“Florante at Laura” by: Francisco Balagta

Popularly known as: Francisco Baltazar

Major characters: Mother of Florante; wife of Duke Briseo,

 Florante princess of Croton
Son of Duke Briseo and Princess Floresca; the  King Linceo
main character of the SONG; Laura's love King of Albania; father of Laura
 Laura  Antenor
Daughter of King Liceo; Florante's love Florante's reliable mentor while he was
 Aladin studying in Athens, Greece
A Muslim prince and soldier; son of Sultan Ali-Adab;  Count Sileno
the man who saved Florante; Flerida's love Count Adolfo's father; also from Albania
 Flerida  General Miramolin
The woman who saved Laura; Aladin’s love Headed the Persian troupes towards invading
 Count Adolfo Albania
A traitor; son of Count Sileno; very envious of  General Osmalic
Florante's achievement A Persian general who wanted to invade
 Menandro Kroton
Florante's classmate and faithful best friend;  Sultan Ali-Adab
Florante’s right hand in the battle King of Persia; father of Aladin; who also
desired Aladin’s love of his life, Flerida
Minor characters:  Menalipo
 Duke Briseo Florante's cousin who saved him from a vulture
Father of Florante; Princess Floresca's that almost snatched him from his cradle
husband; King Linceo’s adviser  King of Croton kingdom
Princess Floresca’s father and the grandfather
of Florante
 Princess Floresca

The Summary of “Florante at Laura”

The story begins with a description of a dark, dangerous, deserted forest in the kingdom of Albania, that is
inhabited by serpents, basilisks, hyenas, and tigers.  Deep in the heart of the depressing jungle where the tangled
growth of vines and thickets intertwined, and the great canopy of heavy foliaged trees formed a roof over the
dismal jungle clearing, the moans and anguished cries of a forsaken man filled the savage stillness of the air.  The
man is tied to a tree and is barely alive.  He is Florante, the son of Duke Briseo and Princess Floresca.  He has
blonde hair, fair smooth skin, and a face and body that is comparable to that of Narcissus and Adonis. Florante,
while tied to a tree, questions the heavens for the suffering of the people of Albania.  Here he describes the
treachery and suffering that are happening inside and outside of the kingdom of Albania.  Gone are the days of
peace and and justice.  Innocent people have become victims of those who are hungry for power and money.
Those who fought to save the kingdom have suffered grievously.   He mentions that Count Adolfo was said to be
behind the treachery with his plot to steal the crown from King Linceo and the wealth of Duke Briseo.  Florante
begs heaven to save the kingdom of Albania. The man tells the heavens that he can take whatever trial or
challenge that may come his way as long as Laura will always remember him.  Aside from all that is happening
to Albania, he takes refuge in the memories of the times he shared with Laura.  He mentions that he would be
pleased to see Laura crying over his dead body if Laura would betray him.  With this, he imagines Laura in the
arms of Count Adolfo. This thought brings him to tears and devastation which made him tired and cause him to
pass out.The man cries for Laura to save him, but she does not come.  With this, the man thinks that Count Adolfo
has finally stolen Laura from him. He mentions that he will thank Count Adolfo for all the hardship as long as he
doesn't take Laura from him.  With too much to bear, the man cries in despair and faintes.
In another part of the forest comes Aladin, a Muslim soldier.  He sits on a stump and professes his love for a
woman named Flerida.  He talks about his overwhelming love for Flerida and vows to kill for the sake of love.  He
says that no one can stand in his way nor is there anyone who can take his love from him, not even his father.  He
also says that love can make a person blind to the truth and make him forget about reason and honor. After
professing his love for Flerida, the Muslim soldier hears a voice in the forest.  This voice talks about
the brutaldeath of his loving father.  The man talks about how his father was beheaded and had his body thrown
somewhere else.  No one attempted to bury his father's remains for fear of Count Adolfo's wrath.   Even without
seeing his father, the man knew that the old man was thinking of him until the end of his life.
While tied to a tree, Florante was approached by two lingering lions.  But the lions did not seem to attack,
thinking that the man might already be dead.  Realizing the approach of death, the man says
his farewell to Albania, the land he wished to serve since he was a child, and to Laura, whom he will forever love.
Upon hearing the man's cries, Aladin set off to find the man.  His timing was impeccable because the lions were
about to attack Florante.  With a swift motion of his weapon, the Muslim soldier killed the two lions.  With his
courage and precision in combat, he was compared to Ares, the god of war.After rescuing Florante, Aladin frees
him and lays him down.  Florante wakes up delirious looking for Laura.  The Muslim soldier does not respond and
Florante goes back to sleep.   When he finally wakes up, Florante is surprised to see an enemy taking care of him.
Aladin told him that he wishes the man no harm and that the command of heaven to help is what's important.  The
man said that he did not want the soldier's pity, what he needs is death.   Aladin yelled at him for speaking such
nonsense.
Due to all that they have been through recently, Aladin and Florante decide to become silent.  When nightfall
comes, Aladin carried Florante and rests on a flat rock.  The Muslim soldier feeds Florante and has him sleep on
his lap.  He watches over Florante because he is still delirious and he is devastated every time the latter wakes
up.  In the morning, Florante thanks Aladin for what he has done for him.  The soldier asked Florante why he was
so devastated, and the latter willingly narrated his story.The man tells the Muslim soldier that his name is Florante.
Florante tells him that he came from Albania and that he is the son of Duke Briseus, second in command of the
kingdom, and Princess Floresca of Croton.  He proudly talksabout his father saying what a brave and kind man he
was.  He also emphasizes that there is no one who can outdo his father in loving a child and in teaching him good
manners.  Florante also spoke of two accounts when he almost died as a child.  One was when he was almost
caught by a vulture but was rescued by his cousin Menalipo.  The other was when someone attempted to take the
diamond that was on his chest.
Florante spoke about his happy childhood.  When he was a child, he loved playing outdoors and hunting. He
realized that a child must not be raised with too much freedom and security because life is tougher when one
grows older.  He also says that a child will have difficulty in facing challenges if he is too pampered and safe as a
child.  Duke Briseus taught him how to stand alone by sending him to Athens to study under Antenor. Florante
studies in Athens under Antenor.   He becomes homesick and longs to be with his parents again but he is
comforted by Antenor.  Adolfo, a boy from Albania and the son of Duke Sileno, becomes his classmate.  Adolfo is
two years older than him and is admired by everyone in school for his wisdom and kindness.  Due to his
intelligence, Florante was able to learn the lessons about philosophy, astrology and mathematics in no time at all
which astonished his teachers.  He even surpassed Adolfo in all aspect and became known all across Athens.
Everyone distrusted the kindness that Adolfo is showing.  In a sporting competition, Adolfo's true color began to
show which aroused the people's suspicions.
During a play performed by the students, Adolfo attempted to kill Florante but did not succeed due to his
classmate Menandro's interference.  After two months, Florante received a letter from his father bringing bad news
and summoning him to come home.  It was difficult for Florante to say his goodbyes to his classmates and his
mentor, Antenor.  Before leaving, Antenor advised Florante not to be too trusting because there are enemies all
around us.   Florante went home with his friend, Menandro. Upon arriving at Albania, Florante cried when he saw
his father.  After he calmed down, Duke Briseus told Florante about the death of Princess Floresca.The emissary
of Croton came to Albania with a letter asking for help in saving Croton from the Persian invaders headed by
General Osmalic.  Florante pauses to praise Aladin, saying that the general is only second to Aladin
in combat skill.  With this, Aladin smiles and says that rumors are not necessarily true. Returning to his story,
Florante said that he and his father went to King Linceus to discuss how they could help Croton.  King Linceus
appointed Florante to lead the army that will help save Croton.
During their visit to King Linceus, Florante saw Laura, the daughter of the king.  He was mermerized by
Laura's beauty.  He became speechless and stuttered a lot in the presence of Laura.  After talking about Laura,
Florante's mind drifts toward horrible thoughts about Laura's unfaithfulness.Before setting off to war, King Linceus
threw a feast for Florante.  The celebration lasted for three days and within this period, he did not get to see Laura.
The day before he set of to war, Florante saw Laura and he professed his love.  Laura did not give him a straight
answer, instead she cried and Florante took this as a sign of Laura's reciprocation of his feelings.General Osmalic
and Florante finally meet and they battled for five hours until Florante was able to defeat the general. Florante was
able to save Croton from the hands of the enemy with the help of Menandro and his troupes.  The people rejoiced
their victory especially when they learned that Florante is the king's grandson.  But Florante and the king did not
rejoice with them for they remembered Princess Floresca and mourned for her death.  Five months had passed
when Florante decided to return to Albania to be with Laura again.  On his journey back, Florante became weary
when he saw the Muslim flag swaying in Albania. Florante hid on the outskirts at the foot of the mountain to
observe what is happening.  He saw a woman tied and blindfolded who is about to be beheaded.  He remembered
Laura and hastily went to rescue the woman.  He fought the Muslims and rescued the woman who happened to
be Laura herself.  Laura told Florante about that Albania had been conquered.  They went back and redeemed the
country from the invaders.  Florante freed the captives including King Linceus, Duke Briseus, and Count Adolfo.
The king honored Florante for his bravery and Florante won Laura's affection.  With the victory of Florante,
Adolfo's hatred and envy deepened and he planned to take revenge against Florante.
A few months have passed since Albania was last invaded when the Persian army, headed by Miramolin
disturbed its peace.  But the Turkish invaders did not succeed because Florante had defeated him.  After this,
Florante successfully won many battles which earned him the respect of thirteen kings.  One day, while Florante
was in the middle of a war, he received a letter ordering him to return immediately to  Albania.  He left the war
under the command of Menandro and set off to return to Albania.  Upon arriving, he was surprised to be
welcomed by 30,000 soldiers who abducted him.  Here he learned that Adolfo had ordered for his father, Duke
Briseus, and King Linceus to be beheaded.  He also learned that Laura was engaged to Count Adolfo.  Florante
was imprisoned for 18 days then was transferred to the forest where he was tied to an Acacia tree.  He had been
in the forest for two days when the Muslim soldier found and rescued him.
After Florante narrated his story, the Muslim soldier introduces himself as Aladdin, son of Sultan Ali-Adab of
Persia.  Aladdin tells Florante that he will tell his own story in due time because he needs some time to collect
himself. After wandering around the forest for five months, Aladin begins to narrate his story.  He says that his
father is the root of all his suffering.  His father became his rival for his love, Flerida.  In order to succeed, Sultan
Ali-Adab plotted a scheme to behead Aladin by framing him as the cause of the downfall of the Persian invaders
that resulted to Florante's victory in Albania.  On the night before Aladin's execution, Sultan Ali-Adab forgave
Aladin on the condition that he would flee Persia and never return.  Aladin agreed but could not accept the idea of
Flerida in the arms of another man.  Since then, Aladin has been a wanderer of the forest for six years.  He
suddenly stops his story when they heard voices in the forest.
The two men heard voices.  One of the women narrated the story she heard about the danger that her lover
was in.  She begged the Sultan not to push through with his beheading in exchange for her agreement to marry
him.  The Sultan agreed and her lover was set free, leaving without saying goodbye.  One night, while everyone
was busy with the wedding preparations, the woman who happens to be Flerida, disguised herself as a soldier
and escaped.  She wandered the forest hoping to find her love. Here in the forest is where the two women met
when Flerida saved Laura who was about to be assaulted by a man.  They stop talking when they hear footsteps
approaching and were surprised to see Florante and Aladdin.
Laura narrates her story.  It began when Florante left to battle the Persian invaders.  Adolfo ordered that the
king and his loyal servants be beheaded.  Adolfo took over the throne and forced Laura to marry him.  It took five
months for him to court Laura but she did not waver in her decision not to marry him. After Florante was sent to
die in the forest, Menandro and his men returned to Albania and overthrew Adolfo from the throne.  Adolfo would
not accept defeat; instead he took Laura and his men to the forest.  Here Adolfo saw no escape and decided to
rape Laura right there.  Upon hearing a woman's cry for help, Flerida came to the rescue and killed Adolfo with an
arrow.
Their conversation is interrupted by the arrival of Menandro and his troupe.  Upon seeing Florante, he
rejoices to see his friend. The two couples return to Albania where they are warmly welcomed.  Flerida and
Aladdin agree to be baptized as Christians.  Both couples are wed and Florante and Laura rule over Albania with
justice, peace, and harmony.  When Sultan Ali-Adab dies, Aladdin and Flerida return to Persia and they rule over
the people happily.

"The Visitation of the Gods"

Gilda Cordero-Fernando
The letter announcing the visitation (a yearly descent upon the school by the superintendent, the district
supervisors and the division supervisors for "purposes of inspection and evaluation") had been delivered in the
morning by a sleepy janitor to the principal. The party was, the attached circular revealed a hurried glance, now at
Pagkabuhay, would be in Mapili by lunchtime, and barring typhoons, floods, volcanic eruptions and other acts of
God, would be upon Pugad Lawin by afternoon.
Consequently, after the first period, all the morning classes were dismissed. The Home Economics building,
where the fourteen visiting school officials were to be housed, became the hub of a general cleaning. Long-
handled brooms ravished the homes of peaceful spiders from cross beams and transoms, the capiz of the
windows were scrubbed to an eggshell whiteness, and the floors became mirrors after assiduous bouts with husk
and candlewax. Open wood boxes of Coronas largas were scattered within convenient reach of the carved
sofa,the Vienna chairs and the stag-horn hat rack. The sink, too, had been repaired and the spent bulbs replaced;
a block of ice with patches of sawdust rested in the hollow of the small unpainted icebox. There was a brief
discussion on whether the French soap poster behind the kitchen door was to go or stay: it depicted a trio of
languorous nymphs in various stages of deshabille reclining upon a scroll bearing the legend Parfumerie et
Savonerie but the woodworking instructor remembered that it had been put there to cover a rotting jagged hole -
and the nymphs had stayed.
The base of the flagpole, too, had been cemented and the old gate given a whitewash. The bare grounds
were, within the remarkable space of two hours, transformed into a riotous bougainvillea garden. Potted blooms
were still coming in through the gate by wheelbarrow and bicycle. Buried deep in the secret earth, what supervisor
could tell that such gorgeous specimens were potted, or that they had merely been borrowed from the neighboring
houses for the visitation? Every school in the province had its special point of pride - a bed of giant squashes, an
enclosure or white kingpigeons, a washroom constructed by the PTA. Yearly, Pugad Lawin High School had made
capital of its topography: rooted on the firm ledge of a hill, the schoolhouse was accessible by a series of stone
steps carved on the hard face of the rocks; its west windows looked out on the misty grandeur of a mountain chain
shaped like a sleeping woman. Marvelous, but the supervisors were expecting something tangible, and so this
year there was the bougainvillea.
The teaching staff and the student body had been divided into four working groups. The first group,
composed of Mrs. Divinagracia, the harassed Home Economics instructor, and some of the less attractive lady
teachers, were banished to the kitchen to prepare the menu: it consisted of a 14-lb. suckling pig, macaroni soup,
embutido, chicken salad, baked lapu-lapu, morcon, leche flan and ice cream, the total cost of which had already
been deducted from the teachers' pay envelopes. Far be it to be said that Pugad Lawin was lacking in generosity,
charm or good tango dancers! Visitation was, after all, 99% impression - and Mr. Olbes, the principal, had
promised to remember the teachers' cooperation in that regard in the efficiency reports.The teachers of Group
Two had been assigned to procure the beddings and the dishes to be used for the supper. In true bureaucratic
fashion they had relegated the assignment to their students, who in turn had denuded their neighbors' homes of
cots, pillows, and sleeping mats. The only bed properly belonging to the Home Economics Building was a four-
poster with a canopy and the superintendent was to be given the honor of slumbering upon it. Hence it was
endowed with the grandest of the sleeping mats, two sizes large, but interwoven with a detailed map of the
archipelago. Nestling against the headboard was a quartet of the principal's wife's heart-shaped pillows - two hard
ones and two soft ones - Group Two being uncertain of the sleeping preferences of division heads.

"Structuring the Rooms" was the responsibility of the third group. It consisted in the construction (hurriedly) of
graphs, charts, and other visual aids. There was a scurrying to complete unfinished lesson plans and correct
neglected theme books; precipitate trips from bookstand to broom closet in a last desperate attempt to keep out of
sight the dirty spelling booklets of a preceding generation, unfinished projects and assorted rags - the key later
conveniently "lost" among the folds of Mrs. Olbes' (the principal's wife) balloon skirt. All year round the classroom
walls had been unperturbably blank. Now they were, like the grounds, miraculously abloom - with
cartolinaillustrations of Parsing, Amitosis Cell Division and the Evolution of the Filipina Dress - thanks to the Group
Two leader, Mr. Buenaflor (Industrial Arts) who, forsaken, sat hunched over a rainfall graph. The distaff side of
Group Two were either practicing tango steps or clustered around a vacationing teacher who had taken advantage
of her paid maternity leave to make a mysterious trip to Hongkong and had now returned with a provocative array
of goods for sale. The rowdiest freshman boys composed the fourth and discriminated group. Under the
stewardship of Miss Noel (English), they had, for the past two days been "Landscaping the Premises," as
assignment which, true to its appellation, consisted in the removal of all unsightly objects from the landscape. That
the dirty assignment had not fallen on the hefty Mr. de Dios (Physics) or the crafty Mr. Baz (National Language),
both of whom were now hanging curtains, did not surprise Miss Noel. She had long been at odds with the
principal, or rather, the principal's wife - ever since the plump Mrs. Olbes had come to school in a fashionable sack
dress and caught on Miss Noel's mouth a half-effaced smile. "We are such a fashionable group," Miss Noel had
joked once at a faculty meeting. "If only our reading could also be in fashion!" -- which statement obtained for her
the ire of the only two teachers left talking to her. That Miss Noel spent her vacations taking a summer course for
teachers in Manila made matters even worse - for Mr. Olbes believed that the English teacher attended these
courses for the sole purpose of showing them up. And Miss Noel's latest wrinkle, the Integration Method, gave Mr.
Olbes a pain where he sat.
Miss Noel, on the other hand, thought utterly unbecoming and disgusting the manner in which the principal's
wife praised a teacher's new purse of shawl. ("It's so pretty, where can I get one exactly like it?" - a heavy-handed
and graceless hint) or the way she had of announcing, well in advance, birthdays and baptisms in her family (in
other words, "Prepare!"). The lady teachers were, moreover, for lack of household help, "invited" to the principal's
house to make a special salad, stuff a chicken or clean the silverware. But this certainly was much less than
expected of the vocational staff - the Woodworking instructor who was detailed to do all the painting and repair
work on the principal's house, the Poultry instructor whose stock of leghorns was depleted after every party of the
Olbeses, and the Automotive instructor who was forever being detailed behind the wheel of the principal's jeep -
and Miss Noel had come to take it in stride as one of the hazards of the profession.
But today, accidentally meeting in the lavatory, a distressed Mrs. Olbes had appealed to Miss Noel for help
with her placket zipper, after which she brought out a bottle of lotion and proceeded to douse the English teacher
gratefully with it. Fresh from the trash pits, Miss Noel, with supreme effort, resisted from making an untoward
observation - and friendship was restored on the amicable note of a stuck zipper.At 1:30, the superintendent's car
and the weapons carrier containing the supervisors drove through the town arch of Pugad Lawin. A runner, posted
at the town gate since morning, came panting down the road but was outdistanced by the vehicles. The principal
still in undershirt and drawers, shaving his jowls by the window, first sighted the approaching party. Instantly, the
room was in a hustle. Grimy socks, Form 137's and a half bottle of beer found their way into Mr. Olbes' desk
drawer. A sophomore breezed down the corridor holding aloft a newly-pressed barong on a wire hanger. Behind
the closed door, Mrs. Olbes wriggled determinedly into her corset.
The welcoming committee was waiting on the stone steps when the visitors alighted. It being Flag Day, the
male instructors were attired in barong, the women in red, white or blue dresses in obedience to the principal's
circular. The Social Studies teacher, hurrying down the steps to present thesampaguita garlands, tripped upon an
unexpected pot of borrowed bougainvillea. Peeping from an upstairs window, the kitchen group noted that there
were only twelve arrivals. Later it was brought out that the National Language Supervisor had gotten a severe
stomach cramp and had to be left at the Health Center; that Miss Santos (PE) and Mr. del Rosario (Military
Tactics) had eloped at dawn.Four pairs of hands fought for the singular honor of wrenching open the car door, and
Mr. Alava emerged into the sunlight. He was brown as asampaloc seed. Mr. Alava gazed with satisfaction upon
the patriotic faculty and belched his approval in cigar smoke upon the landscape. The principal, rivaling a total
eclipse, strode towards Mr. Alava minus a cuff link. "Compañero!" boomed the superintendent with outstretched
arms.
"Compañero!" echoed Mr. Olbes. They embraced darkly.
There was a great to-do in the weapons carrier. The academic supervisor'spabaon of live crabs from Mapili
had gotten entangled with the kalamay in the Home Economics supervisor's basket. The district supervisor had
mislaid his left shoe among the squawking chickens and someone had stepped on the puto seco. There were
overnight bags and reed baskets to unload, bundles of perishable and unperishable going-away gifts. (The Home
Economics staff's dilemma: sans ice box, how to preserve all the food till the next morning). A safari of Pugad
Lawin instructors lent their shoulders gallantly to the occasion.Vainly, Miss Noel searched in the crowd for the old
Language Arts supervisor. All the years she had been in Pugad Lawin, Mr. Ampil had come: in him there was no
sickening bureaucracy, none of the self-importance and pettiness that often characterized the small public official .
He was dedicated to the service of education, had grown old in it. He was about the finest man Miss Noel had
ever known.
How often had the temporary teachers had to court the favor of their supervisors with lavish gifts of sweets,
de hilo, portfolios and what-not, hoping that they would be given a favorable recommendation! A permanent
position for the highest bidder. But Miss Noel herself had never experienced this rigmarole -- she had passed her
exams and had been recommended to the first vacancy by Mr. Ampil without having uttered a word of flattery or
given a single gift. It was ironic that even in education, you found the highest and the meanest forms of
men.Through the crowd came a tall unfamiliar figure in a loose coat, a triad of pens leaking in his pocket. Under
the brave nose, the chin had receded like a gray hermit crab upon the coming of a great wave. "Miss Noel, I
presume?" said the stranger. The English teacher nodded. "I am the new English supervisor - Sawit is the name."
The tall man shook her hand warmly.
"Did you have a good trip, Sir?" Mr. Sawit made a face. "Terrible!" Miss Noel laughed. "Shall I show you to
your quarters? You must be tired."
"Yes, indeed," said Mr. Sawit. "I'd like to freshen up. And do see that someone takes care of my orchids, or
my wife will skin me alive."
The new English supervisor gathered his portfolios and Miss Noel picked up the heavy load of orchids.
Silently, they walked down the corridor of the Home Economics building, hunter and laden Indian guide.
"I trust nothing's the matter with Mr. Ampil, Sir?"
 "Then you haven't heard? The old fool broke a collar bone. He's dead." "Oh."
"You see, he insisted on doing all the duties expected of him - he'd be ahead of us in the school we were
visiting if he felt we were dallying on the road. He'd go by horseback, or carabao sled to the distant ones where
the road was inaccessible by bus - and at his age! Then, on our visitation to barrio Tungkod - you know that place,
don't you?"
Miss Noel nodded.
"On the way to the godforsaken island, that muddy hellhole, he slipped on the banca - and well, that's it."
"How terrible."
"Funny thing is - they had to pass the hat around to buy him a coffin. It turned out the fellow was as poor as a
churchmouse. You'd think, why this old fool had been thirty-three years in the service. Never a day absent. Never
a day late. Never told a lie. You'd think at least he'd get a decent burial - but he hadn't reached 65 and wasn't
going to get a cent he wasn't working for. Well, anyway, that's a thorn off your side."
Miss Noel wrinkled her brow, puzzled.
"I thought all teachers hated strict supervisors." Mr. Sawit elucidated. "Didn't you all quake for your life when
Mr. Ampil was there waiting at the door of the classroom even before you opened it with your key?"
"Feared him, yes," said Miss Noel. "But also respected and admired him for what he stood for."
Mr. Sawit shook his head smiling. "So that's how the wind blows," he said, scratching a speck of dust off his
earlobe.
Miss Noel deposited the supervisor's orchids in the corridor. They had reached the reconverted classroom
that Mr. Sawit was to occupy with two others.
"You must be kind to us poor supervisors," said Mr. Sawit as Miss Noel took a cake of soap and a towel from
the press. "The things we go through!" Meticulously, Mr. Sawit peeled back his shirt sleeves to expose his pale
hairless wrists. "At Pagkabuhay, Miss What's-her-name, the grammar teacher, held a demonstration class under
the mango trees. Quite impressive, and modern; but the class had been so well rehearsed that they were reciting
like machine guns. I think it's some kind of a code they have, like if the student knows the answer he is to raise his
left hand, and if he doesn't he is to raise his right, something to that effect." Mr. Sawit reached for the towel
hanging on Miss Noel's arm.
"What I mean to say is, hell, what's the use of going through all thatpalabas? As I always say," Mr. Sawit
raised his arm and pumped it vigorously in the air, "Let's get to the heart of what matters."
Miss Noel looked up with interest. "You mean get into the root of the problem?"
"Hell no!" the English supervisor said, "I mean the dance! I always believe there's no school problem that a
good round of tango will not solve!"
Mr. Sawit groped blindly for the towel to wipe his dripping face and came up to find Miss Noel smiling.
"Come, girl," he said lamely. "I was really only joking."
As soon as the bell rang, Miss Noel entered I-B followed by Mr. Sawit. The students were nervous. You could
see their hands twitching under the desks. Once in a while they glanced apprehensively behind to where Mr. Sawit
sat on a cane chair, straight as a bamboo. But as the class began, the nervousness vanished and the boys
launched into the recitation with aplomb. Confidently, Miss Noel sailed through a sea of prepositions, using the
Oral Approach Method:
"I live in a barrio." "I live in a town."
"I live in Pugad Lawin." "I live on a street."
"I live on Calle Real…"
Mr. Sawit scribbled busily on his pad.
Triumphantly, Miss Noel ended the period with a trip to the back of the building where the students had
constructed a home-made printing press and were putting out their first school paper.
The inspection of the rest of the building took exactly half an hour. It was characterized by a steering away
from the less presentable parts of the school (except for the Industrial Arts supervisor who, unwatched, had come
upon and stood gaping at the French soap poster). The twenty-three strains of bougainvillea received such a
chorus of praise and requests for cutting that the poor teachers were nonplussed on how to meet them without
endangering life and limb from their rightful owners. The Academic supervisor commented upon the surprisingly
fresh appearance of the Amitosis chart and this was of course followed by a ripple of nervous laughter. Mr. Sawit
inquired softly of Miss Noel what the town's cottage industry was, upon instructions of his uncle, the supervisor.
"Buntal hats," said Miss Noel.
The tour ended upon the sound of the dinner bell and at 7 o'clock the guests sat down to supper. The table,
lorded over by a stuffed Bontoc eagle, was indeed an impressive sight. The flowered soup plates borrowed from
Mrs. Valenton vied with Mrs. De los Santos' bone china. Mrs. Alejandro's willoware server rivalled but could not
quite outshine the soup tureens of Mrs. Cruz. Pink paper napkins blossomed grandly in a water glass.
The superintendent took the place of honor at the head of the table with Mr. Olbes at his right. And the feast
began. Everyone partook heavily of the elaborate dishes; there were second helpings and many requests for
toothpicks. On either side of Mr. Alava, during the course of the meal, stood Miss Rosales and Mrs. Olbes, the
former fanning him, the latter boning thelapu- lapu on his plate. The rest of the Pugad Lawin teachers, previously
fed on hopia and coke, acted as waitresses. Never was a beer glass empty, never a napkin out of reach, and the
supervisors, with murmured apologies, belched approvingly. Towards the end of the meal, Mr. Alava inquired
casually of the principal where he could purchase some buntalhats. Elated, the latter replied that it was the cottage
industry right here in Pugad Lawin. They were, however, the principal said, not for sale to colleagues. The
Superintendent shook his head and said he insisted on paying, and brought out his wallet, upon which the
principal was so offended he would not continue eating. At last the superintendent said, all right, compañero, give
me one or two hats, but the principal shook his head and ordered his alarmed teachers to round up fifty; and the
ice cream was served. Close upon the wings of the dinner tripped the Social Hour. The hosts and the guests
repaired to the sala where a rondalla of high school boys were playing an animated rendition of "Merry Widow"
behind the hat rack. There was a concerted reaching for open cigar boxes and presently the room was clouded
with acrid black smoke. Mr. Olbes took Miss Noel firmly by the elbow and steered her towards Mr. Alava who,
deep in a cigar, sat wide-legged on the carved sofa. "Mr. Superintendent," said the principal. "This is Miss Noel,
our English teacher. She would be greatly honored if you open the dance with her."
"Compañero," twinkled the superintendent. "I did not know Pugad Lawin grew such exquisite flowers."
Miss Noel smiled thinly. Mr. Alava's terpsichorean knowledge had never advanced beyond a bumbling waltz.
They rocked, gyrated, stumbled, recovered, rolled back into the center, amid a wave of teasing and applause. To
each of the supervisors, in turn, the principal presented a pretty instructor, while the rest, unattractive or painfully
shy, and therefore unfit offering to the gods, were left to fend for themselves. The first number was followed by
others in three- quarter time and Miss Noel danced most of them with Mr. Sawit. At ten o'clock, the district
supervisor suggested that they all drive to the next town where the fiesta was being celebrated with a big dance in
the plaza. All the prettier lady teachers were drafted and the automotive instructor was ordered behind the wheel
of the weapons carrier. Miss Noel remained behind together with Mrs. Divinagracia and the Home Economics
staff, pleading a headache. Graciously, Mr. Sawit also remained behind.
As Miss Noel repaired to the kitchen, Mr. Sawit followed her. "The principal tells me you are quite headstrong,
Miss Noel," he said. "But then I don't put much stock by what principals say."
Miss Noel emptied the ashtrays in the trash can. "If he meant why I refused to dance with Mr. Lucban…"
"No, just things in general," said Mr. Sawit. "The visitation, for instance. What do you think of it?"
Miss Noel looked into Mr. Sawit's eyes steadily. "Do you want my frank opinion, Sir?" "Yes, of course."
"Well, I think it's all a farce."
"That's what I've heard - what makes you think that?"
"Isn't it obvious? You announce a whole month ahead that you're visiting. We clean the schoolhouse, tuck the
trash in the drawers, bring out our best manners. As you said before, we rehearse our classes. Then we roll out
the red carpet - and you believe you observe us in our everyday surrounding, in our everyday comportment?"
"Oh, we know that."
"That's what I mean - we know that you know. And you know that we know that you know." Mr. Sawit gave
out an embarrassed laugh. "Come now, isn't that putting it a trifle strongly?"
"No," replied Miss Noel. "In fact, I overheard one of your own companions say just a while ago that if your
lechon were crisper than that of the preceding school, if our pabaon were more lavish, we would get a higher
efficiency rating."
"Of course he was merely joking. I see what Mr. Olbes meant about your being stubborn." "And what about
one supervisor, an acquaintance of yours, I know, who used to come just
before the town fiesta and assign us the following items: 6 chickens, 150 eggs, 2 goats, 12 leche flans. I
know the list by heart - I was assigned the checker."
"There are a few miserable exceptions…"
"What about the sweepstakes agent supervisor who makes a ticket of the teacher's clearance for the
withdrawal of his pay? How do you explain him?"
Mr. Sawit shook his head as if to clear it.
"Sir, during the five years that I've taught, I've done my best to live up to my ideals. Yet I please nobody. It's
the same old narrow conformism and favor-currying. What matters is not how well one teaches but how well one
has learned the art of pleasing the powers-that-be and it's the same all the way up."
Mr. Sawit threw his cigar out of the window in an arc. "So you want to change the world. I've been in the
service a long time, Miss Noel. Seventeen years. This bald spot on my head caused mostly by new teachers like
you who want to set the world on fire. In my younger days I wouldn't hesitate to recommend you for expulsion for
your rash opinions. But I've grown old and mellow - I recognize spunk and am willing to give it credit. But spunk is
only hard- headedness when not directed towards the proper channels. But you're young enough and you'll learn,
the hard way, singed here and there - but you'll learn."
"How are you so sure?" asked Miss Noel narrowly.
"They all do. There are thousands of teachers. They're mostly disillusioned but they go on teaching - it's the
only place for a woman to go."
"There will be a reclassification next month," continued Mr. Sawit. "Mr. Olbes is out to get you - he can, too,
on grounds of insubordination, you know that. But I'm willing to stick my neck out for you if you stop being such an
idealistic fool and henceforth express no more personal opinions. Let sleeping dogs lie, Miss Noel. I shall give you
a good rating after this visitation because you remind me of my younger sister, if for no other reason. Then after a
year, when I find that you learned to curb your tongue, I will recommend you for a post in Manila where your
talents will not be wasted. I am related to Mr. Alava, you know."
Miss Noel bit her lip in stunned silence. Is this what she had been wasting her years on? She had worked,
she had slaved - with a sting of tears she remembered all the parties missed ("Can't wake up early tomorrow,
Clem"), alliances forgone ("Really, I haven't got the time, maybe some other year?") the chances by-passed
("Why, she's become a spinster!") - then to come face to face with what one has worked for - a boor like Mr. Sawit!
How did one explain him away? What syllogisms could one invent to rub him out of the public school system?
Below the window, Miss Noel heard a giggle as one of the Pugad Lawin teachers was pursued by a mischievous
supervisor in the playground.
"You see," the voice continued, "education is not so much a matter of brains as getting along with one's
fellowmen, else how could I have risen to my present position?" Mr. Sawit laughed harshly. "All the fools I started
out with are still head-teachers in godforsaken barrios, and how can one be idealistic in a mudhole? Goodnight,
my dear." Mr. Sawit's hot trembling hand (the same mighty hand that fathered the 8-A's that made or broke
English teachers) found its way swiftly around her waist, and hot on her forehead Miss Noel endured the supreme
insult of a wet, fatherly kiss.
 Give up your teaching, she heard her aunt say again for the hundredth time, and in a couple of months you
might be the head. We need someone educated because we plan to export.
Oh, to be able to lie in a hammock on the top of the hill and not have to worry about the next lesson plan! To
have time to meet people, to party, to write.
She remembered Clem coming into the house (after the first troubled months of teaching) and persuading her
to come to Manila because his boss was in need of a secretary. Typing! Filing! Shorthand! She had spat the words
contemptuously back at him. I was given a head so I could think! Pride goeth… Miss Noel bowed her head in
silence. Could anyone in the big, lighted offices of the city possibly find use for a stubborn, cranky, BSE major?
As Miss Noel impaled the coffee cups upon the spokes of the drainboard, she heard the door open and the
student named Leon come in for the case of beer empties.
"Pandemonium over, Ma'am?" he asked. Miss Noel smile dimly. Dear perceptive Leon. He wanted to become
a lawyer. Pugad Lawin's first. What kind of a piker was she to betray a dream like that? What would happen to him
if she wasn't there to teach him his p's and f's? Deep in the night and the silence outside flickered an occasional
gaslight in a hut on the mountain shaped like a sleeping woman. Was Porfirio deep in a Physics book? (Oh, but he
mustn't blow up any more pigshed.) What was Juanita composing tonight? (An ode on starlight on the trunk of a
banana tree?) Leon walked swiftly under the window: in Miss Noel's eyes he had already won a case. Why do I
have to be such a darn missionary?
Unafraid, the boy Leon stepped into the night, the burden of bottles light on his back. After breakfast the next
morning, the supervisors packed their belongings and were soon ready. Mr. Buenaflor fetched a camera and they
all posed on the sunny steps for a souvenir photo: the superintendent with Mr. and Mrs. Olbes on either side of
him and the minor gods in descending order on the Home Economics stairs. Miss Noel was late - but she ran to
take her place with pride and humility on the lowest rung of the school's hierarchy.

The Woman Who Had Two Navels

By Nick Joaquin

It is a 1961 historical novel and it is also considered a classic in Philippine literature.It was the recipient of the
first Harry Stonehill award. It tells the story of a Filipino elite woman who is hallucinating, and is preoccupied with
the notion the she has two navels or belly buttons in order to be treated as an extraordinary person. This novel by
Joaquin is a literary assessment of the influence of the past to the time encompassing events in the Philippines
after World War II an examination of an assortment of legacy and heritage and the questions of how can an
individual exercise free will and how to deal with the “shock” after experiencing “epiphanic recognition”
Main Characters
Among the characters conjured by Joaquin are the Manolo Vidal and his family, Connie Escobar, Esteban
and Concha Borromeo, Father Tony, Paco Texeira, and Doctor Monson, a former rebel hiding in Hong Kong to
avoid postwar trials. Connie Escobar, the lead female character, was described by literary critic Epifanio San Juan
as a sufferer of her mother’s estrangement from a world where unconfident malestake advantage of women by
violating them or by venerating them. Connie is married to Macho Escobar, a man who had an affair with Connie’s
mother, a past incident that serves as an “umbilical cord” or "umbilicus", a remnant connected to her present and
future because of her refusal to leave the issue in the past.
According to Epifanio San Juan, the character of Manolo Vidal is the embodiment of the Filipino nationalistic
bourgeois who were once critical of the theocracy of the Spaniards but became transformed puppets and servants
of these colonialists. While, on the other hand, Macho Escobar is not a revolutionary but a member of the
dehumanized clan of hacenderos or landlords of sugar plantations. Paco Texeira was a survivor between the
behaviors of the Monson and Vidal families, and also acted as Nick Joaquin’s “conscience”, an observer who
could have penetrated the existing rituals and ruses. Texeira had the capacity to apprehend and break the class
barrier depicted in the novel’s society, but refused to do so.

SHORT SUMMARY:
Iit started when Connie went to Pepe’s place for consultation. The problem of Connie is how to remove her
other navel. Because if she (if ever) give birth, where would the other umbilical cord be connected. Connie told
Pepe the story about her child hood times. Pepe talked to Señiora de Vidal, and verything that Señiora de Vidal
told Pepe exactly the opposite of what Connie told Pepe. Some things that Señiora de Vidal told Pepe, was that
Connie only have a navel, her navel was not really two. Also the age, which Señiora de Vidal said that Connie was
just 18 years old. And she was not just got married that day, but she was married almost a year already. Pepe
know that Connie hide from her after hearing that Señiora de Vidal ordinary that her father was in news and that
controversies often comes when her father is in the government. Connie’s mom told her not to be affected with the
controversies. After that, Señiora de Vidal also told Pepe that her daughter likes Paco. Pepe knows Paco because
they were classmates during they are in Grade School.
After talking with Señiora de Vidal, Pepe went to Texeria's after. They talked and Pepe discovered that Paco
was in Manila, he writes Mary alot of letters about Connie's Mother. Paco was in manila with his band to play and
sing in two different clubs, they had already signed contracts. Paco became interested with Manila, while Señiora
de Vidal became interested with Hong Kong. The even talked an said, they would meet often and know each
others countries. One time, Connie's mom was not around their house, and Paco met Connie. Starting that time,
connie started watching Paco and his band playing for the club. Until one they, there were few people fighting and
one of them got shot. Connie was there and she was shocked. Paco with Connie went together to a Chinese
Temple. Connie told Paco that she can talk to somebody else, Connie left him. After some weeks past by, Paco
exited the club that he was playing for, and suddenly saw Connie's car in dark. They drove till they reach Paco's
hotel. Paco went out of his hotel room and go away. After that happening, 2 days to be exact, Paco left Manila
alone and went back to Hong Kong.
 Mary, Pepe, Paco went to the park and talked. After few hours, Mary went home ahead with her children. The
two gentlemans talk about Connie's two navel. They where wondering if it is true or not. After talking about it,
Pepe went home while Paco was left in the park. When we came home, he saw his father who was supposed to
be in Manila. His father was very unusal that time and cannot answer most of Paco's questions. Tony his brother
and Rita, who he is engagage to, went to Paco's house becuase their father was their. They ate together and his
father went to his room earlier that other. They were all thinking what happened to their father when he was still in
Manila. He wasn't able to answer their questions and he went to Hongkong earlier than what is expected. The only
this he saw in the room was the dirty run that was full of dust. Pepe gave up of figuring up things and went away.

in In the next chapter, Rita Lopez and Hellen Silva’s painting shop. The phone rang and the person on the
phone was Pepe and ask Rita to go to a dinner with Mary and Paco. Hellen told Rita it was sweet but Rita said, it
was all Mary’s idea. Rita wanted to go home and change clothes but Pepe told him that they will be going straight
to Rita’s shop. So Rita has to just stay in her shop and not to change clothes. So they went to ride a ferry going to
a Disco club in Tovarich. They went there to see one good band playing in Tovarich. Pete Alfonso went near them
in the bar and talk to them. And ask a drink with them, Paco ask Pete Alfonso why there where no singer and
pianist. So he answer and said they ran away and need a replacement. So Paco applied and was accepted to
start the next day. Next, Rita asked Pepe to dance with her but Pepe told him he was too full to dance. Pepe ask
someone who was siting across them awhile ago and said it was Vidal. After talking, Pepe ask permission to Rita
if she can go to the balcony, Pepe went to the balcony to talk with Connie Escobar. Pepe went back to Rita and
told them to go home first because he is going to talk to someone. So Connie Escobar drive Pepe very fast but
Pepe said stop and went away. But after minutes pass by, Pepe went back to the car. Then Connie told Pepe
stories and atlast, the arrived at the hotel. Connie kissed Pepe on his cheeks and go to her room. But, Connie
went back to Pepe and ask him to bring her to other places. Pepe ask her why and she said, because his husband
is up their. Pepe told her, why should you get worried. Connie told him that Macho has other girls, the worst thing
about it was, her own mother Concha De Vidal was the girl of his husband. Connie saw the letters of her mother to
Macho. So Pepe help her and brought her to his wife’s place. Connie ask Pepe to tell Macho that she was just
sick, she don’t like to go there.
Pepe told that to Macho, Macho ask Pepe if Connie is alright, and ask him if he is a doctor, Pepe told him he
was not a doctor. So Macho ask him to get Connie one, Macho was asking and asking Pepe where Connie is but
Pepe didn’t tell him because it was what Connie ask him to do. When Pepe was to leave Macho’s room, Macho
stop him and told the story of how he and Connie got married. Macho became emotional, while the story was on
going. Macho’s father was stroke and after a few days, Macho’s father died. So Macho has to take care of their
business and their “hacienda”. As Pepe went home, just daylight before Rita awoke. Rita didn’t saw Connie in the
sofa.
The next chapter started when it was New Year in Hong Kong. Paco and his band perform in Tovarich.
Everybody there was having a lot of fun. In the convent of St Andrew, Father Tony was planning to teach novices
different languages. But he had a visitor, it was Seniora de Vidal. She told Father Tony that Connie was starting to
invent stories. She knows that Connie hated her because she as Father Tony to convince her to go back to his
husband Macho. After hearing the story, Father Tony was confused and felt very uncomfortable. After that, Father
Tony when to the club to talk to Pepe, Rita, Paco & Mary. He told them everything that Seniora de Vidal told him,
there Paco hated them more.
Later that night, Concha remembers when she first met his husband Esteban Borromeo. A Handsome boy, a
good painter, and an activist she fell in love with and who she married. After Esteban died, she met and married
her latest husband, Mr. Vidal. That night, Concha ask Father Tony to go to her car. They talk everything about
Concha’s past and about Connie. Then Tony and Pepe went home and they saw Connie standing infront of their
door. They try to talk with her, to forgive whatever her mother did to her. And try to start a new life, and told her
she only have one navel. And it was just her imagination. Then Connie started to tease Father Tony and Pepe to
look if she really has two navels.
The next chapter is about what happen to the Connie’s life. How she want to destroy her parents. How she
hated her husband Macho and can’t forgive him. How she sees the world as an evil world, trying to live in a make
believe world. Connie can’t accept to accept the really world. While Connie was on the top of the peak. She
recalled everything that happened and felt hated that is inside her heart, her mothers and his fathers. She
remember the times when she always says that her father and mother are bad, and not her. She felt soared but
still, cannot accept the truth. After a while, she went to the Monastery. When she was in the Monastery and got
inside, she wanted to talk to Father Tony but is was an older father who approach her. They had confrontation of
what Connie really felt. The father showed her that she was bad. But whatever the Father told her, she always
believe that she is not bad.

May Day Eve

By Nick Joaquin

The old people had ordered that the dancing should stop at ten o’clock but it was almost midnight before the
carriages came filing up the departing guests, while the girls who were staying were promptly herded upstairs to
the bedrooms, the young men gathering around to wish them a good night and lamenting their ascent with mock
signs and moaning, proclaiming themselves disconsolate but straightway going off to finish the punch and the
brandy though they were quite drunk already and simply bursting with wild spirits, merriment, arrogance and
audacity, for they were young bucks newly arrived from Europe; the ball had been in their honor; and they had
waltzed and polka-ed and bragged and swaggered and flirted all night and where in no mood to sleep yet--no,
caramba, not on this moist tropic eve! not on this mystic May eve! --with the night still young and so seductive that
it was madness not to go out, not to go forth---and serenade the neighbors! cried one; and swim in the Pasid! cried
another; and gather fireflies! cried a third—whereupon there arose a great clamor for coats and capes, for hats
and canes, and they were a couple of street-lamps flickered and a last carriage rattled away upon the cobbles
while the blind black houses muttered hush-hush, their tile roofs looming like sinister chessboards against a wile
sky murky with clouds, save where an evil young moon prowled about in a corner or where a murderous wind
whirled, whistling and whining, smelling now of the sea and now of the summer orchards and wafting unbearable
childhood fragrances or ripe guavas to the young men trooping so uproariously down the street that the girls who
were desiring upstairs in the bedrooms catered screaming to the windows, crowded giggling at the windows, but
were soon sighing amorously over those young men bawling below; over those wicked young men and their
handsome apparel, their proud flashing eyes, and their elegant mustaches so black and vivid in the moonlight that
the girls were quite ravished with love, and began crying to one another how carefree were men but how awful to
be a girl and what a horrid, horrid world it was, till old Anastasia plucked them off by the ear or the pigtail and
chases them off to bed---while from up the street came the clackety-clack of the watchman’s boots on the cobble
and the clang-clang of his lantern against his knee, and the mighty roll of his great voice booming through the
night, "Guardia serno-o-o! A las doce han dado.
And it was May again, said the old Anastasia. It was the first day of May and witches were abroad in the
night, she said--for it was a night of divination, and night of lovers, and those who cared might peer into a mirror
and would there behold the face of whoever it was they were fated to marry, said the old Anastasia as she hobble
about picking up the piled crinolines and folding up shawls and raking slippers in corner while the girls climbing
into four great poster-beds that overwhelmed the room began shrieking with terror, scrambling over each other
and imploring the old woman not to frighten them.
"Enough, enough, Anastasia! We want to sleep!"
"Go scare the boys instead, you old witch!"
"She is not a witch, she is a maga. She is a maga. She was born of Christmas Eve!"
"St. Anastasia, virgin and martyr."
"Huh? Impossible! She has conquered seven husbands! Are you a virgin, Anastasia?"
"No, but I am seven times a martyr because of you girls!"
"Let her prophesy, let her prophesy! Whom will I marry, old gypsy? Come, tell me."
"You may learn in a mirror if you are not afraid."
"I am not afraid, I will go," cried the young cousin Agueda, jumping up in bed.
"Girls, girls---we are making too much noise! My mother will hear and will come and pinch us all. Agueda, lie
down! And you Anastasia, I command you to shut your mouth and go away!""Your mother told me to stay here all
night, my grand lady!"
"And I will not lie down!" cried the rebellious Agueda, leaping to the floor. "Stay, old woman. Tell me what I
have to do."
"Tell her! Tell her!" chimed the other girls.
The old woman dropped the clothes she had gathered and approached and fixed her eyes on the girl. "You
must take a candle," she instructed, "and go into a room that is dark and that has a mirror in it and you must be
alone in the room. Go up to the mirror and close your eyes and shy:
Mirror, mirror, show to me him whose woman I will be. If all goes right, just above your left shoulder will
appear the face of the man you will marry." A silence. Then: "And hat if all does not go right?" asked Agueda. "Ah,
then the Lord have mercy on you!" "Why." "Because you may see--the Devil!"
The girls screamed and clutched one another, shivering. "But what nonsense!" cried Agueda. "This is the
year 1847. There are no devil anymore!" Nevertheless she had turned pale. "But where could I go, hugh? Yes, I
know! Down to the sala. It has that big mirror and no one is there now." "No, Agueda, no! It is a mortal sin! You will
see the devil!" "I do not care! I am not afraid! I will go!" "Oh, you wicked girl! Oh, you mad girl!" "If you do not come
to bed, Agueda, I will call my mother." "And if you do I will tell her who came to visit you at the convent last March.
Come, old woman---give me that candle. I go." "Oh girls---give me that candle, I go."
But Agueda had already slipped outside; was already tiptoeing across the hall; her feet bare and her dark hair
falling down her shoulders and streaming in the wind as she fled down the stairs, the lighted candle sputtering in
one hand while with the other she pulled up her white gown from her ankles. She paused breathless in the
doorway to the sala and her heart failed her. She tried to imagine the room filled again with lights, laughter,
whirling couples, and the jolly jerky music of the fiddlers. But, oh, it was a dark den, a weird cavern for the
windows had been closed and the furniture stacked up against the walls. She crossed herself and stepped inside.
The mirror hung on the wall before her; a big antique mirror with a gold frame carved into leaves and flowers and
mysterious curlicues. She saw herself approaching fearfully in it: a small while ghost that the darkness bodied
forth---but not willingly, not completely, for her eyes and hair were so dark that the face approaching in the mirror
seemed only a mask that floated forward; a bright mask with two holes gaping in it, blown forward by the white
cloud of her gown. But when she stood before the mirror she lifted the candle level with her chin and the dead
mask bloomed into her living face.
She closed her eyes and whispered the incantation. When she had finished such a terror took hold of her that
she felt unable to move, unable to open her eyes and thought she would stand there forever, enchanted. But she
heard a step behind her, and a smothered giggle, and instantly opened her eyes.
"And what did you see, Mama? Oh, what was it?" But Dona Agueda had forgotten the little girl on her lap: she
was staring pass the curly head nestling at her breast and seeing herself in the big mirror hanging in the room. It
was the same room and the same mirror out the face she now saw in it was an old face---a hard, bitter, vengeful
face, framed in graying hair, and so sadly altered, so sadly different from that other face like a white mask, that
fresh young face like a pure mask than she had brought before this mirror one wild May Day midnight years and
years ago.... "But what was it Mama? Oh please go on! What did you see?" Dona Agueda looked down at her
daughter but her face did not soften though her eyes filled with tears. "I saw the devil." she said bitterly. The child
blanched. "The devil, Mama? Oh... Oh..." "Yes, my love. I opened my eyes and there in the mirror, smiling at me
over my left shoulder, was the face of the devil." "Oh, my poor little Mama! And were you very frightened?" "You
can imagine. And that is why good little girls do not look into mirrors except when their mothers tell them. You
must stop this naughty habit, darling, of admiring yourself in every mirror you pass- or you may see something
frightful some day." "But the devil, Mama---what did he look like?" "Well, let me see... he has curly hair and a scar
on his cheek---" "Like the scar of Papa?" "Well, yes. But this of the devil was a scar of sin, while that of your Papa
is a scar of honor. Or so he says." "Go on about the devil." "Well, he had mustaches." "Like those of Papa?" "Oh,
no. Those of your Papa are dirty and graying and smell horribly of tobacco, while these of the devil were very
black and elegant--oh, how elegant!" "And did he speak to you, Mama?" "Yes… Yes, he spoke to me," said Dona
Agueda. And bowing her graying head; she wept.
"Charms like yours have no need for a candle, fair one," he had said, smiling at her in the mirror and stepping
back to give her a low mocking bow. She had whirled around and glared at him and he had burst into laughter.
"But I remember you!" he cried. "You are Agueda, whom I left a mere infant and came home to find a tremendous
beauty, and I danced a waltz with you but you would not give me the polka." "Let me pass," she muttered fiercely,
for he was barring the way. "But I want to dance the polka with you, fair one," he said. So they stood before the
mirror; their panting breath the only sound in the dark room; the candle shining between them and flinging their
shadows to the wall. And young Badoy Montiya (who had crept home very drunk to pass out quietly in bed)
suddenly found himself cold sober and very much awake and ready for anything. His eyes sparkled and the scar
on his face gleamed scarlet. "Let me pass!" she cried again, in a voice of fury, but he grasped her by the wrist.
"No," he smiled. "Not until we have danced." "Go to the devil!" "What a temper has my serrana!" "I am not your
serrana!" "Whose, then? Someone I know? Someone I have offended grievously? Because you treat me, you
treat all my friends like your mortal enemies." "And why not?" she demanded, jerking her wrist away and flashing
her teeth in his face. "Oh, how I detest you, you pompous young men! You go to Europe and you come back
elegant lords and we poor girls are too tame to please you. We have no grace like the Parisiennes, we have no
fire like the Sevillians, and we have no salt, no salt, no salt! Aie, how you weary me, how you bore me, you
fastidious men!" "Come, come---how do you know about us?"
"I was not admiring myself, sir!" "You were admiring the moon perhaps?" "Oh!" she gasped, and burst into
tears. The candle dropped from her hand and she covered her face and sobbed piteously. The candle had gone
out and they stood in darkness, and young Badoy was conscience-stricken. "Oh, do not cry, little one!" Oh, please
forgive me! Please do not cry! But what a brute I am! I was drunk, little one, I was drunk and knew not what I said."
He groped and found her hand and touched it to his lips. She shuddered in her white gown. "Let me go," she
moaned, and tugged feebly. "No. Say you forgive me first. Say you forgive me, Agueda." But instead she pulled
his hand to her mouth and bit it - bit so sharply in the knuckles that he cried with pain and lashed cut with his other
hand--lashed out and hit the air, for she was gone, she had fled, and he heard the rustling of her skirts up the
stairs as he furiously sucked his bleeding fingers. Cruel thoughts raced through his head: he would go and tell his
mother and make her turn the savage girl out of the house--or he would go himself to the girl’s room and drag her
out of bed and slap, slap, slap her silly face! But at the same time he was thinking that they were all going to
Antipolo in the morning and was already planning how he would maneuver himself into the same boat with her.
Oh, he would have his revenge, he would make her pay, that little harlot! She should suffer for this, he thought
greedily, licking his bleeding knuckles. But---Judas! He remembered her bare shoulders: gold in her candlelight
and delicately furred. He saw the mobile insolence of her neck, and her taut breasts steady in the fluid gown. Son
of a Turk, but she was quite enchanting! How could she think she had no fire or grace? And no salt? An arroba
she had of it!
"... No lack of salt in the chrism At the moment of thy baptism!" He sang aloud in the dark room and suddenly
realized that he had fallen madly in love with her. He ached intensely to see her again---at once! ---to touch her
hands and her hair; to hear her harsh voice. He ran to the window and flung open the casements and the beauty
of the night struck him back like a blow. It was May, it was summer, and he was young---young! ---and deliriously
in love. Such a happiness welled up within him that the tears spurted from his eyes. But he did not forgive her--no!
He would still make her pay, he would still have his revenge, he thought viciously, and kissed his wounded fingers.
But what a night it had been! "I will never forge this night! he thought aloud in an awed voice, standing by the
window in the dark room, the tears in his eyes and the wind in his hair and his bleeding knuckles pressed to his
mouth.
But, alas, the heart forgets; the heart is distracted; and May time passes; summer lends; the storms break
over the rot-tipe orchards and the heart grows old; while the hours, the days, the months, and the years pile up
and pile up, till the mind becomes too crowded, too confused: dust gathers in it; cobwebs multiply; the walls
darken and fall into ruin and decay; the memory perished...and there came a time when Don Badoy Montiya
walked home through a May Day midnight without remembering, without even caring to remember; being merely
concerned in feeling his way across the street with his cane; his eyes having grown quite dim and his legs
uncertain--for he was old; he was over sixty; he was a very stopped and shivered old man with white hair and
mustaches coming home from a secret meeting of conspirators; his mind still resounding with the speeches and
his patriot heart still exultant as he picked his way up the steps to the front door and inside into the slumbering
darkness of the house; wholly unconscious of the May night, till on his way down the hall, chancing to glance into
the sala, he shuddered, he stopped, his blood ran cold-- for he had seen a face in the mirror there---a ghostly
candlelight face with the eyes closed and the lips moving, a face that he suddenly felt he had been there before
though it was a full minutes before the lost memory came flowing, came tiding back, so overflooding the actual
moment and so swiftly washing away the piled hours and days and months and years that he was left suddenly
young again; he was a gay young buck again, lately came from Europe; he had been dancing all night; he was
very drunk; he s stepped in the doorway; he saw a face in the dark; he called out...and the lad standing before the
mirror (for it was a lad in a night go jumped with fright and almost dropped his candle, but looking around and
seeing the old man, laughed out with relief and came running.
 "Oh Grandpa, how you frightened me. Don Badoy had turned very pale. "So it was you, you young bandit!
And what is all this, hey? What are you doing down here at this hour?" "Nothing, Grandpa. I was only... I am
only ..." "Yes, you are the great Señor only and how delighted I am to make your acquaintance, Señor Only! But if
I break this cane on your head you maga wish you were someone else, Sir!" "It was just foolishness, Grandpa.
They told me I would see my wife."
"Wife? What wife?" "Mine. The boys at school said I would see her if I looked in a mirror tonight and said:
Mirror, mirror show to me her whose lover I will be.
Don Badoy cackled ruefully. He took the boy by the hair, pulled him along into the room, sat down on a chair,
and drew the boy between his knees. "Now, put your cane down the floor, son, and let us talk this over. So you
want your wife already, hey? You want to see her in advance, hey? But so you know that these are wicked games
and that wicked boys who play them are in danger of seeing horrors?"
"Well, the boys did warn me I might see a witch instead."
"Exactly! A witch so horrible you may die of fright. And she will be witch you, she will torture you, she will eat
your heart and drink your blood!"
"Oh, come now Grandpa. This is 1890. There are no witches anymore."
"Oh-ho, my young Voltaire! And what if I tell you that I myself have seen a witch.
"You? Where?
"Right in this room land right in that mirror," said the old man, and his playful voice had turned savage.
"When, Grandpa?"
"Not so long ago. When I was a bit older than you. Oh, I was a vain fellow and though I was feeling very sick
that night and merely wanted to lie down somewhere and die I could not pass that doorway of course without
stopping to see in the mirror what I looked like when dying. But when I poked my head in what should I see in the
mirror but...but..."
"The witch?"
"Exactly!"
"And then she bewitch you, Grandpa!"
"She bewitched me and she tortured me. l She ate my heart and drank my blood." said the old man bitterly.
"Oh, my poor little Grandpa! Why have you never told me! And she very horrible?
"Horrible? God, no--- she was the most beautiful creature I have ever seen! Her eyes were somewhat like
yours but her hair was like black waters and her golden shoulders were bare. My God, she was enchanting! But I
should have known---I should have known even then---the dark and fatal creature she was!"
A silence. Then: "What a horrid mirror this is, Grandpa," whispered the boy.
"What makes you slay that, hey?"
"Well, you saw this witch in it. And Mama once told me that Grandma once told her that Grandma once saw
the devil in this mirror. Was it of the scare that Grandma died?"
Don Badoy started. For a moment he had forgotten that she was dead, that she had perished---the poor
Agueda; that they were at peace at last, the two of them, her tired body at rest; her broken body set free at last
from the brutal pranks of the earth---from the trap of a May night; from the snare of summer; from the terrible silver
nets of the moon. She had been a mere heap of white hair and bones in the end: a whimpering withered
consumptive, lashing out with her cruel tongue; her eye like live coals; her face like ashes... Now, nothing---
nothing save a name on a stone; save a stone in a graveyard---nothing! was left of the young girl who had flamed
so vividly in a mirror one wild May Day midnight, long, long ago.
And remembering how she had sobbed so piteously; remembering how she had bitten his hand and fled and
how he had sung aloud in the dark room and surprised his heart in the instant of falling in love: such a grief tore up
his throat and eyes that he felt ashamed before the boy; pushed the boy away; stood up and looked out----looked
out upon the medieval shadows of the foul street where a couple of street-lamps flickered and a last carriage was
rattling away upon the cobbles, while the blind black houses muttered hush-hush, their tiled roofs looming like
sinister chessboards against a wild sky murky with clouds, save where an evil old moon prowled about in a corner
or where a murderous wind whirled, whistling and whining, smelling now of the sea and now of the summer
orchards and wafting unbearable the window; the bowed old man sobbing so bitterly at the window; the tears
streaming down his cheeks and the wind in his hair and one hand pressed to his mouth---while from up the street
came the clackety-clack of the watchman’s boots on the cobbles, and the clang-clang of his lantern against his
knee, and the mighty roll of his voice booming through the night:
"Guardia sereno-o-o! A las doce han dado-o-o!"