XVI.THE SCHISM BURIED.A few mornings after this the apostolic nuncio was walking along the calzada by the coast, musing over his plans, when he chanced upon three American soldiers with a Filipino prisoner. He was inclined to pass on with only a cursory glance, but his ever-alert mind, always spurred to observation, prompted to closer scrutiny. Then he saw that the soldiers were drunk. This was not important in his eye, because, under the canteen system inaugurated by the American government, and the influence of the tropics working on the nerves of the boys so far from home, and of the Filipino beverage,vino, drinking was rather common with the soldiers. Indeed, the tropics were playing havoc with the morals of the youth in khaki.Kipling has thus expressed the languorous feeling that gets into the bones in the tropics:Ship me somewhere east of Suez where the best is like the worst,Where there aren’t no TenCommandments, an a man can raise a thirst;For the temple-bells are callin’ an’ it’s there that I would be—By the old Moulmein Pagoda, looking lazy at the sea—On the road to Mandalay,Where the old Flotilla lay,With our sick beneath the awnings when we went to Mandalay!Oh, the road to Mandalay,Where the flyin’-fishes play,An’ the dawn comes up like thunder outer China ’crost the bay!When the mist was on the rice fields an’ the sun was droppin’ slow,She’d git ’er little banjo an she’ sing ‘Kulla-lo-lo!’With ’er arm upon my shoulder an’ ’er cheek agin my cheek,We uster watch the steamers and the hathis pilin’ teak.Vino, that decoction from the cocoanut which in timecrazes the drinker and makes him run amuck, had been getting in its work on the Americans, and they were more or less beside themselves even now. Besides, insidious fever, themali-mali, which weakens the will, leaving the victimchiflado, ready to imitate the movements of any who pass; the almost constant vibration of the soil that tells so on American nerves; the absence from home and accountability to civilized restraints; the enervating tropics that seemed to tingle in their veins and vanish, make them devilish; and the daily sight of half-naked women, whose ideals of morality were tropical rather than American, were telling on the habits of many a homesick mother’s boy. The Philippines became a hot-bed in which erotic passions developed into national scandals. The nuncio himself, with grim desire to strike at the Americans when it profited his cause to do so, had procured the licensing and inspection of bawds, under sanction of the American governor, the fees for inspection going to church charities. So the sights of drunken American soldiers did not even interest him.But there was something about the prisoner that was striking. His very bearing, his mannerism, his cut of tie and clothing proclaimed him to be a priest. If he was a Roman priest, the nuncio felt he must rescue him; if he was an Aglipayan priest, then he might gratify on him the cruel desire to torment which is born in some and which he had fostered by feeding. He determined to put the matter to an instant test by a bold stroke. So he approached the prisoner, crossing himself and saying:“As I live, if this is not Dr. Maximo Voliva, born Aglipay.”It was a venture, but it struck home.“And you are that devil, Violeta, who has robbed us alreadyof our churches. I am not pleased to form your acquaintance.”“Still reprobate and unregenerate, I see,” returned the Jesuit. “At one time we might have made terms with you, but that day is past. We have the whip hand now and you are in our power. Man (speaking to a soldier), run to the nearest house and borrow a couple of spades or shovels, and be quick about it. Follow us down the beach.”The three men walked down the coast to a more secluded spot.“What do you plan to do to me?” asked the erstwhile Maximo.“It will be time to discuss that when we come to it. Do you wish to return to the true church and receive absolution?”“I am in the true church,” replied Aglipay, hardly above a whisper. “You will not murder me?”“We do not murder snakes and vermin when we destroy them. And to think, you used to be a priest in the one true church. You see now what your ambition brought you to.”“Ambition!—I would talk about ambition if I were you. You, who have mastered the poor Filipinos; you, who are planning for control of America! Ambition—may God forgive you!”“I am sorry I can not return the compliment of praying for your forgiveness, but you are so unrepentant. However, I will hear your confession if you wish.”“I will confess to God and not the devil.”“You might as well begin your confession then.”Aglipay paled. But he faced the nuncio and spoke in a calm voice: “How can you profess religion, you who are so cruel, so ambitious, so licentious? Do you really believe, or is it an open mockery with you?”Violeta laughed.“Yes,” answered he, “there is a God, and truth, too, in religion. But it is moral to rise to your full height, though you may trample others as you rise; and though it seem a pity to devour the weaker creatures, no one thinks about it. It is a part of feeding, and is right. We eat a woman’s flesh as ’twere a fowl’s, and take a poor man’s life as though a bird’s; that is, the great do, those with authority. It is doing this that makes them great. Repression is but failure. Life and success came from expression and experience. I am friendly with you because we must part. Good-bye; Bishop.”He extended his hand, but the schismatist, pale and unable to more than move mechanically, stared at him without offering his hand. The nuncio laughed again, and carelessly said, “Oh, as you please.”By this time they were in a shady place, secure from observation by a clump of trees, and the other soldier approached with a couple of shovels.“Scoop out a grave there, fellows,” said the Jesuit. “You must not take your prisoners to headquarters if you would avoid trouble. We will have a bit of fun by and by.”The soldiers were sufficiently drunk to be irresponsible, and of a temperament to receive suggestions. They obeyed the Jesuit without demurring, while he taunted the renegade Romish priest, and then they came to him to inform him that all was ready.“Tie the prisoner,” said the Jesuit.They proceeded to pinion his legs and arms, and when this was done the Jesuit continued:“Now take him and throw him in the trench.”“Dios Mio!You surely will not bury me alive,” plead the leader of the schism, as they lifted him and deposited him in the rude and shallow grave. For answer the Jesuit bade the soldiers seize the shovels and fill up the sand overthe body, leaving the head uncovered. Aglipay begged and prayed, as shovelful after shovelful of sand fell upon him, first rendering him powerless to move, and then bearing upon him with a weight intolerable. His face was blanched, his eyes stood out, bloodshot in horror. For answer to his pleading the Jesuit produced a prayer book and began to read in mockery the service of the dead:“From the pains of death, good Lord, deliver me.” Aglipay gritted his teeth, but his soul responded in a sincerer prayer than the Jesuit uttered.“From the pains of hell and the agony of the grave”—“Good Lord, deliver me,” plead the man in the grave.“Silence the disturber of our devotions,” commanded the Jesuit.One of the soldiers lifted a shovelful of sand and threw it in the face of the man man in the grave. Some grains entered his eyes, but as he lay in agony, because gravel filled his mouth, he could only groan and sputter without speaking.“His mouth shall be filled with gravel,” quoted the Jesuit, with unfeeling sarcasm.“Fill in the grave, men.”The soldiers shoveled for a moment and the remains of Aglipay were buried from sight, literally buried alive.
XVI.THE SCHISM BURIED.A few mornings after this the apostolic nuncio was walking along the calzada by the coast, musing over his plans, when he chanced upon three American soldiers with a Filipino prisoner. He was inclined to pass on with only a cursory glance, but his ever-alert mind, always spurred to observation, prompted to closer scrutiny. Then he saw that the soldiers were drunk. This was not important in his eye, because, under the canteen system inaugurated by the American government, and the influence of the tropics working on the nerves of the boys so far from home, and of the Filipino beverage,vino, drinking was rather common with the soldiers. Indeed, the tropics were playing havoc with the morals of the youth in khaki.Kipling has thus expressed the languorous feeling that gets into the bones in the tropics:Ship me somewhere east of Suez where the best is like the worst,Where there aren’t no TenCommandments, an a man can raise a thirst;For the temple-bells are callin’ an’ it’s there that I would be—By the old Moulmein Pagoda, looking lazy at the sea—On the road to Mandalay,Where the old Flotilla lay,With our sick beneath the awnings when we went to Mandalay!Oh, the road to Mandalay,Where the flyin’-fishes play,An’ the dawn comes up like thunder outer China ’crost the bay!When the mist was on the rice fields an’ the sun was droppin’ slow,She’d git ’er little banjo an she’ sing ‘Kulla-lo-lo!’With ’er arm upon my shoulder an’ ’er cheek agin my cheek,We uster watch the steamers and the hathis pilin’ teak.Vino, that decoction from the cocoanut which in timecrazes the drinker and makes him run amuck, had been getting in its work on the Americans, and they were more or less beside themselves even now. Besides, insidious fever, themali-mali, which weakens the will, leaving the victimchiflado, ready to imitate the movements of any who pass; the almost constant vibration of the soil that tells so on American nerves; the absence from home and accountability to civilized restraints; the enervating tropics that seemed to tingle in their veins and vanish, make them devilish; and the daily sight of half-naked women, whose ideals of morality were tropical rather than American, were telling on the habits of many a homesick mother’s boy. The Philippines became a hot-bed in which erotic passions developed into national scandals. The nuncio himself, with grim desire to strike at the Americans when it profited his cause to do so, had procured the licensing and inspection of bawds, under sanction of the American governor, the fees for inspection going to church charities. So the sights of drunken American soldiers did not even interest him.But there was something about the prisoner that was striking. His very bearing, his mannerism, his cut of tie and clothing proclaimed him to be a priest. If he was a Roman priest, the nuncio felt he must rescue him; if he was an Aglipayan priest, then he might gratify on him the cruel desire to torment which is born in some and which he had fostered by feeding. He determined to put the matter to an instant test by a bold stroke. So he approached the prisoner, crossing himself and saying:“As I live, if this is not Dr. Maximo Voliva, born Aglipay.”It was a venture, but it struck home.“And you are that devil, Violeta, who has robbed us alreadyof our churches. I am not pleased to form your acquaintance.”“Still reprobate and unregenerate, I see,” returned the Jesuit. “At one time we might have made terms with you, but that day is past. We have the whip hand now and you are in our power. Man (speaking to a soldier), run to the nearest house and borrow a couple of spades or shovels, and be quick about it. Follow us down the beach.”The three men walked down the coast to a more secluded spot.“What do you plan to do to me?” asked the erstwhile Maximo.“It will be time to discuss that when we come to it. Do you wish to return to the true church and receive absolution?”“I am in the true church,” replied Aglipay, hardly above a whisper. “You will not murder me?”“We do not murder snakes and vermin when we destroy them. And to think, you used to be a priest in the one true church. You see now what your ambition brought you to.”“Ambition!—I would talk about ambition if I were you. You, who have mastered the poor Filipinos; you, who are planning for control of America! Ambition—may God forgive you!”“I am sorry I can not return the compliment of praying for your forgiveness, but you are so unrepentant. However, I will hear your confession if you wish.”“I will confess to God and not the devil.”“You might as well begin your confession then.”Aglipay paled. But he faced the nuncio and spoke in a calm voice: “How can you profess religion, you who are so cruel, so ambitious, so licentious? Do you really believe, or is it an open mockery with you?”Violeta laughed.“Yes,” answered he, “there is a God, and truth, too, in religion. But it is moral to rise to your full height, though you may trample others as you rise; and though it seem a pity to devour the weaker creatures, no one thinks about it. It is a part of feeding, and is right. We eat a woman’s flesh as ’twere a fowl’s, and take a poor man’s life as though a bird’s; that is, the great do, those with authority. It is doing this that makes them great. Repression is but failure. Life and success came from expression and experience. I am friendly with you because we must part. Good-bye; Bishop.”He extended his hand, but the schismatist, pale and unable to more than move mechanically, stared at him without offering his hand. The nuncio laughed again, and carelessly said, “Oh, as you please.”By this time they were in a shady place, secure from observation by a clump of trees, and the other soldier approached with a couple of shovels.“Scoop out a grave there, fellows,” said the Jesuit. “You must not take your prisoners to headquarters if you would avoid trouble. We will have a bit of fun by and by.”The soldiers were sufficiently drunk to be irresponsible, and of a temperament to receive suggestions. They obeyed the Jesuit without demurring, while he taunted the renegade Romish priest, and then they came to him to inform him that all was ready.“Tie the prisoner,” said the Jesuit.They proceeded to pinion his legs and arms, and when this was done the Jesuit continued:“Now take him and throw him in the trench.”“Dios Mio!You surely will not bury me alive,” plead the leader of the schism, as they lifted him and deposited him in the rude and shallow grave. For answer the Jesuit bade the soldiers seize the shovels and fill up the sand overthe body, leaving the head uncovered. Aglipay begged and prayed, as shovelful after shovelful of sand fell upon him, first rendering him powerless to move, and then bearing upon him with a weight intolerable. His face was blanched, his eyes stood out, bloodshot in horror. For answer to his pleading the Jesuit produced a prayer book and began to read in mockery the service of the dead:“From the pains of death, good Lord, deliver me.” Aglipay gritted his teeth, but his soul responded in a sincerer prayer than the Jesuit uttered.“From the pains of hell and the agony of the grave”—“Good Lord, deliver me,” plead the man in the grave.“Silence the disturber of our devotions,” commanded the Jesuit.One of the soldiers lifted a shovelful of sand and threw it in the face of the man man in the grave. Some grains entered his eyes, but as he lay in agony, because gravel filled his mouth, he could only groan and sputter without speaking.“His mouth shall be filled with gravel,” quoted the Jesuit, with unfeeling sarcasm.“Fill in the grave, men.”The soldiers shoveled for a moment and the remains of Aglipay were buried from sight, literally buried alive.
XVI.THE SCHISM BURIED.
A few mornings after this the apostolic nuncio was walking along the calzada by the coast, musing over his plans, when he chanced upon three American soldiers with a Filipino prisoner. He was inclined to pass on with only a cursory glance, but his ever-alert mind, always spurred to observation, prompted to closer scrutiny. Then he saw that the soldiers were drunk. This was not important in his eye, because, under the canteen system inaugurated by the American government, and the influence of the tropics working on the nerves of the boys so far from home, and of the Filipino beverage,vino, drinking was rather common with the soldiers. Indeed, the tropics were playing havoc with the morals of the youth in khaki.Kipling has thus expressed the languorous feeling that gets into the bones in the tropics:Ship me somewhere east of Suez where the best is like the worst,Where there aren’t no TenCommandments, an a man can raise a thirst;For the temple-bells are callin’ an’ it’s there that I would be—By the old Moulmein Pagoda, looking lazy at the sea—On the road to Mandalay,Where the old Flotilla lay,With our sick beneath the awnings when we went to Mandalay!Oh, the road to Mandalay,Where the flyin’-fishes play,An’ the dawn comes up like thunder outer China ’crost the bay!When the mist was on the rice fields an’ the sun was droppin’ slow,She’d git ’er little banjo an she’ sing ‘Kulla-lo-lo!’With ’er arm upon my shoulder an’ ’er cheek agin my cheek,We uster watch the steamers and the hathis pilin’ teak.Vino, that decoction from the cocoanut which in timecrazes the drinker and makes him run amuck, had been getting in its work on the Americans, and they were more or less beside themselves even now. Besides, insidious fever, themali-mali, which weakens the will, leaving the victimchiflado, ready to imitate the movements of any who pass; the almost constant vibration of the soil that tells so on American nerves; the absence from home and accountability to civilized restraints; the enervating tropics that seemed to tingle in their veins and vanish, make them devilish; and the daily sight of half-naked women, whose ideals of morality were tropical rather than American, were telling on the habits of many a homesick mother’s boy. The Philippines became a hot-bed in which erotic passions developed into national scandals. The nuncio himself, with grim desire to strike at the Americans when it profited his cause to do so, had procured the licensing and inspection of bawds, under sanction of the American governor, the fees for inspection going to church charities. So the sights of drunken American soldiers did not even interest him.But there was something about the prisoner that was striking. His very bearing, his mannerism, his cut of tie and clothing proclaimed him to be a priest. If he was a Roman priest, the nuncio felt he must rescue him; if he was an Aglipayan priest, then he might gratify on him the cruel desire to torment which is born in some and which he had fostered by feeding. He determined to put the matter to an instant test by a bold stroke. So he approached the prisoner, crossing himself and saying:“As I live, if this is not Dr. Maximo Voliva, born Aglipay.”It was a venture, but it struck home.“And you are that devil, Violeta, who has robbed us alreadyof our churches. I am not pleased to form your acquaintance.”“Still reprobate and unregenerate, I see,” returned the Jesuit. “At one time we might have made terms with you, but that day is past. We have the whip hand now and you are in our power. Man (speaking to a soldier), run to the nearest house and borrow a couple of spades or shovels, and be quick about it. Follow us down the beach.”The three men walked down the coast to a more secluded spot.“What do you plan to do to me?” asked the erstwhile Maximo.“It will be time to discuss that when we come to it. Do you wish to return to the true church and receive absolution?”“I am in the true church,” replied Aglipay, hardly above a whisper. “You will not murder me?”“We do not murder snakes and vermin when we destroy them. And to think, you used to be a priest in the one true church. You see now what your ambition brought you to.”“Ambition!—I would talk about ambition if I were you. You, who have mastered the poor Filipinos; you, who are planning for control of America! Ambition—may God forgive you!”“I am sorry I can not return the compliment of praying for your forgiveness, but you are so unrepentant. However, I will hear your confession if you wish.”“I will confess to God and not the devil.”“You might as well begin your confession then.”Aglipay paled. But he faced the nuncio and spoke in a calm voice: “How can you profess religion, you who are so cruel, so ambitious, so licentious? Do you really believe, or is it an open mockery with you?”Violeta laughed.“Yes,” answered he, “there is a God, and truth, too, in religion. But it is moral to rise to your full height, though you may trample others as you rise; and though it seem a pity to devour the weaker creatures, no one thinks about it. It is a part of feeding, and is right. We eat a woman’s flesh as ’twere a fowl’s, and take a poor man’s life as though a bird’s; that is, the great do, those with authority. It is doing this that makes them great. Repression is but failure. Life and success came from expression and experience. I am friendly with you because we must part. Good-bye; Bishop.”He extended his hand, but the schismatist, pale and unable to more than move mechanically, stared at him without offering his hand. The nuncio laughed again, and carelessly said, “Oh, as you please.”By this time they were in a shady place, secure from observation by a clump of trees, and the other soldier approached with a couple of shovels.“Scoop out a grave there, fellows,” said the Jesuit. “You must not take your prisoners to headquarters if you would avoid trouble. We will have a bit of fun by and by.”The soldiers were sufficiently drunk to be irresponsible, and of a temperament to receive suggestions. They obeyed the Jesuit without demurring, while he taunted the renegade Romish priest, and then they came to him to inform him that all was ready.“Tie the prisoner,” said the Jesuit.They proceeded to pinion his legs and arms, and when this was done the Jesuit continued:“Now take him and throw him in the trench.”“Dios Mio!You surely will not bury me alive,” plead the leader of the schism, as they lifted him and deposited him in the rude and shallow grave. For answer the Jesuit bade the soldiers seize the shovels and fill up the sand overthe body, leaving the head uncovered. Aglipay begged and prayed, as shovelful after shovelful of sand fell upon him, first rendering him powerless to move, and then bearing upon him with a weight intolerable. His face was blanched, his eyes stood out, bloodshot in horror. For answer to his pleading the Jesuit produced a prayer book and began to read in mockery the service of the dead:“From the pains of death, good Lord, deliver me.” Aglipay gritted his teeth, but his soul responded in a sincerer prayer than the Jesuit uttered.“From the pains of hell and the agony of the grave”—“Good Lord, deliver me,” plead the man in the grave.“Silence the disturber of our devotions,” commanded the Jesuit.One of the soldiers lifted a shovelful of sand and threw it in the face of the man man in the grave. Some grains entered his eyes, but as he lay in agony, because gravel filled his mouth, he could only groan and sputter without speaking.“His mouth shall be filled with gravel,” quoted the Jesuit, with unfeeling sarcasm.“Fill in the grave, men.”The soldiers shoveled for a moment and the remains of Aglipay were buried from sight, literally buried alive.
A few mornings after this the apostolic nuncio was walking along the calzada by the coast, musing over his plans, when he chanced upon three American soldiers with a Filipino prisoner. He was inclined to pass on with only a cursory glance, but his ever-alert mind, always spurred to observation, prompted to closer scrutiny. Then he saw that the soldiers were drunk. This was not important in his eye, because, under the canteen system inaugurated by the American government, and the influence of the tropics working on the nerves of the boys so far from home, and of the Filipino beverage,vino, drinking was rather common with the soldiers. Indeed, the tropics were playing havoc with the morals of the youth in khaki.
Kipling has thus expressed the languorous feeling that gets into the bones in the tropics:
Ship me somewhere east of Suez where the best is like the worst,Where there aren’t no TenCommandments, an a man can raise a thirst;For the temple-bells are callin’ an’ it’s there that I would be—By the old Moulmein Pagoda, looking lazy at the sea—On the road to Mandalay,Where the old Flotilla lay,With our sick beneath the awnings when we went to Mandalay!Oh, the road to Mandalay,Where the flyin’-fishes play,An’ the dawn comes up like thunder outer China ’crost the bay!When the mist was on the rice fields an’ the sun was droppin’ slow,She’d git ’er little banjo an she’ sing ‘Kulla-lo-lo!’With ’er arm upon my shoulder an’ ’er cheek agin my cheek,We uster watch the steamers and the hathis pilin’ teak.
Ship me somewhere east of Suez where the best is like the worst,
Where there aren’t no TenCommandments, an a man can raise a thirst;
For the temple-bells are callin’ an’ it’s there that I would be—
By the old Moulmein Pagoda, looking lazy at the sea—
On the road to Mandalay,
Where the old Flotilla lay,
With our sick beneath the awnings when we went to Mandalay!
Oh, the road to Mandalay,
Where the flyin’-fishes play,
An’ the dawn comes up like thunder outer China ’crost the bay!
When the mist was on the rice fields an’ the sun was droppin’ slow,
She’d git ’er little banjo an she’ sing ‘Kulla-lo-lo!’
With ’er arm upon my shoulder an’ ’er cheek agin my cheek,
We uster watch the steamers and the hathis pilin’ teak.
Vino, that decoction from the cocoanut which in timecrazes the drinker and makes him run amuck, had been getting in its work on the Americans, and they were more or less beside themselves even now. Besides, insidious fever, themali-mali, which weakens the will, leaving the victimchiflado, ready to imitate the movements of any who pass; the almost constant vibration of the soil that tells so on American nerves; the absence from home and accountability to civilized restraints; the enervating tropics that seemed to tingle in their veins and vanish, make them devilish; and the daily sight of half-naked women, whose ideals of morality were tropical rather than American, were telling on the habits of many a homesick mother’s boy. The Philippines became a hot-bed in which erotic passions developed into national scandals. The nuncio himself, with grim desire to strike at the Americans when it profited his cause to do so, had procured the licensing and inspection of bawds, under sanction of the American governor, the fees for inspection going to church charities. So the sights of drunken American soldiers did not even interest him.
But there was something about the prisoner that was striking. His very bearing, his mannerism, his cut of tie and clothing proclaimed him to be a priest. If he was a Roman priest, the nuncio felt he must rescue him; if he was an Aglipayan priest, then he might gratify on him the cruel desire to torment which is born in some and which he had fostered by feeding. He determined to put the matter to an instant test by a bold stroke. So he approached the prisoner, crossing himself and saying:
“As I live, if this is not Dr. Maximo Voliva, born Aglipay.”
It was a venture, but it struck home.
“And you are that devil, Violeta, who has robbed us alreadyof our churches. I am not pleased to form your acquaintance.”
“Still reprobate and unregenerate, I see,” returned the Jesuit. “At one time we might have made terms with you, but that day is past. We have the whip hand now and you are in our power. Man (speaking to a soldier), run to the nearest house and borrow a couple of spades or shovels, and be quick about it. Follow us down the beach.”
The three men walked down the coast to a more secluded spot.
“What do you plan to do to me?” asked the erstwhile Maximo.
“It will be time to discuss that when we come to it. Do you wish to return to the true church and receive absolution?”
“I am in the true church,” replied Aglipay, hardly above a whisper. “You will not murder me?”
“We do not murder snakes and vermin when we destroy them. And to think, you used to be a priest in the one true church. You see now what your ambition brought you to.”
“Ambition!—I would talk about ambition if I were you. You, who have mastered the poor Filipinos; you, who are planning for control of America! Ambition—may God forgive you!”
“I am sorry I can not return the compliment of praying for your forgiveness, but you are so unrepentant. However, I will hear your confession if you wish.”
“I will confess to God and not the devil.”
“You might as well begin your confession then.”
Aglipay paled. But he faced the nuncio and spoke in a calm voice: “How can you profess religion, you who are so cruel, so ambitious, so licentious? Do you really believe, or is it an open mockery with you?”
Violeta laughed.
“Yes,” answered he, “there is a God, and truth, too, in religion. But it is moral to rise to your full height, though you may trample others as you rise; and though it seem a pity to devour the weaker creatures, no one thinks about it. It is a part of feeding, and is right. We eat a woman’s flesh as ’twere a fowl’s, and take a poor man’s life as though a bird’s; that is, the great do, those with authority. It is doing this that makes them great. Repression is but failure. Life and success came from expression and experience. I am friendly with you because we must part. Good-bye; Bishop.”
He extended his hand, but the schismatist, pale and unable to more than move mechanically, stared at him without offering his hand. The nuncio laughed again, and carelessly said, “Oh, as you please.”
By this time they were in a shady place, secure from observation by a clump of trees, and the other soldier approached with a couple of shovels.
“Scoop out a grave there, fellows,” said the Jesuit. “You must not take your prisoners to headquarters if you would avoid trouble. We will have a bit of fun by and by.”
The soldiers were sufficiently drunk to be irresponsible, and of a temperament to receive suggestions. They obeyed the Jesuit without demurring, while he taunted the renegade Romish priest, and then they came to him to inform him that all was ready.
“Tie the prisoner,” said the Jesuit.
They proceeded to pinion his legs and arms, and when this was done the Jesuit continued:
“Now take him and throw him in the trench.”
“Dios Mio!You surely will not bury me alive,” plead the leader of the schism, as they lifted him and deposited him in the rude and shallow grave. For answer the Jesuit bade the soldiers seize the shovels and fill up the sand overthe body, leaving the head uncovered. Aglipay begged and prayed, as shovelful after shovelful of sand fell upon him, first rendering him powerless to move, and then bearing upon him with a weight intolerable. His face was blanched, his eyes stood out, bloodshot in horror. For answer to his pleading the Jesuit produced a prayer book and began to read in mockery the service of the dead:
“From the pains of death, good Lord, deliver me.” Aglipay gritted his teeth, but his soul responded in a sincerer prayer than the Jesuit uttered.
“From the pains of hell and the agony of the grave”—
“Good Lord, deliver me,” plead the man in the grave.
“Silence the disturber of our devotions,” commanded the Jesuit.
One of the soldiers lifted a shovelful of sand and threw it in the face of the man man in the grave. Some grains entered his eyes, but as he lay in agony, because gravel filled his mouth, he could only groan and sputter without speaking.
“His mouth shall be filled with gravel,” quoted the Jesuit, with unfeeling sarcasm.“Fill in the grave, men.”
The soldiers shoveled for a moment and the remains of Aglipay were buried from sight, literally buried alive.