That was the decisive stroke.  In the face of that reproach, with wrath and desperation mingled, like one who rushes to suicide, Juli closed her eyes in order not to see the abyss into which she was hurling herself and resolutely entered the convento.  A sigh that sounded like the rattle of death escaped from her lips.  Sister Bali followed, telling her how to act.

That night comments were mysteriously whispered about certain events which had occurred that afternoon.  A girl had leaped from a window of the convento, falling upon some stones and killing herself.  Almost at the same time another woman had rushed out of the convento to run through the streets shouting and screaming like a lunatic.  The prudent townsfolk dared not utter any names and many mothers pinched their daughters for letting slip expressions that might compromise them.

Later, very much later, at twilight, an old man came from a village and stood calling at the door of the convento, which was closed and guarded by sacristans.  The old man beat the door with his fists and with his head, while he littered cries stifled and inarticulate, like those of a dumb person, until he was at length driven away by blows and shoves.  Then he made his way to the gobernadorcillo’s house, but was told that the gobernadorcillo was not there, he was at the convento; he went to the Justice of the Peace, but neither was the Justice of the Peace at home—­he had been summoned to the convento; he went to the teniente-mayor, but he too was at the convento; he directed his steps to the barracks, but the lieutenant of the Civil Guard was at the convento.  The old man then returned to his village, weeping like a child.  His wails were heard in the middle of the night, causing men to bite their lips and women to clasp their hands, while the dogs slunk fearfully back into the houses with their tails between their legs.

“Ah, God, God!” said a poor woman, lean from fasting, “in Thy presence there is no rich, no poor, no white, no black—­Thou wilt grant us justice!”

“Yes,” rejoined her husband, “just so that God they preach is not a pure invention, a fraud!  They themselves are the first not to believe in Him.”

At eight o’clock in the evening it was rumored that more than seven friars, proceeding from neighboring towns, were assembled in the convento to hold a conference.  On the following day, Tandang Selo disappeared forever from the village, carrying with him his hunting-spear.

CHAPTER XXXI

THE HIGH OFFICIAL

    L’Espagne et sa, vertu, l’Espagne et sa grandeur
    Tout s’en va!—­Victor Hugo