-verguenza--Sin without shame.

[11] The Latin quotations are from Liguori's instructions as to the
confessional, and are so suggestive that if rendered into English
they might exclude this book from the mails.

[12] Convento--Not a convent, but a priest's residence. The reason
given for American officers occupying conventos in the Philippines
was that they were the best buildings there.

[13] Mañana--Tomorrow.

[14] Sierras--Saw used in Spanish countries, hence toothed or
irregular.

[15] Trapiche--A cane mill.

[16] Haciendas--Large farms.

[17] Pueblos--Villages.

[18] A priest who said the burial service over a man who was buried
alive was really pardoned by the American governor and this song,
with change of name, was actually sung relative to the American head
of government.






End of Project Gutenberg's The Friar's Daughter, by Charles Lincoln Phifer