Title: THE CENTIPEDE Author: Rony V. Diaz is an award-winning Filipino writer.

He has won several Palanca Awards.He joined the paper in 2001 as executive director. He eventually became publisher and president of the Manila Times School of Journalism. He has taught English at U.P. Diliman and has worked for the Philippine government as a Foreign Service corp Born in Cabanatuan, Nueva Ecija but moved to Mindoro after the bombing of Clark Field. Character: Author – A boy who narrates the story and the main cast of the stories who love their Pets. Delia – Sister of the author who hate the Pets of his brother. Eddie - A man who help in their house. Berto - a man who gave the centipede. Biryuk – A pet dog of the author. Settings: In the house and in the ground. Plot: When he saw her sister beating his dog. • Few Imaginations During the time his father and the author hunted some animals in the forest. • When her sister told Eddie and Berto to kill his dog. • When the time Berto give the Centipede to the author. • When the time the author express his feeling to her sister. Climax: When the time the author express his feelings to her sister and her sister did not move, and she look his brother while crying and voice out all the bad things that can do her sister to his pets. Conflict: Man’s against Man -- That’s because there are a problem the author and his sister. Denouement: When the time Delia kill the centipede of the author, and the author express his feelings.

Summary: One day he saw her sister beating his dog. and he remembers the day when he and his dog become a friend. but the same time his centipede kill his sister. and Berto gave him a centipede. In other side he looks Berto in the ground. . but not only those things to do of her sister. also to destruct his pet like Butterfly and his father told him “why?”. but her sister did not answer.Moral lesson: Don’t make a thing that can affect the relation in your family. but that time the author has to express his feeling about her sister. Her sister told to Eddie and Berto to kill his dog.

Writer's Club in 1927 along with other student-writers such as Arturo Rotor and Jose Garcia Villa. Characters: Fabian: The older brother of Vidal and the husband of Tinay.[1] After finishing her secondary education in Manila. magna cum laude. • In the house the suffer is on the table. She graduated with a Bachelor of Sciences degree in education. Milia: In love with Vidal Francia: Relatives of Master. Plot: • In the farm where work Fabian and Vidal together with some other people. where she first gained notice for her short fiction. . but Vidal talk about a lady that he see in the farm. Master: The owner of one of the big farm in their place. because she attendant her baby.Title: HARVEST Author: Loreto Paras Sulit Paras-Sulit was born in Ermita. Settings: In the farm. • In that day the two brothers go back to the farm. While at the University. Vidal: The youngest brother of Fabian and have an interest of Francia. she co-founded the U. • During Fabian turn their house he found Vidal in Batalan and thinking some of the deferent happen in his life. and the house of the master. And Vidal got attract them. in 1930.P. • In the afternoon the two brothers go home and no exchange of words. • After a while Fabian go to master house to get the bill. and he make lies about Vidal in front of Francia. Manila. she entered the University of the Philippines. but Tinay could not eat. and at the place master will come together with the girl name Francia a beautiful lady. Tinay: The wife of Fabian. house of two brothers.

Moral Lesson: Don’t lose faith on your self and don’t compare your life into the other. After a while the Master’s come together with the lady name Francia. After that the two brothers walk to go home and did not exchange of word. . but Vidal found himself to talk about a lady that he see.Conflict: Man’s against nature – Because of the situation of the life of their family Fabian could not allowed to Vidal to go to Francia to become a servant. Vidal had always been afraid of his brother because he doesn’t appreciate beautiful things. Vidal the youngest brother he works very fast w/o pushing. Man’s against man – Because the two brothers have an argument. Summary: In the farm there are two brothers name Fabian and Vidal. and Vidal thinking some deferent memories in his life. Man’s against himself – Because Vidal cannot express his true feelings about Francia Denouement: When the time Fabian goes to the house of master’s and tell lies about Vidal on why he could not go with here. that’s because there life did not deserve to mingle the life of Francia. said Fabian and he made mention about Milia A lady that have like to Vidal. and Francia get the point of Fabian and she give a 20 peso bills to Fabian for their wok in the farm. At the morning deserving Vidal ask his brother to goes master’s house to work of francia But fabian is the one to go the house of master’s and he see Francia at that place. Harvest time has almost ended Vidal. And during the time Fabian retune to his house he found Vidal in Batalan and he give 20 peso bills. and he tells lies about Vidal. In their house Vidal had relaxed because he tired in that day. he could harvest in the field in the morning. and Francia said Vidal if he welling to work in their place.

My father pressed my shoulder and I stopped.” my father said grinning.” “May I keep him until his owner comes for him?” I pursued. I WAS thirteen when my father first took me hunting. Out in the sun. All through the summer of that year. Diaz WHEN I saw my sister. angry beast in my chest. “Eddie.” my father said.” she commanded. That dog belongs to somebody.” I said to the dog. “That’s good. a small dog yelping shrilly came tearing across the brooding plain of grass and small trees. the hair of my sister glinted like metal and. “May I keep him. So I held myself. they kept springing to the air and gliding away every time we were within range.” Father said. BIRYUK scampered off and my sister flung the stick at him. In the open. He circled around us until I snapped my fingers and then he came me.” she said coldly. and I felt hate rear and plunge in its cage of ribs. Father?” I said pointing to the dog. I fired and my body shook with the fierce momentary life of the rifle. “Here. “Can’t we throw a stone. “Not bad. blade-sharp reeds to flush snipes. The bird had fallen on a spot where the earth was worn bare. Slowly. The breast of one of the birds was torn. He knelt down and held my hand. I gave the birds to my father. “You’re keen. The saddle of the stock felt greasy on my cheek. The dog ambled after me. Then slowly. Then she turned about and she saw me. The shot did not scare the dog. “I shall return him when the owner comes to claim him. I saw three pigeons flutter in a last convulsive effort to stay afloat. she looked like a sheathed dagger. I spat and I saw the breeze bend the ragged. I approached with apprehension. in a half-crouch. Father looked at me a minute and then said: “Well. I’m not sure. mangled flesh clung to the palm of my hand. The breeze rose lightly. “It’s taking them a long time. I’ll .” Father remarked. My father stopped again. Father had told me that hunters always spat for luck before firing. sniffing cautiously.” Suddenly. My mouth was dry. the grass scuffed against my bare legs.” I offered him my bloody palm. I wanted to sit down. Come here. and its blood was spread like a tiny.” I went to the brush to get the birds. in her brown dress. I had tramped alone and unarmed the fields and forest around our farm. Beyond the ipil grove. “I hope that dog makes a hunter out of you. my throat swelled. then fall to the ground. Father was away most of the time but when he was home he hunted with us. I felt hate heave like a caged. He found the birds for me.” “All right. I pushed the safety lever of the rifle off and sighted along the barrel. He came to me and licked my palm clean. “Three birds with one tube.” Biryuk and I became fast friends.” he said. “You forgot to spit. she reached over and twisted my ear. I felt vaguely sick. we advanced. “He’d make a good pointer. “But I would not like my son to be accused of dog-stealing. you’ve to wait.” he whispered. come here. Biryuk hugged the earth and screamed but I could not bound forward nor cry out to my sister. He put the birds in a leather bag which he carried strapped around his waist. “I don’t want to see that dog again in the house. red rag. I picked up the birds and its warm. in a grass field we spotted a covey of brown pigeons. Delia. beating my dog with a stick. The gun was heavy and my arm muscles twitched. no!” I said quickly. The dog scraped the blood with his tongue.THE CENTIPEDE by Rony V.” “No.” “Oh. Every afternoon after school we went to the field to chase quails or to the bank of the river which was fenced by tall. It raced across the plain in long slewy swoops. “That dog destroyed my slippers again. He came to us.” I whispered fiercely. She had a weak heart and she must not be surprised. on outraged shanks that disappeared and flashed alternately in the light of the cloud-banked sun. Then one afternoon in late July my father told me I could use his shotgun. One of the birds whistled and the covey dispersed like seeds thrown in the wind. “Wait for the birds to rise and then fire. almost carefully. But finally they dropped to the ground inside a wedge of guava trees. glassy threads of spittle toward the birds.

But when I arrived home. I saw a . I screamed. He was splitting the wood he had stacked last year. she had gone. I realized that she was spiting me. She was eight when I was born. while she was brushing her teeth. I passed the woodshed. she denounced me in a high. My butterflies never snickered at her and they did not smell. I ran after him.” She clutched one side of my face with her hot. The stick of my sister had stabbed the eye of my dog. the sapling fell from her hand and quietly. Then I felt hate crouch. She seized one of the saplings that held up the hut and hit me again and again until the flesh of my back and thighs sang with pain. the doll looked incredibly heavy. I felt sick with a nameless pain. rattling the dead bush that sheltered him. splitting wood. from school. .For a long time I sat motionless. The eye had been pierced. it seemed. perversity and deceptive dullness of a sheathed knife. Nothing I did ever pleased her. I tumbled to the ground. quivered a wide lace of froth. frightened. I hid the leg under one of the banana pelts. Although we continued to live in the same house. She was not around so I went in. shriveled bush. But when she dumped my butterflies into a waste can and burned them in the backyard. she stiffened. A mound of bone-white slats was piled near his chopping block When he saw me. as though a sling were lowering her. the day my mother died. Biryuk. I wept and Father had to call my sister for an explanation. heat or concern: “They were attracting ants. I found him under a low. The flimsy wall collapsed over me. bugling his name. She was running and I knew she was furious. On my way back to the house. I picked it up. I sat on the ground and looked closer. yelped and fled. I heard my sister screaming. she moved and acted with the keen. The walls of the hut suddenly constricted me. I had passed that phase. concealing in her body that awful power for inspiring fear and pain and hate. wild voice and my body ached with fear. It was my sister’s playhouse and I remembered she told me to keep out of it. He brushed away the sweat and hair from his eyes and said to me: “I’ve got something for you. The interior of the hut was rife with the sour smell of damp dead grass. I took it as a process of adaptation. I tried to bend one of the legs and it snapped. Against the flowers. he stopped and called me. But I did not cry or protest. drawn tight over her teeth. defined by the sheath as her meanness was defined by her body. A doll was cradled in the box. One of my first solid memories was of standing before a grass hut. I stared with horror at the hollow tube that was the leg of the doll. His head was drenched with sweat. every word and gesture she hurled at me I caught and fed to my growing and restless hate. pale and quiet and mean. Then I saw that one of his eyes was bleeding. a step of adjustment.. The fresh banana hides were cold under my feet. I snatched and crushed every seed of anger she planted in me. it held itself for a minute and then it sprang and the door of the cage crashed open and hate clawed wildly my brain. She looked at me curiously but she did not say anything and Father began gently to question her. A large hawk wheeled gracefully above a group of birds. I ran to the house yelling for Father. but later on I realized that it had become a habit with her. She stood straight and calm before Father but my tear-logged eyes saw only her harsh and arrogant silhouette. She destroyed willfully anything I liked. I followed him. Berto went to a corner of the shed. one afternoon. to another country from where she looked at me with increasing annoyance and contempt.” I RAN after Biryuk. roughly. She listened politely and when Father had stopped talking. At first. she said without rush. unflexing limbs. My sister snatched the doll from me and when she saw the torn leg she gasped. I kept them in an unused cabinet in the living room and unless she opened the drawers. it bunched muscles tensed. not always with its drawn blade but only with its fearful shape. I did not say anything when she told Berto to kill my monkey because it snickered at her one morning. they were out of her sight. Now. Her eyes were wild as scud and on the edges of her lips. She came back from the hospital in the city. I did not run after him. It flew in a tightening spiral above the birds. I was stunned. its paws dug hard into the floor of its cage. of all emotions. I learned how to hold myself because I knew we had to put up with her whims to keep her calm and quiet. burned in their cotton beds like deckle. I found my butterflies in a can. moist hand and shoved me. He had fled to the brambles. Its dirt floor was covered with white banana stalks. drained. staring at Biryuk. Then I saw my sister coming. it seemed. It was slight but it had hard. I saw Berto in the shade of a tree. I called him and he only whimpered. she sank to the ground.” He dropped his ax and walked into the woodshed. And she knew too that my butterfly collection had grown with me. MY sister was the meanest creature I knew. She pushed me hard and I crashed against the wall of the hut. Then suddenly my sister moaned. I did not say anything when she told Father that she did not like my pigeon house because it stank and I had to give away my pigeons and Berto had to chop the house into kindling wood. and there was a small box filled with crushed and dismembered flowers in one corner.tell Berto to kill that dog if I see it around again.

My sister shrieked and the strip of white sheet flew off like an unhanded hawk. “Look. Who wouldn’t get shocked?” He bent and picked up a piece of wood. “It nearly bit me. “Did it. really?” I said trying to control my rising voice. was a big centipede. “Yes. She shot up from her chair.” he said. doubled up with pain The centipede had fallen to the floor. “I did not kill him because I knew you would like it.” he said. “But it’s dead!” I cried kneeling before her.” I said half-aloud.” Berto smiled happily. “You did it. “It’s dead! Look! Look!” I snatched up the centipede and crushed its head between my fingers. like this. And this centipede was coiled here. she sat facing the window She was embroidering a strip of white cloth. I wrapped it in a handkerchief. I approached. I unwrapped the centipede.” he said and put down the block.” Berto said.” “That’s bigger than the one you found last year. “I could carry it dead. I was engulfed by a sudden feeling of pity and guilt. What do you think you would feel?” I did not answer. You’ve health… life… you tried…” Her voice dragged off into a pain-stricken moan. isn’t it?” “Yes. “I found him under the stack I chopped.” I said. “It’s dead!” My sister did not move.” he said. I stood behind her chair. “That son of a devil nearly frightened me to death” I stiffened. Its pinchers slashed at the tiny spear. turned around and she saw me but she collapsed again to her chair clutching her breast. you’re right.jute sack spread on the ground. “You tried to kill me. . Right here. My sister was enthroned in a large chair in the porch of the house. The centipede did not move. Berto stopped and picked up the sack. a whitish liquid oozed out. he looked at me with his muddy eyes. “You know.” “Yes. “This wood was here. I picked up a sliver of wood and prodded the centipede. “I didn’t expect to find any centipede here. it’s very much bigger. Pinned to the ground by a piece of wood. It went through the flesh under the red armor. Its malignantly red body twitched back and forth. “It’s large. Her back was turned away from the door. She was not aware of my presence. I nearly touched it with my hand. I went near.” she gasped. I held the centipede before her like a hunter displaying the tail of a deer. It uncoiled viciously. Then I made sure it was dead by brushing its antennae. I threw it on her lap.” I stuck the sliver into the carapace of the centipede. “Then I picked it up. Berto was still grinning and I felt hot all over. Its antennae quivered searching the tense afternoon air. save that the centipede felt thorny in my hand. I squatted to look at the reptile.

and before he left home he used to strut about the town like a peacock. and most gamblers in our province had big houses and lived more luxuriously than those who worked hard for a living. talking to the people. I saw my uncle coming down the wooden ladder of his house with a flashlight in his hand.The Gift of My Father from the book. but could not because joy filled their throats. "Meet the people." He produced a beautifully wrapped bottle of Manila rum from the pocket of his coat. but I did know that the youngest had gone to America and was in business there as a building contractor. One day Father and I were coming home from a wedding when we saw many people in the year of my uncle Sergio's house. "Yes. My cousin Porton was standing smoking a cigar in the center of a ring of barefooted men and women. There were naked children on the floor. "I came to see your wife. "Sweetheard!" my cousin called in English. A young man snatched the cigar out of Porton's mouth and took a bite of it. and he kept flashing it at random against the house and among the coconut trees. Uncle Sergio's flashlight was new. "You are Uncle Simeon?" my cousin asked. Then my cousine approached the wonderful creature and put his arm around her slender waist. An old man rubbed his face against the soft fur of the coat. and was sweating profusely. I was six years old when the move took place. He stood in the yard. Father pushed the people away and stepped up to my cousin. who had all left the Philippines for other parts of the world by the time Father had moved Mother and us children from his farm on the island of Luzon into the town where Uncle Sergio lived. sweetheart?" my cousin asked. Simeon?" my uncle called in Ilocano. We stood under a tree." he said. "Is that you. chewing the tobacco with great satisfaction." he said. A big automobile was parked in the street and the house was bright with oil lamps and lanterns. sweetheart. Father and I jumped over the barbed-wire fence and pushed our way through a crowd of people in the yard. "Are you ready. Father grabbed it. as if he were enchanted by a marvelous new toy. The women and the young girls sighed. "Yes." Father said. The Laughter of My Father by Carlos Bulosan My uncle Sergio had three sons. "Did you bring home a wife?" Father asked. I did not know where my uncle Serigo's two older sons were living. the language of northern Luzon. "Welcome home!" he said. "It's the night of all nights!" my uncle shouted. although it was a hot night. He was a gambler by profession. She stood at the door and her black eyes beamed. watching. He was wearing a heavy fur overcoat. turning toward the little private room where my uncle kept his most precious belongings. "Yes. Wonder filled the house. in California." my uncle said. His name was Poltron and he was fair of complexion. sweetheart. . The men opened their mouths to say something. "I've something special for you. smelling and licking Porton's shoes. Then a girl grabbed the feather in Porton's hat and put it in her hair. which was a block away from our house. sweetheart!" The small door of the private room opened and a beautiful girl emerged from it. Suddenly he focused the beam on us. It was one of those dark Philippine nights. "My son Porton came home from America and brought a beautiful girl. We climbed the polished ladder of Uncle Sergio's house and rushed into the living room." answered a girl's voice.

reaching eagerly for Father's hand. They sat under the house with their dogs and talked among themselves. "I tell you she is americana!" Father said." My uncle Sergio killed three pigs the next day and asked the neighbors to attend a feast in honor of his won and the wife he brought home from America. shaking the girl's hand. They wore G-strings and carried bows and poisoned arrows. "I tell you she is americana. "I'm glad to meet you. Uncle Sergio's yard was full of people who had come from the villags to look at the fabulous girl from America." she sid. They brought many gifts and put them in the yard. "Your uncle says she is americana." "You are both wrong. sweetheart. "I like you very much." Just then my cousin Porton came over to the group." Father said." my cousin said." she said in Spanish. "This is my uncle Simeon." Father said. "But her skin is olive. "Sweetheart. revolution. He even collected the white juice of a calachuchi tree and smeared it on the dusty shoes to improve their appearance before he put them on. "Where are my cousins. Uncle Simeon?" Porton asked. The marvelous girl got up and laughed beautifully. Uncle Simeon. "I saw one likeher in Manila when I was fourteen. "My youngest cousin is here. Father sparkled with gladness." she said. "It's about your wife." my uncle said. I say she is espanola." Porton said to his wife. "Your youngest cousin is here." I said. sweetheart. There were three Igorots there. but the young men all stopped before they went out the door and looked back at the girl."I'm glad to meet you all. "Hellow. "Let's go outside now." my uncle said. isn't it?" Father asked. too. "Say 'Sweetheart. He went to our arm and came back to town with two sacks of fresh vegetables for the feast and a pair of old shoes he had used as a soldier during the . "She is española!" "Her hair is curly and light. The girl knelt on the floor and put her arms around me. Father and several men gathered under the granary to talk." she said.'" Father said to me. "Hello." he said." his father said." my cousin said. "What's all the argument about?" he asked. "She is mejicana. "Let's give the young couple some rest. looking toward my cousin's wife. pushing me forward." The crowd started to go. "No!" my uncle protested. "Good night. sweetheart. Father was enchanted by the girl." she said. headhunters from the mountains of Luzon.

Vidal thought of miracles. “He is your brother. this younger brother of his. your elder brother. soft as silk. you say. a very subtle fragrance. wind-swept look and stirring into little. his strange adorations. The palay stalks were taking on gold in the late afternoon sun. How stubborn. “Soon the planting season will be on us and we shall have need of many carabaos. young fool! With his queer dreams. it is my model! How are you.” The curiosity in her voice must be in her eyes. Vidal had taken off his wide. But he did not stop in work nor turn to look at her. He had never seen anyone like her. “From now on he must work for me every morning. The swing of Vidal’s figure was as graceful as the downward curve of the crescent-shaped scythe.HARVEST by Loreto Paras Sulit HE first saw her in his brother’s eyes. She was talking to Vidal about things he had no idea of. “Ah.” (I must be strong also. But when he stopped to heap up the fallen palay stalks he glanced at his brother as if to fathom the other’s state of mind in that one. sidelong glance. It affected Fabian very queerly. there was something terrible in the way he determined things. I wonder what can touch him. It is because he knows how very goodlooking he is. a woman… But no… he would overpower them…he was so strong with those arms of steel. without slowing in the rapidity of his strokes. and her perfume. The obstinate. how hard-headed. fumed Fabian as he felled stalk after stalk. the silken folds of her dress brushed against him slightly. Vidal. possibly all day. Why do you delay…” He stopped in surprise for his brother had sprung up so suddenly and from the look on his face it was as if a shining glory was smiling shyly. the other prayed). his wistfulness for a life not of these fields. things he wanted destroyed. but her widowed mother had some lands… he won and married Tinay. The rhythm of Fabian’s strokes was smooth and unbroken. he could harvest a field in a morning that would require three men to finish in a day. But there was . not of their quiet. Everything as you please. She was tall. how he always brought them to pass. and pale as though she had just recovered from a recent illness. He had always been afraid of this older brother of his. what Fabian had done to them. those huge arms of his that could throttle a spirited horse into obedience. how he disregarded the soft and the beautiful in his life and sometimes how he crushed. But that was the reason the master would not let him go. Vidal?” It was a voice too deep and throaty for a woman but beneath it one could detect a gentle. colorless women and the dullness of long nights of unbroken silence and sleep. birds of boyhood memories. Milia’s father has five. he could feel his muscles tensing as he waited for her to speak again. trampled people. crunch of footsteps on dried soil and Fabian sensed the presence of people behind him. He could not understand why the sound of her voice filled him with this resentment that was increasing with every passing minute. almost inaudible whispers. how he is so much run-after by all the women in town. There were flowers. perhaps as she spoke. So many palay stalks had to be harvested before sundown and there was no time to be lost in idle dallying.” “Very well. tremulously in that adoring way of his that called forth all the boyishness of his nature—There was the slow crunch. She was so near him that when she gestured. were losing their trampled. He wondered how his brother could work that fast all day without pausing to rest. She was not exactly very young nor very beautiful. was cool and scented in the air about him. But he would bend… he must bend… one of these days. perhaps a vision. Vidal? Oh.” So it was the master who was with her. buri hat and was twisting and untwisting it nervously. Vidal stopped in his work to wipe off the heavy sweat from his brow. with a regal unconscious assurance in her figure that she carried so well. “Harvest time is almost ended. You have but to ask her and Milia will accept you any time. smooth nuance. There was Tinay… she did not truly like him. “He has very splendid arms.” Then Fabian turned to look at her. insects.

I destroy it when I feel a hurt. They call her Miss Francia. On the batalan of his home.” It was merciful the darkness was up on the fields. He found himself talking about the woman who came to them this afternoon in the fields. in that mole just above her nether lips. One day Vidal came into the house with a message for the master. “Why are you that way?” “What is my way?” “That—that way of destroying things that are beautiful like moths… like…” “If the dust from the wings of a moth should get into your eyes. Sometimes she uses her fingers. For. After they had walked a distance. he saw her face clearly and understood his brother. Vidal asked. “Brother. The blood rushed hot to his very eyes and ears as he met her grave. slowly the topics converged into one. many desires come to me. many dreams.” “That is not the reason. of fluttering wing-dust. she was indeed beautiful. He emptied one on his feet. The light from the kerosene lamp within came in wisps into the batalan. But gradually. He rubbed them with a large. She approached him and examined his hot. One discovered it after a second. The moth fell to the ground. The two brothers returned to their work but to the very end of the day did not exchange a word. The stiffness. two tall clay jars were full of water. the brush of her dress against him and the look of her eyes on his arms. he cooled his warm face and bathed his arms in the other.something disquieting and haunting in the unsymmetry of her features. in her eyes. Vidal paused to pick it up.” and taking and leaning on the arm of the master she walked slowly away. He was just the model for a figure she was working on. If he had been in bed he would be tossing painfully. When one talks to her forever so long in the patio. She saw him. she had asked him to pose for her. But I know she has a lovely. When sundown came they stopped harvesting and started on their way home. A cousin. a mass of broken wings. It was queer how he kept on thinking about her.” “Things that are beautiful have a way of hurting. I am lost… I am glad to be lost. For in the deep darkness. the peace of the twilit landscape was maddening to Fabian. It augmented the spell of that woman that was still over him. feathery antennae quivering sensitively in the air. you would be blind. Then the whole plan of the brow and lip and eye was revealed. its long. She was a relative of the master. faint star. of stone. feverishly. sometimes a chisel. one realized that her pallor was the ivory-white of rice grain just husked. They walked with difficulty on the dried rice paddies till they reached the end of the rice fields. but before he could do so his brother had hit it with the bundle of palay stalks he carried. smooth pebble till they . that tinged her whole face with a strange loveliness. moist arms critically. careful glance.” To avoid the painful silence that would surely ensue Vidal talked on whatever subject entered his mind. Why was her face always before him as though it were always focused somewhere in the distance and he was forever walking up to it? A large moth with mottled. hidden name… like her beauty. highly colored wings fluttered blindly against the bough. that the sinuous folds of silken lines were but the undertones of the grace that flowed from her as she walked away from you. her loveliness is one I cannot understand. But it was cruel that the darkness was heavy and without end except where it reached the little. She is convalescing from a very serious illness she has had and to pass the time she makes men out of clay. “How splendid! How splendid!” she kept on murmuring. I think. Then “Thank you. searching look that swept him from head to foot. yes. Fabian could not see his brother’s face. in the queer reflection of the dark blue-blackness of her hair. Once Vidal attempted to whistle but gave it up after a few bars. on remembering the scent of her perfume. In the meager light he looked at his arms to discover where their splendor lay.

“She will pay me more than I can earn here. Everything seemed a dream. deep emotions. Ah. was in a corner playing siklot solemnly all by herself. let me see.” “I have no desire to marry her nor anybody else. a colored. Sometimes… well. who all had his face from the clay she worked on. “Why does she not braid her hair?” he asked his wife. That woman in the fields. As she threw a pebble into the air he caught it and would not give it up. This little room with all the people inside. His wife was crooning to the baby inside. bit. He turned almost savagely on his brother and spoke to break these two grotesque. Supper was already set on the table. There is Milia. For one thing he did not want repetitions of the carabao question with Milia to boot. “When I was your age. He started guiltily and entered the house. shaped.glowed warm and rich brown. what a high bridge. When Vidal. For another there was the glorious world and new life opened to him by his work in the master’s house. helpless moth. nervous woman still with the lingering prettiness of her youth. Let me see. She pinched. Vidal rose. she is going to be a proud lady… and what deep. that quiver would become a moth in his hands. white as rice grains just husked. dark eyes. Just—just—for five carabaos. the power beneath. dream bubbles of his life. Someday.” . and her nose. “What a very pretty woman Trining is going to be. Trining. the enchantment of hour after hour spent on the shadow-flecked ylang-ylang scented patio where she molded. Look at her skin. that was more than a gleam of a voice made weak by strong. I am going! I am going!” “And live the life of a—a servant?” “What of that? I shall be near her always. But he did not like the way his brother pursed his lips tightly That boded not defeat. Fury was a high flame in his heart… If that look. Oh. Vidal. broke out the news Fabian knew he had to act at once. And shall always be near her. she could not leave the baby. Vidal! Vidal!” Tinay rocked the child almost despairingly. faces. And he brought that look. his other child. Why. she said. it was not his child anyway. that quiver of voice had been a moth. reshaped many kinds of men. stretching himself luxuriously. In the evening after supper he stood by the window and told the tale of that day to a very quiet group. a girl of four. It is high time you should be settling down. one night. Peering between the bamboo slats of the floor he could see dark curls falling from a child’s head to the ground. past dream by now. She was a small.” There! He had spoken out at last. she wanted Vidal to go to the city with her. That means you are very talkative. that look. She was rocking a baby in a swing made of a blanket tied at both ends to ropes hanging from the ceiling. But the young man would not have stopped his teasing if Fabian had not called Trining to his side. He avoided his brother from that morning. On the door of the silid where he slept he paused to watch his little niece. What a relief it was. Tinay would not eat.” “We shall have to trim her head. this afternoon.” “You will wake up the baby. the fever she had left behind… was still on him.” Vidal bit his lips in anger. but she is so pretty with her curls free that way about her head. where she would finish the figures she was working on. I will do it before going out to work tomorrow. and help me get a position there. He retired to his room and fell in a deep sleep unbroken till after dawn when the sobs of a child awakened him. a large spreading dream. “Oh. His brother saw and understood. I was already married. you have a little mole on your lips. Gently he felt his own muscles. a frail. faces in a dream. The glamour. Miss Francia would leave within two days. shook his pants furiously while he laughed in great amusement. a curl on the dark head of his daughter… Now more than ever he was determined to have Milia in his home as his brother’s wife… that would come to pass. the strength. But the unrest.

“Soon all your sampaguitas and camias will be gone. There she was at work on a figure that represented a reaper who had paused to wipe off the heavy sweat from his brow. You see.” She said nothing.” He watched Fabian cleansing his face and arms and later wondered why it took his brother that long to wash his arms. Again—as it ever would be—the disquieting nature of her loveliness was on him so that all his body tensed and flexed as he gathered in at a glance all the marvel of her beauty. drink of her strange loveliness. patted it and molded the vein. She was one he had glimpsed and crushed all his life. but he succeeded in making her understand that Vidal could not possibly go with her.“Why do you wish to be near her?” “Why? Why? Oh. She smiled graciously at him while he made known himself. he did not expect she would remember him. But the song of loveliness had haunted his life thereafter. It said.” He had not forgotten to roll up his sleeves. my God! Why?” That sentence rang and resounded and vibrated in Fabian’s ears during the days that followed. But what had she to know? A pang without a voice. Fabian. a dream without a plan… how could they be understood in words. He had seen her closely only once and only glimpses thereafter. the shining glory in moth and flower and eyes he had never understood because it hurt with its unearthly radiance. gave him a twenty-peso bill and some instruction. Now they were alone again. The haggard tired look in his young eyes was as grey as the skies above. “Ah. is he at your house?” The brother on the patio nodded. He shall not go with me. Wrapped in that silver-grey dusk of early night and silence she appeared in her true light to the man who watched her every movement. the man with the splendid arms. After this afternoon he would never see her. “I have to finish this statue before I leave.” “I am the brother of Vidal. it was not so. arm. the strength. she would never know. I know. “Your brother should never know you have told me the real reason why he should not go with me. It was Vidal in stone. There was an amusement rippling beneath her tones. The arms are still incomplete—would it be too much to ask you to pose for just a little while?” While she smoothed the clay. There will be a child. “To marry the girl whose father has five carabaos. it seemed as if life left him. could be Vidal and… and… how one’s thoughts can make one forget of the world. muscle. If he could have the whole of her in the cup of his hands. Vidal told me about it. even to his eyes he felt the hot blood flow. “That is the only reason to cover up something that would not be known.” She called a servant. “I understand. She was lost in her work and noticed neither the twilight stealing into the patio nor the silence brooding over them. why he was rubbing them as hard as that… . He was speaking to Tinay jokingly. My brother has wronged this girl. “Vidal. left his arms that were being copied. But she merely answered. of his arms to give to this lifeless statue. that he had to stay behind in the fields. but the look in her face protested against what she had heard. It would hurt him. stole the firmness.” He flushed again a painful brick-red. my dear sister-in-law because I shall be seeing Milia every night… and her father. He did not know how he worded his thoughts. If by a magic transfusing he. forgetful of this unrest he called life. if… but his arms had already found their duplicate in the white clay beyond… When Fabian returned Vidal was at the batalan brooding over a crumpled twenty-peso bill in his hands.

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