He passed by the Casa Tribunal, an ordinary building of nipa, bamboo, and hardwood—but unusually comfortable-looking for a building of its kind. The barrio, it was said, looked like a typical Bisayan town of the better class, with well-kept shops looked after by its Chinese merchants.
He went to the sea and consulted his map. Where could he find the portrait of the beautiful mestiza? Only then did he realize it was not about a portrait at all, but about a real-living woman—and not just a casual mestiza, but the one he had just let go. By nightfall, he had returned to the paseo and saw the guardia civil lighting each wicker lamp one by one. They cast a comfortable glow to the seaside paseo, the sugar mansions resplendent in both the moonlight and the lamplight. Quickly, he opened the gates
