Chapter 4: - Page 2 of 5

My father—in prison—confined in a prison? What are you talking about? Do you know who my father was? Are you—? demanded the young man, seizing the officer’s arm.

I rather think that I’m not mistaken.  He was Don Rafael Ibarra.

Yes, Don Rafael Ibarra, echoed the youth weakly.

Well, I thought you knew about it, muttered the soldier in a tone of compassion as he saw what was passing in Ibarra’s mind.  I supposed that you—but be brave! Here one cannot be honest and keep out of jail.

I must believe that you are not joking with me, replied Ibarra in a weak voice, after a few moments’ silence.  Can you tell me why he was in prison?

The old man seemed to be perplexed.  It’s strange to me that your family affairs were not made known to you.

His last letter, a year ago, said that I should not be uneasy if he did not write, as he was very busy.  He charged me to continue my studies and—sent me his blessing.

Then he wrote that letter to you just before he died.  It will soon be a year since we buried him.

But why was my father a prisoner?

For a very honorable reason.  But come with me to the barracks and I’ll tell you as we go along.  Take my arm.

They moved along for some time in silence.  The elder seemed to be in deep thought and to be seeking inspiration from his goatee, which he stroked continually.

As you well know, he began, your father was the richest man in the province, and while many loved and respected him, there were also some who envied and hated him.  We Spaniards who come to the Philippines are unfortunately not all we ought to be.  I say this as much on account of one of your ancestors as on account of your father’s enemies.  The continual changes, the corruption in the higher circles, the favoritism, the low cost and the shortness of the journey, are to blame for it all.  The worst characters of the Peninsula come here, and even if a good man does come, the country soon ruins him.  So it was that your father had a number of enemies among the curates and other Spaniards.