THE CASK OF AMONTILLADO

by Edgar Allan Poe

(1846)

THE thousand injuries of Fortunato I had borne as I best could, but when he ventured
upon insult I vowed revenge. You, who so well know the nature of my soul, will not
suppose, however, that gave utterance to a threat. At length I would be avenged; this was
a point definitely, settled --but the very definitiveness with which it was resolved precluded
the idea of risk. I must not only punish but punish with impunity. A wrong is unredressed
when retribution overtakes its redresser. It is equally unredressed when the avenger fails
to make himself felt as such to him who has done the wrong.

It must be understood that neither by word nor deed had I given Fortunato cause to doubt
my good will. I continued, as was my in to smile in his face, and he did not perceive that
my to smile now was at the thought of his immolation.

He had a weak point --this Fortunato --although in other regards he was a man to be
respected and even feared. He prided himself on his connoisseurship in wine. Few
Italians have the true virtuoso spirit. For the most part their enthusiasm is adopted to suit
the time and opportunity, to practise imposture upon the British and Austrian millionaires.
In painting and gemmary, Fortunato, like his countrymen, was a quack, but in the matter
of old wines he was sincere. In this respect I did not differ from him materially; --I was
skilful in the Italian vintages myself, and bought largely whenever I could.

It was about dusk, one evening during the supreme madness of the carnival season, that
I encountered my friend. He accosted me with excessive warmth, for he had been drinking
much. The man wore motley. He had on a tight-fitting parti-striped dress, and his head
was surmounted by the conical cap and bells. I was so pleased to see him that I thought
I should never have done wringing his hand.

I said to him --"My dear Fortunato, you are luckily met. How remarkably well you are
looking to-day. But I have received a pipe of what passes for Amontillado, and I have my
doubts."

"How?" said he. "Amontillado, A pipe? Impossible! And in the middle of the carnival!"

"I have my doubts," I replied; "and I was silly enough to pay the full Amontillado price
without consulting you in the matter. You were not to be found, and I was fearful of losing
a bargain."

"Amontillado!"

"I have my doubts."

"Amontillado!"
"And I must satisfy them."

"Amontillado!"

"As you are engaged, I am on my way to Luchresi. If any one has a critical turn it is he.
He will tell me --"

"Luchresi cannot tell Amontillado from Sherry."

"And yet some fools will have it that his taste is a match for your own.

"Come, let us go."

"Whither?"

"To your vaults."

"My friend, no; I will not impose upon your good nature. I perceive you have an
engagement. Luchresi--"

"I have no engagement; --come."

"My friend, no. It is not the engagement, but the severe cold with which I perceive you are
afflicted. The vaults are insufferably damp. They are encrusted with nitre."

"Let us go, nevertheless. The cold is merely nothing. Amontillado! You have been
imposed upon. And as for Luchresi, he cannot distinguish Sherry from Amontillado."

Thus speaking, Fortunato possessed himself of my arm; and putting on a mask of black
silk and drawing a roquelaire closely about my person, I suffered him to hurry me to my
palazzo.

There were no attendants at home; they had absconded to make merry in honour of the
time. I had told them that I should not return until the morning, and had given them explicit
orders not to stir from the house. These orders were sufficient, I well knew, to insure their
immediate disappearance, one and all, as soon as my back was turned.

I took from their sconces two flambeaux, and giving one to Fortunato, bowed him through
several suites of rooms to the archway that led into the vaults. I passed down a long and
winding staircase, requesting him to be cautious as he followed. We came at length to
the foot of the descent, and stood together upon the damp ground of the catacombs of
the Montresors.

The gait of my friend was unsteady, and the bells upon his cap jingled as he strode.

"The pipe," he said.

"It is farther on," said I; "but observe the white web-work which gleams from these cavern
walls."

He turned towards me, and looked into my eves with two filmy orbs that distilled the rheum
of intoxication.

"Nitre?" he asked, at length.

"Nitre," I replied. "How long have you had that cough?"

"Ugh! ugh! ugh! --ugh! ugh! ugh! --ugh! ugh! ugh! --ugh! ugh! ugh! --ugh! ugh! ugh!"

My poor friend found it impossible to reply for many minutes.

"It is nothing," he said, at last.

"Come," I said, with decision, "we will go back; your health is precious. You are rich,
respected, admired, beloved; you are happy, as once I was. You are a man to be missed.
For me it is no matter. We will go back; you will be ill, and I cannot be responsible.
Besides, there is Luchresi --"

"Enough," he said; "the cough's a mere nothing; it will not kill me. I shall not die of a
cough."

"True --true," I replied; "and, indeed, I had no intention of alarming you unnecessarily --
but you should use all proper caution. A draught of this Medoc will defend us from the
damps.

Here I knocked off the neck of a bottle which I drew from a long row of its fellows that lay
upon the mould.

"Drink," I said, presenting him the wine.

He raised it to his lips with a leer. He paused and nodded to me familiarly, while his bells
jingled.

"I drink," he said, "to the buried that repose around us."

"And I to your long life."

He again took my arm, and we proceeded.

"These vaults," he said, "are extensive."

"The Montresors," I replied, "were a great and numerous family."

"I forget your arms."

"A huge human foot d'or, in a field azure; the foot crushes a serpent rampant whose fangs
are imbedded in the heel."

"And the motto?"

"Nemo me impune lacessit."

"Good!" he said.

The wine sparkled in his eyes and the bells jingled. My own fancy grew warm with the
Medoc. We had passed through long walls of piled skeletons, with casks and puncheons
intermingling, into the inmost recesses of the catacombs. I paused again, and this time I
made bold to seize Fortunato by an arm above the elbow.

"The nitre!" I said; "see, it increases. It hangs like moss upon the vaults. We are below
the river's bed. The drops of moisture trickle among the bones. Come, we will go back
ere it is too late. Your cough --"

"It is nothing," he said; "let us go on. But first, another draught of the Medoc."

I broke and reached him a flagon of De Grave. He emptied it at a breath. His eyes flashed
with a fierce light. He laughed and threw the bottle upwards with a gesticulation I did not
understand.

I looked at him in surprise. He repeated the movement --a grotesque one.

"You do not comprehend?" he said.

"Not I," I replied.

"Then you are not of the brotherhood."

"How?"

"You are not of the masons."

"Yes, yes," I said; "yes, yes."

"You? Impossible! A mason?"

"A mason," I replied.

"A sign," he said, "a sign."

"It is this," I answered, producing from beneath the folds of my roquelaire a trowel.

"You jest," he exclaimed, recoiling a few paces. "But let us proceed to the Amontillado."

"Be it so," I said, replacing the tool beneath the cloak and again offering him my arm. He
leaned upon it heavily. We continued our route in search of the Amontillado. We passed
through a range of low arches, descended, passed on, and descending again, arrived at
a deep crypt, in which the foulness of the air caused our flambeaux rather to glow than
flame.

At the most remote end of the crypt there appeared another less spacious. Its walls had
been lined with human remains, piled to the vault overhead, in the fashion of the great
catacombs of Paris. Three sides of this interior crypt were still ornamented in this manner.
From the fourth side the bones had been thrown down, and lay promiscuously upon the
earth, forming at one point a mound of some size. Within the wall thus exposed by the
displacing of the bones, we perceived a still interior crypt or recess, in depth about four
feet, in width three, in height six or seven. It seemed to have been constructed for no
especial use within itself, but formed merely the interval between two of the colossal
supports of the roof of the catacombs, and was backed by one of their circumscribing
walls of solid granite.

It was in vain that Fortunato, uplifting his dull torch, endeavoured to pry into the depth of
the recess. Its termination the feeble light did not enable us to see.

"Proceed," I said; "herein is the Amontillado. As for Luchresi --"

"He is an ignoramus," interrupted my friend, as he stepped unsteadily forward, while I

followed immediately at his heels. In niche, and finding an instant he had reached the
extremity of the niche, and finding his progress arrested by the rock, stood stupidly
bewildered. A moment more and I had fettered him to the granite. In its surface were two
iron staples, distant from each other about two feet, horizontally. From one of these
depended a short chain, from the other a padlock. Throwing the links about his waist, it
was but the work of a few seconds to secure it. He was too much astounded to resist.
Withdrawing the key I stepped back from the recess.

"Pass your hand," I said, "over the wall; you cannot help feeling the nitre. Indeed, it is very
damp. Once more let me implore you to return. No? Then I must positively leave you. But
I must first render you all the little attentions in my power."

"The Amontillado!" ejaculated my friend, not yet recovered from his astonishment.

"True," I replied; "the Amontillado."

As I said these words I busied myself among the pile of bones of which I have before
spoken. Throwing them aside, I soon uncovered a quantity of building stone and mortar.
With these materials and with the aid of my trowel, I began vigorously to wall up the
entrance of the niche.

I had scarcely laid the first tier of the masonry when I discovered that the intoxication of
Fortunato had in a great measure worn off. The earliest indication I had of this was a low
moaning cry from the depth of the recess. It was not the cry of a drunken man. There was
then a long and obstinate silence. I laid the second tier, and the third, and the fourth; and
then I heard the furious vibrations of the chain. The noise lasted for several minutes,
during which, that I might hearken to it with the more satisfaction, I ceased my labours
and sat down upon the bones. When at last the clanking subsided, I resumed the trowel,
and finished without interruption the fifth, the sixth, and the seventh tier. The wall was
now nearly upon a level with my breast. I again paused, and holding the flambeaux over
the mason-work, threw a few feeble rays upon the figure within.

A succession of loud and shrill screams, bursting suddenly from the throat of the chained
form, seemed to thrust me violently back. For a brief moment I hesitated, I trembled.
Unsheathing my rapier, I began to grope with it about the recess; but the thought of an
instant reassured me. I placed my hand upon the solid fabric of the catacombs, and felt
satisfied. I reapproached the wall; I replied to the yells of him who clamoured. I re-echoed,
I aided, I surpassed them in volume and in strength. I did this, and the clamourer grew
still.

It was now midnight, and my task was drawing to a close. I had completed the eighth, the
ninth and the tenth tier. I had finished a portion of the last and the eleventh; there
remained but a single stone to be fitted and plastered in. I struggled with its weight; I
placed it partially in its destined position. But now there came from out the niche a low
laugh that erected the hairs upon my head. It was succeeded by a sad voice, which I had
difficulty in recognizing as that of the noble Fortunato. The voice said--

"Ha! ha! ha! --he! he! he! --a very good joke, indeed --an excellent jest. We will have many
a rich laugh about it at the palazzo --he! he! he! --over our wine --he! he! he!"

"The Amontillado!" I said.

"He! he! he! --he! he! he! --yes, the Amontillado. But is it not getting late? Will not they be
awaiting us at the palazzo, the Lady Fortunato and the rest? Let us be gone."

"Yes," I said, "let us be gone."

"For the love of God, Montresor!"

"Yes," I said, "for the love of God!"

But to these words I hearkened in vain for a reply. I grew impatient. I called aloud --

"Fortunato!"
No answer. I called again --

"Fortunato!"

No answer still. I thrust a torch through the remaining aperture and let it fall within. There
came forth in return only a jingling of the bells. My heart grew sick; it was the dampness
of the catacombs that made it so. I hastened to make an end of my labour. I forced the
last stone into its position; I plastered it up. Against the new masonry I re-erected the old
rampart of bones. For the half of a century no mortal has disturbed them. In pace
requiescat!
TITLE: THE CASK OF AMONTILLADO
CHARACTERS:
Montresor
Montresor is a complex and intriguing character whose desire for revenge drives the
story. Given that his family motto is Nemo me impune lacessit, which means "no one
insults me with impunity," Poe seems to suggest that this drive is one that defines his
existence. His noble lineage seems to be at least part of what makes him murderous.
He says he has cause for seeking revenge—that Fortunato has insulted and injured
him—but he never gives any specifics. The cause of his injured pride, then, is unknown
and may be imaginary. Montresor shows his skill at deception by how he tricks
Fortunato, and his skill at planning how he sets up the final resting spot in the catacomb
and guides Fortunato to it. While there is one moment that seems to give him pause
(when Fortunato screams), he is ultimately cold, calculating, and relentless.

Fortunato

Fortunato first appears in the story through Montresor's discussion of how Fortunato has
hurt him. When he appears in the story in person, he's wearing a costume—specifically,
motley—clothes a jester or fool would wear. These two factors largely frame Fortunato's
role throughout the story. Readers experience Fortunato through Montresor's narrative,
which is clearly biased and likely insane—and Fortunato himself plays the fool at many
turns, missing clues and making choices that make his fate worse. Fortunato's ego,
greed, and competitiveness cloud his judgment. Montresor tells readers Fortunato
thinks he is an expert on wine but he certainly doesn't act like it. He acts like an
enthusiast but also like the opposite of an expert: he guzzles wine in quantity, with no
care or respect. (This may be part of what offends Montresor.) Montresor notes that he
regularly overindulges in such a way. Throughout the story—until the very end—
Fortunato seems to think he and Montresor are friends and that their fondness for wine
creates a connection between them. It isn't until Montresor locks him in a crypt and
begins to brick him in that Fortunato finally realizes he's been tricked.

Luchesi

Luchesi is another wine expert. He does not appear in the story in person, but
Montresor repeatedly mentions him to Fortunato. Montresor pretends he is on his way
to see Luchesi to ask about the value of the Amontillado he supposedly has found, but
really he is just using Luchesi as a foil to goad Fortunato into descending into his vaults.

The servants

Montresor's servants do not appear in this story in person. Judging by Montresor's

references to them he does not have a high opinion of their work ethic or honesty. He
says he explicitly ordered them not to leave the house, fully expecting they would leave
as soon as his back was turned to join in the carnival festivities.
SETTING:
Catacombs underneath Montresor's home in Italy
PLOT:
Set during Carnival in February in an unnamed Italian town at some unidentified time (but
perhaps the 18th or 19th century), "The Cask of Amontillado" opens with the
narrator Montresor addressing someone unknown. It might be the reader, but it might be
someone close to Montresor because he mentions that the addressee knows his soul
well. Montresor begins by referring to the many ways Fortunato has injured and insulted
him. Montresor vows revenge, but he also says he hasn't given Fortunato any reason to
suspect they are anything but friends. Montresor recounts how he runs into Fortunato on
the street during carnival season. Fortunato is dressed in motley (the traditional costume
of a fool or jester in commedia dell'arte, an old form of Italian theater) and has been
drinking. Fortunato is proud of his knowledge of wine, so Montresor tells him he has a
cask of something that he's told is Amontillado (a type of sherry). Montresor says he's not
sure, though, so he's going to see a mutual acquaintance named Luchesi to ask him to
test it. Fortunato is excited by the idea that Montresor has managed to buy some
Amontillado and scoffs at the idea that Luchesi might know wine better than he does.
Fortunato insists on going to test the wine right away. Despite Montresor's protestations
that Fortunato must have a previous engagement and that he appears to have a cold that
will be worsened by the damp of his vaults, Fortunato pulls his mask on and urges
Montresor to take him to see the Amontillado. Montresor leads him to his home. It is empty
because the servants have gone to carnival. Montresor takes two torches from the wall
and leads Fortunato down into his family catacombs. Drunk Fortunato wobbles and
coughs as they walk. However, when Montresor expresses concern for his health and
says they should go back, Fortunato brushes it away, insisting it's nothing and he won't
die from it. Montresor agrees and opens a bottle of wine from his wine cellars for
Fortunato. They toast one another. Fortunato drinks to the dead around them; Montresor
drinks to Fortunato's long life. They walk on, talking about Montresor's family, its coat of
arms, and its motto. Montresor points out all the dust and seepage on the walls and
suggests again they go back to protect Fortunato's health. Fortunato again insists they
continue. They do and Montresor opens another bottle of wine for them. Fortunato makes
a gesture that Montresor does not understand. He repeats it, then explains it is a sign so
Masons can recognize one another. He says Montresor must not be a Mason, but
Montresor says he is and shows Fortunato a trowel. Fortunato thinks it is a joke and
nudges his host to lead on to the Amontillado. They walk on, arm in arm, until they reach
a dark crypt full of human bones. Montresor verbally goads Fortunato once more by
mentioning Luchesi. When Fortunato steps further into the crypt, Montresor chains him
to the wall. He continues to talk to Fortunato as if he were there voluntarily, asking him
one more time if he won't leave to preserve his health, then pretending Fortunato has
again refused. Fortunato is so confused by the change in events that he keeps asking
about the Amontillado, making it seem for a moment like the two men are both in the
same false reality. Montresor moves some bones to expose bricks and mortar. He begins
to brick up the opening to the crypt. As he does, Fortunato finally realizes the situation.
He cries out, then goes silent, then shakes the chains as Montresor methodically puts
row after row of brick in place. When the bricks reach the level of Montresor's chest,
Fortunato screams. This scream upsets Montresor enough that he draws his sword and
pokes around the crypt for a while, but the strength of the crypt walls reassures him. He
screams back at Fortunato, and louder, until Fortunato goes still. Montresor goes back to
bricking up the entrance. When he has just one stone left to put in place, Fortunato speaks
again, as if the whole incident has been a prank, in an attempt to be lighthearted while
imploring Montresor to let him go. Montresor plays along but does not let him out.
Fortunato begs Montresor to let him out, "For the love of God," and then goes silent.
Montresor calls his name two more times then puts the final brick in place. He puts the
bones he moved off the bricks back in place and leaves. That was 50 years ago,
Montresor notes in closing, saying in Latin, "Rest in peace!"

CONFLICT: Man vs Man

POV:
THEME:
 THE DANCING GIRL OF IZU
BY YUZUNARI KAWABATA

About the time the road began to wind and I realized that I was finally near
Amagi Pass, a curtain of rain swept up after me at a terrific speed from the foot
of the mountain, painting the dense cedar forests white. I was twenty years old. I wore
my school cap, hakama over my indigo-dyed kimono, and carried a student's bag over
my shoulder. It was the fourth day of my solitary journey down the Izu Peninsula.
I had stayed at Shuzenji Hot Spring one night, then two nights at Yugashima.
And now, wearing high clogs, I was climbing Amagi. Although I had been enchanted by
the layers upon layers of mountains, the virgin forests, and the shades of autumn in
the deep valleys, I was hurrying along this road, my chest pounding with a certain
expectation. Before long, great drops of rain began to pelt me, and I bolted up the steep,
twisted road. I was relieved to reach the teahouse on the north side of the pass
at last, but stopped short in the doorway. My expectation had been realized all too
splendidly. The troupe of itinerant performers was inside, taking a rest. As soon as the
dancing girl noticed me standing there, she pulled out the cushion she had been kneeling
on, turned it over, and placed it near her. "Yes." That's all I said before I sat down.
The words "thank you" stuck in my throat. I was out of breath from running up the road
and from my astonishment. Sitting so close, facing the dancing girl, I fumbled to
pull a cigarette from my kimono sleeve. The girl took the ashtray sitting in front
of her female companion and placed it near me. Naturally, I did not speak. The dancing
girl looked to be about seventeen years old. Her hair was arranged elaborately
in an unusual old style unfamiliar to me. Although it made her striking oval face
look quite small, it created a beautiful harmony. She gave the impression of the girls from
illustrations i n o l d r o m a n c e s w h o w e r e d e p i c t e d w i t h a n e m p h a s i s o n t h e i r
extravagant hair. The dancing girl was accompanied by a woman in her forties,
two older girls, and a man of about twenty-five, who was wearing a jacket
with the insignia of Nagaoka Hot Springs on it. I had seen this troupe
twice previously. The first time I encountered them, near Yugawa Bridge,
I was on my way to Yugashima Hot Springs while they were going to Shuzenji. There
were three girls in the group. The dancing girl was carrying a drum. After we passed, I
looked back at them again and again. I had finally experienced the
romance of travel. Then, my second night at Yugashima, the
entertainers had come to the inn to perform. Sitting halfway down the ladder like stairs, I
had gazed intently at the girl as she danced on the wooden floor of the entryway. "If they
were at Shuzenji the other day and Yugashima tonight, then they would
probably go to Yugano Springs on the south side of A m a g i P a s s t o m o r r o w .
Surely I could catch up with them along the fifteen miles of mountain
r o a d o v e r A m a g i . " T h u s I h a d b e e n daydreaming as I hastened along the road
that day. Now we had ended up taking shelter from the rain at the same teahouse. My
heart was pounding. In a moment the old woman who ran the teahouse led me to another
room. It appeared it was not used regularly and had no sliding paper doors. When I
peered down into the magnificent valley outside the window, I could scarcely see the
bottom. It gave me goose bumps. My teeth chattered and I shivered. The old woman
came back to serve tea. I told her I felt cold. "You're all wet, aren't you, sir?" She spoke
with great deference. "Come in here for a while. Dry your clothes." Reaching for my hand,
she led me into her own parlor. There was a hearth in the middle of the floor of her room.
When she opened the sliding door, the hot air flowed out. I stood at the threshold,
hesitating. An old man sat cross-legged by the fire, his body pale and swollen like a
drowning victim. He turned his languid eyes toward me. They were yellowed to the pupils
as if putrefied. Around him lay piles of old letters and scraps of paper. They almost buried
him. I stood stiff, staring at him, wondering how he could be alive, this mystery in the
mountains. "I'm embarrassed to have you see him this way. Don't worry. This is my old
husband. He may be unsightly, but he can't move. Please be patient with him. "After thus
apologizing, the old woman explained that her husband had suffered from palsy for many
years and now his whole body was almost paralyzed. The mountains of papers were
actually correspondence from every possible source describing treatments for palsy and
packets of medicine the old man had ordered from throughout the country. Whenever he
heard of a treatment from travelers who came over the pass or saw an advertisement in
the newspaper, he never failed to send for it. He kept the papers around him in heaps,
staring at them, never disposing of a single one. Through the years he had accumulated
mountains of aging scraps of paper. Without a word to the old woman, I bent over the
hearth. An automobile navigating the pass rattled the house. I wondered why the old man
did not move down to a lower elevation, with the autumn already this cold and snow soon
to cover the pass. Steam rose from my kimono. The fire was hot enough to scorch my
face. The old woman went back out to the shop, commenting to one of the female
entertainers. "So this is the little girl you had with you before. She's turned out to be such
a nice girl. That's good for you. How pretty she's become. Girls grow up so fast. "About
an hour later, I heard the entertainers preparing to leave. I had not settled in to stay either,
but I was so anxious that I did not have the courage to stand up. Although they were
seasoned travelers, they would be walking at a woman's pace, so I was certain I could
catch up even if Ileft a mile or so behind them. Still, I grew impatient sitting by the hearth.
Once the entertainers had left, my daydreams began a vivid, reckless dance. The old
woman returned from seeing the entertainers off. "Where are they staying tonight?"
I asked. "There's no way to tell where people like that are going to stay, is there, young
man? Wherever they can attract an audience, that's where they stay. It doesn't matter
where it might be. I don't think the likes of them would have a place already planned. "The
scorn that lurked in the woman's words so stirred me, I thought to myself: If that is true,
then I'll have the dancing girl stay in my room tonight. The Rain abated and the mountain
peak cleared. The old woman tried to detain me longer, telling me the sky would be
completely cloud less if only I would wait ten more minutes. But I just could not remain
sitting there. "Please take care of yourself," I said to the old man. "It's going to get colder."
I spoke from my heart as I stood up. His yellow eyes lolled in his head, and he gave a
slight nod. "Sir! Sir!" The old woman followed me outside. "This is far too much money. I
just can't accept it." She picked up my bag in both hands andrefused to give it to me. She
would not listen, no matter how much I tried to dissuade her. The old woman told me she
would accompany me upthe road a bit. She repeated the same words as she tottered
along behind me for a hundred yards."This is much too generous. I'm sorry we didn't
serve you better. I'll make certain to remember your face. When you pass this way
again,we'll do something special for you. Be sure to stop by next time. I won't forget
you."She seemed so overwhelmed, as if she were on the verge of tears, just because I
had left a fifty-sen coin. But I was eager to catch up withthe dancers, and the old woman's
doddering pace hindered me. At last we reached the tunnel at the pass."Thank you very
much," I said. "You'd better go back now. Your husband is there all alone." The old woman
finally released my bag.Cold drops of water plopped inside the dark tunnel. Up ahead,
the tiny portal to southern Izu grew brighter.2The mountain road, stitched on one side
with whitewashed pickets, coursed down from the mouth of the tunnel like a jagged
lightning bolt.The scene resembled a landscape in miniature. I could make out the
itinerant entertainers down at the bottom. Before I had walked half a mile, Iovertook them.
It would be too obvious were I to slacken my pace too abruptly, so I nonchalantly passed
the women. When the man, who waswalking about twenty yards ahead of the others,
noticed me, he paused."You walk fast. . . . We're lucky the weather cleared up," he
said.Relieved, I fell into step with the man. He asked me all kinds of questions. Seeing
the two of us talking, the women scurried to join us.The man was carrying a large wicker
trunk on his back. The woman in her forties was holding a puppy. The oldest girl was
toting a cloth bundle. The middle girl also had a wicker trunk. Everyone carried something.
The dancing girl had a drum and frame on her back. Little by little,the woman, who
seemed to be in her forties, began to talk to me."He's an upper-school student," the oldest
girl whispered to the dancing girl. When I looked around she smiled. "That's right, isn't it?
I knowthat much. Students are always coming down to the island."They were from the
harbor town of Habu on Oshima, the largest island off the southern tip of the Izu
Peninsula. They had been on the roadsince leaving the island in the spring, but it was
turning cold and they had not yet made preparations for winter. They said they were
planning tostay in Shimoda for just ten days, then cross over to the island from Ito Hot
Springs. At the mention of Oshima, I felt even more the poetry of thesituation. Again I
glanced at the dancing girl's lovely hair. I asked questions about Oshima."A lot of students
come to the island to swim, don't they?" the dancing girl said to the girl with her.I turned
back toward them. "In the summer, right?"The dancing girl was flustered. "In the winter,
too," I thought I heard her answer softly."In the winter, too?" I asked.The dancing girl
simply looked at her companion and giggled."You can swim in the winter, too?" I asked
again. The dancing girl blushed. She nodded, with a serious look."This girl is such a silly
one," the older woman laughed.The road to Yugano ran about eight miles down through
the valley of the Kawazu River. On this side of the pass, even the mountains and the color
of the sky began to look more southern. As the man and I continued our conversation, we
took a liking to each other. We passed tiny villages with names like Oginori and
Nashimoto. About the time the thatched roofs of Yugano came into view at the foot of the
mountain, Iventured to tell the man that I wanted to travel with them to Shimoda. He
seemed delighted. When we arrived at a cheap lodging house in Yugano, the older
woman nodded as if to say good-bye. But the man spoke for me: "Thisyoung gentleman
has kindly offered to accompany us.""Well, well. As the old saying goes, 'On the road, a
traveling companion; and in the world, kindness.' Even boring people like us will helpyou
pass the time. Come on in and take a rest." She spoke without formality. The girls all
glanced at me at the same time. They stopped talking,their faces seemingly indifferent.
Then their gaze turned to embarrassment.I went upstairs with them and put down my
bag. The woven floor mats and sliding panel doors were old and dirty. The dancing girl
broughtus some tea from downstairs. Kneeling in front of me, she blushed bright red. Her
hands were trembling. The teacup almost tumbled off thesaucer. She set it down on the
mat to keep it from falling but spilled the whole cup of tea. I was amazed at her
bashfulness."My goodness. She's started thinking about the opposite sex. How
disgusting! Look at that!" The older woman furrowed her brow indismay and
threw a hand towel at the girl, who picked it up and wiped the mat, looking ill at
ease.Caught off guard by the woman's words, I reconsidered my feelings. The daydream
that the old woman at the pass had sparked in me had been dashed."The young student's
indigo kimono certainly is nice," the woman remarked, her eyes fixed on me. "The pattern
is the same as Tamiji's. Isn'tit. Isn't it the same?" After pressing the girls several times,
she spoke to me. "We have another child at home still in school. I was thinking of him. He
has the same kind of kimono as yours. These days indigo kimonos are so expensive, I
just don't know what to do.""What kind of school?""Elementary school, fifth grade.""Oh,
you have a fifth grader?...""His school is not on Oshima. It's in Kofu. We've been on
Oshima for a long time, but Kofu is our original home."After we rested for an hour, die
man led me to another hot spring inn. Until then I had assumed I would be staying at the
same lodging housewith the entertainers. We walked about one hundred yards along
a gravel road and down some stone steps, then crossed a bridge near a public bath
beside a stream. The garden of the inn was on the other side of the bridge.I stepped into
the bath and the man got in after me. He told me he was twenty-four. His wife had lost
two children, one by miscarriage andone that was born prematurely. I assumed he was
from Nagaoka, since his jacket bore a Nagaoka Hot Springs emblem. His intellectual
manner of speaking and his facial expressions made me wonder if he had been
following the entertainers and carrying their luggage simply out of curiosity, or
perhaps because he had fallen in love with one of them.I ate lunch as soon as I got out of
the bath. I had left Yugashima at eight o'clock in the morning, but it was not yet three
o'clock now.As the man made his way to the inn gate, he looked up at my window to say
good-bye."Buy yourself some persimmons or something. I'm sorry. This is such a rude
way to give this to you, from the second floor." I tossed downa packet of money. The man
refused it and turned to go, but he couldn't leave the money lying in the garden so he
returned and picked it up."You shouldn't do things like this," he said, tossing the
packet back up at me. It landed on the thatched roof. When I threw it down
asecond time, he took it with him. Rain started pouring around sunset. The
mountains turned colorless and lost their depth. The small stream in front of the inn ran
yellow asI watched it. The sound of rushing water grew louder. Thinking that the dancers
would never come looking for customers in this torrent, I couldnot sit still, so I went to the
bath two or three more times. My room was dismal. An electric light hung in a square hole
cut in the wall betweenmy room and the next, where it could illuminate both rooms."Ton,
ton, ton, ton." In the distance beyond the clamor of the rain, the vague
reverberations of a drum arose. I shoved open one of theshutters and hung out
the window. The drum seemed to be getting closer. The rain and wind lashed my head.
Closing my eyes and straining tohear, I tried to determine the path of the drum as
it approached. A moment later I heard the sound of a samisen. I heard a woman's long
scream. Iheard boisterous laughter. I surmised that the entertainers had been
called to the banquet room at the inn across from their own. I coulddistinguish
two or three women's voices and three or four men's. I expected them to travel in my
direction once the party broke up, but it seemedthe party would pass the point of merry
drinking and dissolve into riotous nonsense. Occasionally a woman's high, piercing voice
rent the nightlike a thunderbolt. My nerves were on edge. I left the shutter open and just
sat by the window. I felt some consolation every time I heard thedrum."Oh, the dancing
girl is still at the party. She's sitting, playing the drum."I could not bear the silences when
the drum stopped. I sank down into the depths of the sound of the rain.At length I could
hear the noise of confused footsteps—were they playing tag or dancing in circles? Then
all fell silent. I opened my eyeswide, trying to peer through the darkness. What was this
stillness? I was tormented, wondering if the dancing girl's night might be sullied.I closed
the shutters and crawled into bed, but my chest felt heavy. I went down again for a bath.
I thrashed the water. The rain stopped andthe moon came out. The autumn night was
bright, washed clean by the rain. I slipped out of the bathhouse barefoot, but I could not
do anything.It was past two o'clock. After nine o'clock the next morning, the man from the
troupe called on me at my inn. I had just awakened, so I invited him along to the bath.
Itwas a cloudless, almost springlike day in southern Izu. The water had risen in the stream
beside the inn and reflected the warm sun. My previousnight's anguish seemed like a
dream. Still, I broached the subject with the man."You were having quite a time last night.
The drum was going until late.""What? You could hear it?""Yes, I could.""It was for some
local folks. They make such a racket. It's not much fun."He appeared unconcerned, so I
said no more."Look. They're over at the other bath. I think they've noticed us.
They're laughing."He pointed across the stream toward the public bath on the other side.
I could distinguish seven or eight bodies through the steam.Suddenly a naked woman ran
out from the rear of the dark bathhouse. She stood at the edge of the changing area as if
she might come flying
TITLE: THE DANCING GIRL OF IZU
CHARACTERS: Oyoshi, Otoki, Tsurunoya’s son, Osaki, Kaoru, Chiyoko, Okiyo,
Professor, Kawasaki, and Eikichi
SETTING: Izu Area at Japan
PLOT: The Dancing Girl of Izu" tells the story of the interactions between a young male
student from Tokyo, and a small group of travelling performers from nearby Oshima island
whom he meets while touring the Izu Peninsula. The student sees the group several times
and focuses on the beauty of the youngest looking dancer carrying a large drum. He
considers how being on the same road as these travelling performers was exciting. Later,
he encounters them again at a tea house, but upon hearing that they were leaving for the
next town, he struggles with the thought of chasing after them.
Upon catching up with the group, he acts inconspicuously as he passes them on the trail.
Much to his relief, the only male in the group, Eikichi, suddenly strikes up a conversation
with the student, giving him a reason to keep pace with the travellers. During the trip, he
takes a liking to the young dancer that he saw earlier, because of her refreshing and naïve
character. He quickly befriends Eikichi, and follows the group until they arrive at an old
inn. However, much to his disappointment, Eikichi insists that he stay at a better inn,
because he saw the student as someone of higher status. Later that night, he hears the
performers putting on a show at a nearby restaurant, and recognizes the distinct sound
of the young dancer’s drum. He listens intently to the sound of her drum, and convinces
himself that after they are finished performing at the party they will come visit him.
However, he becomes very restless during the night when they do not meet him until the
following morning.
Eikichi invites him to a nearby public bath to relax and share stories. To his surprise, when
he sees the young women playing in the adjacent river, he realizes that the girl he was
developing feelings for was much younger than he had originally perceived. Upon
understanding his mistake, he felt the burden of his infatuation disappear and
subsequently breaks into a fit of laughter; he spends the rest of the day in a really good
spirits. The next day, he gets ready to leave with the performers, however he finds out
that they plan on staying an extra day and have no problem if he leaves ahead of them.
Again, Eikichi saves him from much trouble and suggests that he stay an extra day as
well. As a result, he continues to accompany the performers throughout the following
days. Furthermore, the student is able to maintain his affection towards the young dancer
through acts of friendship. One day, while they are on the road, he overhears the other
women talking about him, and he is very relieved to discover that they think he is a nice
person.
He is dismayed when he eventually has to separate from the group to return home, and
after a brief exchange of farewells with the dancer and Eikichi, he becomes very upset
with having to part ways with his new friends so soon. With the thought that he will not
likely see them again, he solemnly boards a ship heading to Tokyo. An air of uncertainty
about their future meeting remains in the reader's mind, however, because Eikichi on
several occasions through the story has spoken of the student returning to visit them on
Oshima.
CONFLICT: Man Vs World
POV:
THEME:
SINGAPORE: Ang Istorya Ng Taxi
Driver
By Catherine Lim
Revised By: M.R. Avena
(1)Ayos, Ma’am. Sigurado-Darating
kayo sa miting ng mas
Maaga sa t’yempo. Dito tayo dumaan,
Ma’am. Konting
Trapik, konting bara ng mga kotse.
Medya-ora lang,
Naro’n na tayo. Kaya h’wag kayong
mag-alala, Ma’am
(2)Ano yon. Ma’am? Oho, oho. Ha, ha-
dalawampung taon
Na ‘kong taxi driver, Ma’am. Panahon
pa ng kopong-
Kopong. Di pa ganito ang Singapore-
nanikip sa tao,
Bising-bisi. Noon mas tahimik, kokonti
pa lang ang taxi
Drivers, at di-masyadong maraming
kotse at bus
(3)Oho, Ma’am, kumikita naman. Di
malaki pero pwede
Na. Anong mabuti? Para umasenso sa
Singapore, sipag
Lang. Sa mga tulad naming no read, no
write,w alang
kapital para sa negosyo, kailangang
magpatulo ng
pawis nang kumita para sa misis at mga
bata
(4)Oho, Ma’am malaki ang pamilya ko.
Walong anak-anim
na lalaki,dalawang babae.Talagang
malaki, ha, ha
problema,, no Ma’am? Pero noon, wala
naming family
planning sa Singapore. Ang daming
mag-anak ng
pamilya;taun-taon. Dalawa,tatlong anak,
pigil na. Sabi
ng gobyerno, “tama na.”
(5)Buti na lang, malalaki na ang mga
anak ko. Apat sa mga
anak kong lalaki kumakayod na, isang
negosyante,
dalawang clerk, ‘yong isa titser sa
primary school. Yong
isa namay nasa National Service, at
yong isa, nag-aaral
pa, sa Secondary Four. Yong
pinakamatanda kong
babae, beynte anyos na siyang mahigit,
sa bahay lang,
tumutulung sa nanay niya
(6)Wala po, wala pa siyang asawa.
Masyadong mahiyain
at medyo sakitin pero ang bait,
masunurin. Yong isa
kong babe-ay, naku, Ma’am, laking
problema sa ama
pag’yong anak na babae’y salbahe at
lumalaban sa
magulang. Napakalungkot, parang
parusa sa Diyos.
(7)Ngayon, iba ang kabataan, di tulad
naming noon
Noon, wala sa amin ang matigas ang
ulo. ‘Pag sinabi ng
magulang namin na, h’wag gawin ito, di
naming
ginagawa. Kundi, naron ang baston.
Nabaston ako ng
tatay ko. Kahit binata na at malapit nang
mag-asawa
baston parin. Istriktong masyado ang
tatay ko, at
mabuti ‘yon-maging istrikto ang
magulang. Kundi, ‘yan ang totoo. Alam ko lahat ang
walang silbi ang labas ng mga bata. Di kalokohan nila
mag-aaral, Isinisakay ko sila sa taxi ko. Madalas,
aalpas at magna-night club o magda- do’n sila sa bowling
drugs o sex. Tama Alley o coffee shop o hotel naghihintay.
ba ako, Ma’am? Ngayong, laking sakit Tapos
ng ulo sa lalapitan ng mga turisting kano o
magulang ang kabataan. Nakita na n’yo Europeo. Gan’on sila
yong teenager maglibang at kumita ng extrang pera.
d’on sa labas ng coffee shop? Kita nyo Maniniwala ba
na Ma’am? Mga kayo, Ma’am, kung sasabihin ko kung
estudyante palang ‘yon, pero kung ga’no kadami ng
umasta ‘kala mo pera nila? Anak ng-! Kagabi, tong
mga big shot magastos, naninigarilyo batang sakay ko-kyut
na, kung magbihis na kyut, nakameyk-ap at seksi ang suot.
sunod sa moda at mahilig na sa sex. Sabi sa akin,
Naku, Ma’am, dalhin ko ra sa Orchid Mansions.
kabisado ko na yan. Bilang taxi driver, Kilalang-kilala ang l
kilala ko ang mga lugar na ‘yon, isang four storey na
iyan at mga bisyo nila apartment. Tapos
greenbacks-teg ten dollars lahat.
(8)Kayo, Ma’am dib a sabi nyo titser Humugot ito ng isa at
kayo? Alam nyo ba sabi, “keep the change” wala raw s’yang
ang mga batang babae na ‘yan-kinse, tyempo. Para
disisais anyos? sabihin ko sa inyo, Ma’am buwan buway
Papasok ng eskwela ang mga ‘yan sa mas malaki
umaga na ang kinikita ko sa mga teenager na ito
nakauniporme. Pagkatapos ng eskwela, kaysa d’on sa
di uuwi ang nakikiapagbargain sa ‘kin na ‘wag na
mga ‘yan. May dalang damit ang mga raw ibaba ang
‘yan sa school metro pero naghihintay pa ng sukli
magpapalit ng suot, magmemeyk-up. nilang ten cents.
Walang alam ang Pwe! Binubwisit akong talaga ng iba sa
mga magulang nila. Sasabihin sa mama kanila. Pero
nila, may miting Itong mga batang ‘to walang tawaran.
daw, may sports o laro, may gano’n, Bayad lang nang
ganito, pero ang Bayad. At sobrang makikipagromansa
totoo e naglalakwatsa at kung anu- sa taxi, kaya di
anong kalokohan ang bale kung mag-iikot ka nang husto at
pinaggagawa singilin sila sa
metro!
(9)A, Ma’am, mukhang ayaw ninyong
maniniwala. Pero (10)Sabihin ko sa inyo, Ma’am, meron
dy’an na di
pinoproblema kung magkano ang
ginagasta sa taxi.
Ganito yon Ma’am: Paglampas ng ala-
una ng umaga,
Mas malaki ang kita. Doon ako
paparada sa labas ng
Elory Hotel o Tung Court o Orchid
Mansions at sigurado,
Ma’am ayos ang buto-buto. Noong
sabado, Ma’am,
walang biro-sa isang araw lang kumita
ako ng halos
one hundred fifty dollars! Ang iba ny’on,
para sa
serbisyo. May turista kasi na di alam
kung saan
pupunta, kaya ako na ang nagsasabi at
dinadala ko sila d’on.
Ekstrang kita din ‘yon. Ay, naku, Ma’am,
kung
Ikukw’ento ko sa inyo ang lahat, di tayo
matatapos
(11)Pero ito ang masasabi ko sa inyo.
Kung meron kayong
dalagita at sasabihin sa inyo, “Mommy,
may miting
kami sa iskwela ngayon at di ako uuwi,”
h’wag n’yonh
sasabihin, “Sige hija” pero usisain nyo
ang lahat.
Ngayo’y di ninyo mapagkakatiwalaan
ang mga bata,
Di tulad noon. Ay naku, Ma’am nasasabi
ko ito dahil
Ako mismo’y may dalagita. Mahal na
mahal ko ang
batang ito. Napakabait nya at ang sipag
mag-aral.
Nakikita ko ang report cards at ‘yong
sinusulat ng
Kanyang titser na “Very Good” o
“Excellent”, sa report
Cards nya. Nag-aaral sya sa bahay at
tumutulong sa
nanay nya. Pero minsay tinatamad at
sasabihin
n’ya, pinababalik daw s’ya ng titser sa
iskwela para
makapag-aaral pa, para maturuan pa sa
subject na
mahina siya – yon daw Math, Ma’am. At
ako naman,
pinayagan ko sya, at araw-araw, gabi na
siya umuwi,
tapos mag-aral, tuloy tulog. Isang araw-
naku, Ma’am
hanggang ngayoy ginagalit pa ako.
Isang araw, nagdadrive
ako ng taksi, parelaks-relaks lang, nang
may nakita
akong dalagita ng nakakahawig ng sa
aking Lay Choo,
may kasamang mga batang babae at
ilang Europeo sa
labas ng coffee shop. Sabi ko, hindi
pwedeng si
Lay Choo at ang isang ito e bihis na
bihis, nakameyk-ap
At magaslaw kumilos.Di ganon ang
anak ko. Tapos
Pumasok sila sa coffee shop. At ‘yong
puso ko sobra ang-
Pa’no nga sabihin ‘yon, Ma’am? Yong
puso ko, parang
Binabayo ng kung ano. Sabi ko,
mabantyagan nga, at
tingnan ko ang kalokohan nya. Nong
sumunod na
araw, nand’yon sa uli. Ipinarada ko ang
taxi ko,
Ma’am. Galit na galit ako noon. Sinugod
ko ang
Tarantadong anak ko at sinunggaban ko
sa balikat at
Leeg at saka pinagsasampal ko at
binugbog syang muli.
Estupida! Walang hiya! Pinilit ako ilayo
ng asawa ko
at ilang kapitbahay. Palagay ko’y
napatay ko ang batang
iyon kung di ako naawat.
(12)Tatlong araw kinulong sa kanyang
kwarto. Nahiya
akong sabihin sa kanyang titser kung
ano ang nangyari,
kaya sabi ko nalang may sakit si Lay
Choo, at kung
p’wede, i-excuse nya sa klase. Ay naku,
Ma’am. Anong
nararamdaman ninyo kung nasa lugar
ko kayo?
Pinababa n’ya ang kanyang sarili,
ganyon ang ama
N’yay maghapong pasada nang pasada
ng taksi para
Maipadala sya sa unibersidad.
(13)Ano ‘yon Ma’am? Oho, oho – okey
na ho ang lahat
Salamat. Di sya pwedeng lumabas ng
bahay, liban kung
Papasok sa iskwela at bilin ko sa ina
nya, check-in lagi
Ang ginagawa nyan at ‘yong mga
kabarkada nya, kung
anong klaseng mga ito. Ay, naku Ma’am
ang kabataan
ngayon – anong sakit ng ulo.
(14)Ano ‘yon Ma’am? A, sorry ho,
Ma’am di ko kayo
Mahihintay matapos ang inyong miting.
Kailangan
kong lumarga, kaya pasensya na ho.
Nagmamadali ako
Ma’am, papuntang Hotel Elory.
Maraming mga batang
Maisasakay. Kaya sorry nalang, Ma’am
at maraming
salamat.
TITLE: Ang Istorya Ng Taxi Driver
CHARACTERS: Taxi Driver, Passenger, and Lay Choo
SETTING: Inside the taxi, in Singapore
PLOT: A Taxi Driver with a female teacher passenger and he talks the change in the
Singapore, then he talks about his family, he talks his observations about youth and
prostitution, then he talks about his problem about his girl problem
CONFLICT: Man vs Society
THEME: Youth
TITLE: Without seeing the dawn
CHARACTERS: Carding, Lucing, Teniente Paul
SETTING: The story was happened in the suburbs of Iloilo, a barrio named Manhayang
in the town of Santa Barbara
PLOT: The novel Without Seeing the Dawn first published in 1947, is set in a small
farming village called Manhayang, Sta. Barbara, somewhere in Negros. Like most rural
barangays, the hardworking andclosely-knit village folk there had simple needs, simple wants,
and simple dreams. They were living theirown simple lives when the violence of war reached their
place and brought death to their village, theirhomes and their hearts.Here revolves the story of one
Ricardo Suerte, also called Carding, son of Juan Suerte. An industrious,strong and sometimes quick-
tempered young man, he aspired to marry sweet Lucia, the daughter of theteniente del barrio. Though
his father thought he was not yet prepared and had wished to send him toschool, he gave his blessing
to the decision of his son. He consented to asking Lucia s hand from herparents in the traditional
pamamanhikan, accompanied by the village s best orator and the godmotherof the lass.
After agreeing to the conditions of the village chief, the marriage was set. Tatay Juangathered up
almost all of his hard-earned savings for the dowry and expenses for the wedding feast.Meantime,
Carding excitedly built their house despite the advice of the elderly- that building one shouse in May
will bring misfortune to its inhabitants
CONFLICT: Man vs Society
POV
THEME
TITLE: The House of Spirits
CHARACTERS: Nívea, Clara, Blanca, and Alba
SETTING: Spain
PLOT: The story starts with the del Valle family, focusing upon the youngest and the
oldest daughters of the family, Clara and Rosa. The youngest daughter, Clara del Valle,
has paranormalpowers and keeps a detailed diary of her life. Using her powers, Clara
predicts an accidental death in the family. Shortly after this, Clara's sister, Rosa the
Beautiful, is killed by poison intended for her father who is running for the Senate.
Rosa's fiancé, a poor miner named Esteban Trueba, is devastated and attempts to
mend his broken heart by devoting his life to restoring his family hacienda, Las Tres
Marías, which has fallen into poverty and disrepair. He sends money to his spinster
sister who takes care of his arthritic mother in town. Through a combination of
intimidation and reward he quickly earns/forces respect and labor from the fearful
peasants and turns Tres Marías into a "model hacienda". He turns the first peasant who
spoke to him upon arrival, Pedro Segundo, into his foreman, who quickly becomes the
closest thing that Trueba ever has to an actual friend during his life. He rapes many of
the peasant women, and his first victim, Pancha García, becomes the mother of his
bastard son, Esteban García.
Esteban returns to the city to see his dying mother. After her death, Esteban decides to
fulfill her dying wish: for him to marry and have legitimate children. He goes to the Del
Valle family to ask for Clara's hand in marriage. Clara accepts Esteban's proposal; she
herself has predicted her engagement two months prior, speaking for the first time in
nine years. During the period of their engagement, Esteban builds what everyone calls
"the big house on the corner," a large mansion in the city where the Trueba family will
live for generations. After their wedding, Esteban's sister Férula comes to live with the
newlyweds in the big house on the corner. Férula develops a strong dedication to Clara,
which fulfills her need to serve others. However, Esteban's wild desire to possess Clara
and to monopolize her love causes him to throw Férula out of the house. She curses
him, telling him that he will shrink in body and soul, and die like a dog. Although she
misses her sister-in-law, Clara is unable to find her sister-in-law by any means and the
gap between her and her husband widens as she devotes her time to her daughter and
the mystic arts.
Clara gives birth to a daughter named Blanca and later, to twin boys Jaime and Nicolás.
The family, which resides in the capital, stays at the hacienda during the summertime.
Upon arriving at Tres Marías for the first time, Blanca immediately befriends a young
boy named Pedro Tercero, who is the son of her father's foreman. Blanca and Pedro
grow up together as best friends despite them being of two different social and
economic classes. During their teenage years, Blanca and Pedro Tercero eventually
become lovers. After an earthquake that destroys part of the hacienda and leaves
Esteban injured, the Truebas move permanently to Las Tres Marías. Clara spends her
time teaching, caring for her husbands battered body, and writing in her journals while
Blanca is sent to a convent school and the twin boys back to an English boarding
school, both of which are located in the city. Blanca fakes an illness so as to be sent
back to Las Tres Marías, where she can be with Pedro Tercero, but when she arrives
home she finds that Pedro Tercero has been banished from the hacienda by Esteban,
on account of his revolutionary communist/socialist ideas. Pedro Tercero meets with
Blanca in secret adopting disguises while also spreading his ideas in the form of song to
neighboring haciendas.
A visiting French count to the hacienda, Jean de Satigny, reveals Blanca's nightly romps
with Pedro Tercero to her father. Esteban furiously goes after his daughter and brutally
whips her. When Clara expresses horror at his actions, Esteban slaps her, knocking out
her front teeth. Clara decides to never speak to him again, reclaims her maiden name
and moves out of Tres Marías and back to the city, taking Blanca with her. Esteban,
furious and lonely, blames Pedro Tercero for the whole matter; putting a price on the
boy's head with the local corrupt police. At this point, Pedro Segundo deserts Esteban,
telling him he does not want to be around when Trueba inevitably catches his son.
Enraged by Pedro Segundo's departure, Trueba begins hunting for Pedro Tercero
himself, eventually tracking him down to a small shack near his hacienda. He only
succeeds in cutting off three of Pedro's fingers, and is filled with regret for his
uncontrollable furies.
Blanca finds out she is pregnant with Pedro Tercero's child. Esteban, desperate to save
the family honor, gets Blanca to marry the French count by telling her that he has killed
Pedro Tercero. At first, Blanca gets along with her new husband, but she leaves him
when she discovers his participation in sexual fantasies with the servants. Blanca
quietly returns to the Trueba household and names her daughter Alba. Clara predicts
that Alba will have a very happy future and good luck. Her future lover, Miguel, happens
to watch her birth, as he had been living in the Trueba House with his sister, Amanda.
They move out shortly after Alba's birth.
Esteban Trueba eventually moves to the Trueba house in the capital as well, although
he continues to spend periods of time in Tres Marías. He becomes isolated from every
member of his family except for little Alba, whom he is very fond of. Esteban runs as a
senator for the Conservative Party but is nervous about whether or not he will win. Clara
speaks to him, through signs, informing him that "those who have always won will win
again" – this becomes his motto. Clara then begins to speak to Esteban through signs,
although she keeps her promise and never actually speaks to him again. A few years
later, Clara dies peacefully and Esteban is overwhelmed with grief.
Alba is a solitary child who enjoys playing make-believe in the basement of the house
and painting the walls of her room. Blanca has become very poor since leaving Jean de
Satigny's house, getting a small income out of selling pottery and giving pottery classes
to mentally handicapped children, and is once again dating Pedro Tercero, now a
revolutionary singer/songwriter. Alba and Pedro are fond of each other, but do not know
they are father and daughter, although Pedro suspects this. Alba is also fond of her
uncles. Nicolás is eventually kicked out by his father, moving, supposedly, to North
America.
When she is older, Alba attends a local college where she meets Miguel, now a grown
man, and becomes his lover. Miguel is a revolutionary, and out of love for him, Alba
involves herself in student protests against the conservative government. After the
victory of the People's Party (a socialist movement), Alba celebrates with Miguel.
Fearing a Communist dictatorship, Esteban Trueba and his fellow politicians plan a
military coup of the socialist government. However, when the military coup is set into
action, the military men relish their power and grow out of control. Esteban's son Jaime
is killed by power-driven soldiers along with other supporters of the government. After
the coup, people are regularly kidnapped and tortured. Esteban helps Blanca and Pedro
Tercero flee to Canada, where the couple finally find their happiness.
The military regime attempts to eliminate all traces of opposition and eventually comes
for Alba. She is made the prisoner of Colonel Esteban García, the son of Esteban
Trueba's and Pancha Garcia's illegitimate son, and hence the grandson of Esteban
Trueba. During an earlier visit to the Trueba house, García had molested Alba as a
child. In pure hatred of her privileged life and eventual inheritance, García tortures Alba
repeatedly, looking for information on Miguel. He rapes her, thus completing the cycle
that Esteban Trueba put into motion when he raped Pancha García. When Alba loses
her will to live, she is visited by Clara's spirit who tells her not to wish for death, since it
can easily come, but to wish to live.
Esteban Trueba manages to free Alba with the help of Miguel and Tránsito Soto, an old
friend/prostitute from his days as a young man. After helping Alba write their memoir,
Esteban Trueba dies in the arms of Alba, accompanied by Clara's spirit; he is smiling,
having avoided Férula's prophecy that he will die like a dog. Alba explains that she will
not seek vengeance on those who have injured her, suggesting a hope that one day the
human cycle of hate and revenge can be broken. Alba writes the book to pass time
while she waits for Miguel and for the birth of her child.

CONFLICT: Man vs Society

POV:
THEME:
LITERARY ANALYSIS
ARLEIN PRINCESS MERCADO
STUDENT

DR. ANABELLE BIGORNIA

PROFFESSOR