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"If you don't, I will order them not to lower the stone and then we will have to wait here till Judgment Day." So terrible a threat forced Ibarra to obey. He exchanged the small silver trowel for a larger iron one, which made some of the people smile. He advanced quietly and descended the stairs. Elias looked at him with an indescribable expression.
They will all give you bad, foolish and useless advice, but to consult does not mean to obey. Try to appear to be following their advice as far as possible and make them think you are working according to their wishes." Ibarra sat thinking for a moment and then replied: "The advice is good but difficult to follow. Could I not carry out my work without a shadow reflecting upon it?
Ibarra had not been mistaken about the occupant of the victoria, for it was indeed Padre Damaso, and he was on his way to the house which the youth had just left. "Where are you going?" asked the friar of Maria Clara and Aunt Isabel, who were about to enter a silver-mounted carriage. In the midst of his preoccupation Padre Damaso stroked the maiden's cheek lightly.
"Whom do you mean by them?" Ibarra asked in surprise. "Those who've just left to avoid contact with you." "Left to avoid contact with me?" "Yes, they say that you're excommunicated." "Excommunicated?" The astonished youth did not know what to say. He looked about him and saw that Maria Clara was hiding her face behind her fan. "But is it possible?" he exclaimed finally.
The lights in the house opposite were extinguished, the music and the noises ceased, but Ibarra still heard the anguished cry of his father calling upon his son in the hour of his death. Silence had now blown its hollow breath over the city, and all things seemed to sleep in the embrace of nothingness.
Ibarra offered another silver trowel to the curate, who, after fixing his eyes on him for a moment, descended slowly to the bottom of the excavation. When about half way down the stairs, he raised his eyes to look at the stone which hung suspended in the air by the powerful cables, but he only looked at it for a second and then descended.
The Dominican took off his gold-rimmed spectacles in order to examine the new arrival at better advantage, while Father Dámaso, turning pale at the sight, stared at the youth with eyes wide open. "I have the honor of presenting to you Don Crisostomo Ibarra, the son of my deceased friend," said Captain Tiago. "The young man has just arrived from Europe, and I have been to meet him."
"Señor Ibarra was mentioning those who had aided him in his philanthropic enterprise and was speaking of the architect when Your Reverence...." "Well, I don't understand architecture," interrupted Father Dámaso, "but architects and the dunces who go to them make me laugh! You have an example right here.
The yellowish individual, or rather his corpse, wrapped up in a mat, was in fact being carried to the town hall. Ibarra hurried home to change his clothes. "A bad beginning, huh!" commented old Tasio, as he moved away. Free Thought Ibarra was just putting the finishing touches to a change of clothing when a servant informed him that a countryman was asking for him.
Those who were kneeling broke off their prayers and followed the young man, their eyes full of curiosity. Ibarra walked along very carefully, and avoided stepping on the graves, which could be easily distinguished by the sunken ground. In other times he had walked over them; but to-day he respected them. His father lay in one of them.
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