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Updated: June 12, 2025
Young Ibarra is a youth of discernment; he doesn't seem to be a fool, but I believe that he is a good lad." "You believe so?" "Hostilities began last night." "Already? How?" Fray Sibyla then recounted briefly what had taken place between Padre Damaso and Ibarra.
"To tell the truth," observed Padre Sibyla, as if speaking only to Padre Irene, "he who wishes to teach, teaches everywhere, in the open air. Socrates taught in the public streets, Plato in the gardens of the Academy, even Christ among the mountains and lakes." "I've heard several complaints against this schoolmaster," said his Excellency, exchanging a glance with Simoun.
Padre Sibyla, who knew so well how to be silent, seemed also to be the only one who knew how to ask a question. "You're speaking of letters, Señor Guevara?" "I'm speaking of what was told me by his lawyer, who looked after the case with interest and zeal.
A very feeble old priest was seated in a large arm-chair. His complexion was as yellow as the saints which Revera paints; his eyes were sunk deep in their orbits, and his heavy eyebrows, which were nearly always knit in a frown, added to the brilliant glare of his death-foreboding eyes. "I have come to talk to you about the charge with which you have entrusted me," said Father Sibyla. "Ah, yes.
It was not two beautiful and well-gowned young women that attracted the attention of all, even including Fray Sibyla, nor was it his Excellency the Captain-General with his staff, that the lieutenant should start from his abstraction and take a couple of steps forward, or that Fray Damaso should look as if turned to stone; it was simply the original of the oil-painting leading by the hand a young man dressed in deep mourning.
"I am very sorry to have touched upon so delicate a subject," said Father Sibyla, "but, after all, if the change from one town to another was to your advantage " "How could it be to my advantage? How about all the things that I lost?" interrupted Father Dámaso, fairly boiling over with rage. "Good evening, gentlemen!
"No, that is all right as far as age goes, but, on the other hand you are the priest of this suburb," answered Father Dámaso in an insincere tone, without, however, leaving the chair. "As you order it, I obey," concluded Father Sibyla, making ready to sit down. "But I do not order it," protested the Franciscan, "I do not order it."
"We will see who will make the journey first," said a Franciscan. "I am going off now right away!" said Father Sibyla, with indignation. "And we are going back to our provinces, too," said the Augustins. They could not endure that through the fault of a Franciscan His Excellency had received them coldly. In the entrance hall they met Ibarra, their host only a few hours ago.
According to clerical opinion in the Philippines, the highest secular official is inferior to a friar-cook: cedant arma togae, said Cicero in the Senate cedant arma cottae, say the friars in the Philippines. But Fray Sibyla was a well-bred person, so he said, "Lieutenant, here we are in the world and not in the church. The seat of honor belongs to you."
No one dared to join in this diatribe. Don Custodio could discredit himself with his Excellency, if he wished, but neither Ben-Zayb, nor Padre Irene, nor Padre Salvi, nor the offended Padre Sibyla had any confidence in the discretion of the others. "The fact is that this man, being an American, thinks no doubt that we are dealing with the redskins. To talk of these matters on a steamer!
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