Doña Victorina, the only lady seated in the European group, could say
whether the _Tabo_ was not lazy, disobedient, and capricious--Doña
Victorina, who, nervous as ever, was hurling invectives against the
cascos, bankas, rafts of coconuts, the Indians paddling about, and
even the washerwomen and bathers, who fretted her with their mirth and
chatter. Yes, the _Tabo_ would move along very well if there were no
Indians in the river, no Indians in the country, yes, if there were
not a single Indian in the world--regardless of the fact that the
helmsmen were Indians, the sailors Indians, Indians the engineers,
Indians ninety-nine per cent, of the passengers, and she herself also
an Indian if the rouge were scratched off and her pretentious gown
removed. That morning Doña Victorina was more irritated than usual
because the members of the group took very little notice of her,
reason for which was not lacking; for just consider--there could be
found three friars, convinced that the world would move backwards the
very day they should take a single step to the right; an indefatigable
Don Custodio who was sleeping peacefully, satisfied with his projects;
a prolific writer like Ben-Zayb (anagram of Ibañez), who believed that
the people of Manila thought because he, Ben-Zayb, was a thinker;
a canon like Padre Irene, who added luster to the clergy with his
rubicund face, carefully shaven, from which towered a beautiful Jewish
nose, and his silken cassock of neat cut and small buttons; and a
wealthy jeweler like Simoun, who was reputed to be the adviser and
inspirer of all the acts of his Excellency, the Captain-General--just
consider the presence there of these pillars _sine quibus non_ of the
country, seated there in agreeable discourse, showing little sympathy
for a renegade Filipina who dyed her hair red! Now wasn't this enough
to exhaust the patience of a female Job--a sobriquet Doña Victorina
always applied to herself when put out with any one!