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"You don't know what you throw out nor what you swallow. Dig! dig!" At this the old man, who was Tasio, the village philosopher, turned and started toward the gate. In the meantime, the grave-digger had finished his job, and two little mounds of fresh, red clay were piled on either side of the grave.
He went up the stairs and, as the door was open, walked in. An old man leaned over a book in which he seemed to be writing. On the walls of the room were collections of insects and leaves, maps, and some shelves of books and manuscripts. Tasio was so absorbed in his work that he did not notice the arrival of the youth.
She had bought some small fishes, picked the most beautiful tomatoes in her little garden, as she knew that Crispin was very fond of them, and begged from a neighbor, old Tasio the Sage, who lived half a mile away, some slices of dried wild boar's meat and a leg of wild duck, which Basilio especially liked.
On seeing him, you would say that the cousin of Our Saviour did not enjoy any great renown among these people. He had slender feet and legs and the face of a hermit, and was carried along on an old wooden litter. In marked contrast to the representation of San Juan, was that of San Francisco, the founder of the great order. The latter was drawn in a car, and, as Tasio said: "What a car!
Tasio, the Sage, who was walking about there thoughtfully, murmured: "Perchance some day when this edifice, which is today begun, has grown old and after many vicissitudes has fallen into ruins, either from the visitations of Nature or the destructive hand of man, and above the ruins grow the ivy and the moss, then when Time has destroyed the moss and ivy, and scattered the ashes of the ruins themselves to the winds, wiping from the pages of History the recollection of it and of those who destroyed it, long since lost from the memory of man: perchance when the races have been buried in their mantle of earth or have disappeared, only by accident the pick of some miner striking a spark from this rock will dig up mysteries and enigmas from the depths of the soil.
Now he had neither fatherland, home, love, friends or future. From a height a man contemplated the funeral-like caravan. He was old, pale, thin, wrapped in a woollen blanket and was leaning with fatigue on a cane. It was old Tasio, who as soon as he heard of what had happened wanted to leave his bed and attend, but his strength would not permit it.
Ibarra turned to the schoolmaster and asked him, "Is there anything that I can do for you at the capital of the province? I leave for there immediately." "Have you some business there?" "We have business there!" answered Ibarra mysteriously. On the way home, when Don Filipo was cursing his bad luck, old Tasio said to him: "The blame is ours!
But let us leave the suffering souls and listen to the conversation between Don Filipo and old Tasio in the lonely home of the latter. The Sage, or Lunatic, was sick, having been for days unable to leave his bed, prostrated by a malady that was rapidly growing worse. "Really, I don't know whether to congratulate you or not that your resignation has been accepted.
Old Tasio says that Crispin has a good head and so we'll send him to Manila to study. I'll support him by working hard. Isn't that fine, mother? Perhaps he'll be a doctor, what do you say?" "What can I say but yes?" said Sisa as she embraced her son. She noted, however, that in their future the boy took no account of his father, and shed silent tears.
Following the priests were a number of the townsmen who make it their business to escort the friars. "May God reward them also in the next life," muttered old Tasio as he went away. The play began with Chananay and Marianito in Crispino é la comare.
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