But the example had been given: the two bangs of the shutter had been heard. Another window opened, this time with precaution, and the wrinkled and toothless head of an old woman looked stealthily out. It was Sister Putá, the old dame who had caused such a commotion during Father Dámaso's sermon. Children and old women are the representatives of curiosity in the world; the children want to know, the old women to live over again. The old sister stayed longer than the child, and gazed into the distance with contracted brows. Timidly a skylight opened in the house opposite, giving passage to the head and shoulders of sister Rufa. The two old women looked across at each other, smiled, exchanged gestures, and signed themselves.
"Since the sack of the pueblo by Bâlat I've not known such a night!" said Sister Putá.
"What a firing! They say it was the band of old Pablo."
"Tulisanes? Impossible! I heard it was the cuadrilleros against the guards; that's why Don Filipo was arrested."
Other windows opened and people were seen exchanging greetings and gossip.
By the light of the dawn, which promised a splendid day, soldiers could now be seen dimly at the end of the street, like gray silhouettes coming and going.
"Do you know what it was?" asked a man, with a villainous face.
"What revolt? The curate against the alférez?"
"Oh, no; nothing of that kind. It was an uprising of the Chinese."
"The Chinese!" repeated all the listeners, with great disappointment.
"I--I suspected they had something on foot!"
"What a pity they are all dead before Christmas!" cried Sister Rufa. "We shall not get their presents!"
The streets began to show signs of life. First the dogs, pigs, and chickens began to circulate; then some little ragged boys, keeping hold of each other's hands, ventured to approach the barracks. Two or three old women crept after them, their heads wrapt in handkerchiefs knotted under their chins, pretending to tell their beads, so as not to be driven back by the soldiers. When it was certain that one might come and go without risking a pistol shot, the men commenced to stroll out. Affecting indifference and stroking their cocks, they finally got as far as the tribunal.
Every quarter hour a new version of the affair was circulated. Ibarra with his servants had tried to carry off Maria Clara, and in defending her, Captain Tiago had been wounded. The number of dead was no longer fourteen, but thirty. At half-past seven the version which received most credit was clear and detailed.