1

Wilfredo Ma. Guerrero

Condemned FR. LIM: The execution is set—?
To the Memory of Fernando Poe Sr.
WARDEN: Within an hour. Exactly at six.
First Performance: Capitol Theater, under the direction of
Fernando Poe Sr. November 27, 1943 to January 20, 1944. FR. LIM: May I see him now?

CHARACTERS: WARDEN: Certainly. I’ll bring him out.

PABLO GONZALEZ FR. LIM: Here?

ANGELA GONZALEZ (his mother)
CRISTINA (his fiancée) WARDEN: Yes, it’s permissible. One moment.
TIA CHEDENG (his aunt)
ANDRES GOROSPE (an old friend) (WARDEN goes to rear door, opens it. PABLO is seen through the
SIMEON SERENO (another friend) bars, seated on a bench, his bead in his bands.)
FATHER LIM (prison chaplain)
WARDEN WARDEN: Father Lim is here.

TIME: An hour before the execution. (WARDEN opens cell, leads PABLO out into the waiting-room,
closing rear door.)
SCENE: The prison waiting-room. A door at the rear which, when
opened, reveals the bars of the death cell. Another door on right FR. LIM: Pablo!
side of stage. Two high, small windows with bars on rear walls,
through which the sky can be seen. PABLO: Father!

When the curtain rises, the stage is completely dark, except for the
lighted candle. The metal rustling of heavy keys is heard.
Presently, the right door opens. FATHER LIM and the WARDEN
appear. FATHER LIM is about forty, brisk-mannered but soft-voiced.
He carries a breviary in one hand, and a small bag in another.
(PABLO GONZALEZ is twenty-four. He’s tall, well-built. His
sufferings can be seen in his tense manly features, in his dark
piercing eyes, and in the tight expression of his mouth. His
movements are quick and nervous. He wears the orange uniform
with a large cross at the back. His hair is cropped.)

WARDEN: Come right in, Father. The prisoner has been waiting for PABLO: I’ve been expecting you! Any news, Father?
you.
(FR. LIM shakes his head.)
FR. LIM: How is he?
FR. LIM: None, my son. I’ve tried—God knows how much—
WARDEN: He’s calm and quiet, Father. He slept well.
 2

PABLO: I understand, Father.

WARDEN: Not yet. But there’s a young girl—
(Right door opens, WARDEN appears.)
PABLO: A young girl?
WARDEN: Mr. Gonzalez—any last request you wish to make? I mean,
any kind of food or drink you might want? WARDEN: Dressed in black.

PABLO: Can I ask anything? PABLO: (to himself) Cristina.

WARDEN: Anything—within reason. FR. LIM: Your—?

PABLO: A bottle of whiskey—could I ask for a bottle of whiskey? (PABLO nods, bitterly.)

FR. LIM: (smiling) Whiskey? WARDEN: Shall I let her in?

PABLO: You see, Father, I could not afford to drink it before—I got PABLO: No—not yet. I’ll let you know.
used to the cheap ginebra and tuba. I’ve always dreamt of being
able someday—to drink whiskey, a whole bottle. (WARDEN proceeds to the door.)

WARDEN: Anything more? WARDEN: If you want anything, Father, I shall be just outside the
door.
PABLO: Yes. Two glasses.
(WARDEN goes out. FR. LIM sits on bench beside the table; PABLO
WARDEN: Isn’t there anything you want with the whiskey? remains standing, staring in front of him.)

PABLO: Yes. Make it three glasses. We’ll all drink. FR. LIM: Pablo—(He doesn’t answer.) Pablo!

(WARDEN and FR. LIM look at each other comprehendingly.) PABLO: (as if waking up) Forgive me, Father, I was thinking—

WARDEN: What I mean, Mr. Gonzalez—is there any food you might FR. LIM: Take a seat. (PABLO sits down.) What were you thinking
want? of, my son?

PABLO: Food? No, nothing more. PABLO: I was thinking—I can’t believe it—that I should be here
condemned to be hung in an hour—at the age of twenty-four. (He
WARDEN: Very well. (He is about to go.) covers his face.)

PABLO: Warden, has my aunt arrived? FR. LIM: Be calm, Pablo. I went to see the governor for a reprieve—

a few days more at least—but he said he couldn’t do anything.
PABLO: Father—(Suddenly he breaks down and puts his head on
edge of table. FR. LIM goes back to his seat.) Father—do you think
-?
FR. LIM: Yes—
PABLO: What you said last night—that God could forgive me—
forgive me after all I’ve done?
FR. LIM: My son, Christ has said that if your sins are as scarlet they
shall be as white as snow—if you ask his forgiveness.
(PABLO impulsively kneels in front of FR. LIM. PABLO hesitates, and
stands up.)
FR. LIM: God’s mercy is infinite, my son.
PABLO: No, I can’t. Not yet.
FR. LIM: As you wish, Pablo.
PABLO: If my mother had only taught me to believe and to pray.
But she never did—that’s why I’m here now.
FR. LIM: Your mother still living?
PABLO: Yes, but I hope I don’t see her again!
FR. LIM: Why?
PABLO: What’s the use, Father? It’s a long story.
FR. LIM: While entering the prison gate, I noticed a woman standing
on the sidewalk and looking toward the cells. It could be a mere
coincidence, but a certain resemblance—
3
PABLO: Is she tall?
FR. LIM: Yes, rather. And wearing a colored dress.
PABLO: Curly hair?
FR. LIM: (wondering) Now that I come to think of it—yes. Her face
was—or—
PABLO: Covered with too much paint?
(FR. LIM nods gravely.)
FR. LIM: Wearing earrings and bracelets.
PABLO: That’s her all right. I wonder why she’s here.
FR. LIM: Don’t you expect a mother to see her son?
PABLO: I don’t want to see her!
FR. LIM: Pablo—what you told me a moment ago—that your mother
never taught you to believe and to pray—is that the reason you
don’t want to see her?
PABLO: (looking at him) That, Father—and more. But let’s not talk
about it. I want to rest a little. I’m tired—and a little nervous. I
hope you don’t mind.
FR. LIM: No, no, of course you should he down for a while. You
want me to go?
PABLO: No, not yet, Father. Will you read me something—? My
heart is so weary. Perhaps your books could give me some comfort.
FR. LIM: I’ve two books here. The Confessions of St. Augustine and

Kempis’ The Following of Christ.
PABLO: The second book—yes.
(FR. LIM opens the book at random and starts reading.)
FR. LIM: (reading aloud—from Book One, Chapter 12) “It is good for
us now and then to have some troubles and adversities; for
oftentimes they make a man enter unto himself, that he may know
that he is an exile, and place not his hopes in anything of the
world... Therefore, ought a man so firmly to establish himself in
God, as to have no need of seeking many human consolations...
Then is he weary of longer fife; and wisheth death to come, that he
may be dissolved, and be with Christ. Then also he well perceiveth,
that perfect security and full peace cannot be realized in this
world.”
PABLO: That is good, Father. But my eyes—they are weary.
FR. LIM: I shall continue reading it for you, if you wish.
PABLO: Yes, yes. In my cell.
(Both exit. WARDEN enters, carrying a bottle and several glasses on
a tray which he places on a table. ANDRES GOROSPE, a childhood
friend of PABLO, also enters.)
WARDEN: The chaplain is in with him now.
ANDRES: I shall wait.
(ANDRES GOROSPE is twenty-six. He has settled down early in life.
A childhood friend of PABLO, ANDRES has never asked much from
life, his ambitions are few and modest. ANDRES has quiet manners
and speaks rather slowly. He is attired in a simple suit and wears a
tie. WARDEN is about to open the rear door.)
4
ANDRES: No, don’t bother him just yet. Can I ask a few questions?
(WARDEN nods.)
ANDRES: I’ve just arrived from the province. All I know is from the
morning papers. I can hardly believe it’s true. Can you tell me why
he murdered that man?
WARDEN: It seems this fellow—the victim—annoyed the prisoner’s
girl once. During the trial the prisoner testified that he was not a
jealous person by temperament, but that when this other fellow
went to the extreme of laying his hands on her—he vowed revenge
—and killed him.
ANDRES: Was that sufficient reason to give him the death penalty?
WARDEN: Many other circumstances aggravated his case. For one
thing the murder was deliberate—it was done in the evening—and
he purposely got drunk—
ANDRES: What weapon did he use?
WARDEN: A knife. About a foot long. It pierced the man’s heart.
ANDRES: Pablo used to be so afraid of a knife!
WARDEN: The prisoner afraid of a knife?
ANDRES: Oh, I’m talking of the time we were children.
WARDEN: He pleaded guilty.
ANDRES: How strange. If I could only help him—
WARDEN: Too late now. In less than an hour—
ANDRES: Er—this girl—

WARDEN: What girl?
ANDRES: The girl you mentioned—the one Pablo killed the man for—
WARDEN: She’s the one out there (pointing to right door) wearing a
black dress.
ANDRES: I can’t understand how Pablo—And then the death penalty
— PABLO: (recognizing him and shaking hands) Ah, yes, I remember
WARDEN: But you see, he had had previous convictions—estafa,
disorderly conduct, assault against constituted authority—
ANDRES: Estafa, too?
WARDEN: A year ago he forged a check for two hundred thousand
pesos. He was an inveterate gambler, you know.
ANDRES: I didn’t know.
WARDEN: You wish to see him now? You’re allowed five minutes.
ANDRES: Yes. Thank you.
(WARDEN opens rear door. We see the chaplain reading to PABLO
who’s sitting on a bench with his face buried in his hands. He looks
up.)
WARDEN: A visitor, Mr. Gonzalez.
(PABLO stands, goes out, WARDEN closing door.)
WARDEN: The whiskey is here, Mr. Gonzalez.
PABLO: Thank you.
5
(WARDEN goes out.)
ANDRES: Pablo.
PABLO: (trying to remember) I don’t—
ANDRES: Don’t you remember me, Pablo? Andres—we were
childhood friends. We used to play escondite, remember?
now.
ANDRES: (both sit down) You used to push me into the river,
remember?—whenever we played near the bridge. Have you
forgotten?
PABLO: No, Andres. I haven’t forgotten. I only wish we were
children again. We were happy then, weren’t we? (ANDRES nods
sadly, evading his gaze.) You’re the only friend who has come to
see me. The others—my so-called friends—I haven’t seen them
since the trial.
ANDRES: They are probably busy.
PABLO: (laughing grimly) Yes, too busy evading me. But your
coming, Andres, is a complete surprise to me. I mean—I didn’t
expect you --
ANDRES: I arrived from Isabela yesterday—I came to Manila on
business. I knew nothing about—about this—until I read the papers
last night.
PABLO: I’m glad you came, Andres.
ANDRES: There’s a young lady outside. She should have come in
first, but when she was near the door she turned to me and told me
to go ahead. Is she—your wife?

PABLO: (shaking his head) No. We were to be married when this
happened.
ANDRES: Is there anything I can do, Pablo? Anything?
PABLO: Thank you, Andres. No, there’s nothing you can do now.
ANDRES: But I can’t understand—when I saw you last—we were in
the sixth grade—my father was appointed provincial treasurer of
Batangas, so we had to move there.
PABLO: I chose the wrong path, that’s all. Tell me, are you
married?
ANDRES: Yes, and with two children. I should like you to meet my
wife. (Suddenly they stare at each other, at the ironic impossibility
of the wish.)
PABLO: What are you doing now?
ANDRES: I’m a doctor. I’m assistant head of the Isabela Provincial
Hospital.
PABLO: Are you happy?
ANDRES: I have no complaints. I’ve a little house of my own.
PABLO: You’ve gone far, Andres. And where am I now?
ANDRES: Pablo—just a suggestion—why don’t you—the girl outside—
PABLO: Yes—
ANDRES: Have you thought of marrying her?
PABLO: Now?
6
ANDRES: Why not?
PABLO: And destroy her future?
ANDRES: If you love her—
PABLO: I do—No, I can’t marry her now!
ANDRES: Does she love you? (PABLO stares at him and nods
bitterly.)
PABLO: That’s just it. She does. I’ve been very selfish all my life—
ANDRES: She wouldn’t care—
PABLO: Maybe not now—but later—she’ll regret it. Why make her
the widow of a murderer?
ANDRES: Tell me, Pablo—your father died when we were still in
school?
PABLO: Yes, and after his death I lived with an old aunt, Tia
Chedeng but when I was fourteen I ran away.
ANDRES: You—you used a knife, they say. You were so afraid—of a
knife when you were a kid.
PABLO: Yes, I was afraid of many other things besides. I didn’t
gamble, I didn’t drink.
ANDRES: What happened?
PABLO: I don’t know. I grew up without discipline. I was allowed to
steal small sums of money—to gamble on street comers—to smoke
under the bridge. And when I grew older—the wrong friends—the
lack of faith in anyone or anything—the bitterness—
 7

WARDEN: Time is up, Mr. Gorospe.

ANDRES: Your mother still alive?
(WARDEN goes out.)
PABLO: Yes.
ANDRES: Pablo—(Both shake hands warmly.)
ANDRES: Is she here?
PABLO: Thanks for coming, Andres. I’m happy to die knowing that
PABLO: I hope not! at least I have a friend.

ANDRES: (not understanding him) I understand. It’s best, I suppose.
PABLO: You are mistaken, Andres. I hope never to see her again!
ANDRES: Your own mother? But—
(WARDEN enters.)
ANDRES: Goodbye—(He breaks down momentarily, but quickly pulls
himself together.) Goodbye. (Hastily he goes out, WARDEN enters.)
WARDEN: Half an hour left, Mr. Gonzalez. You wish to rest a little?
PABLO: (with a brief, grim laugh) Rest now? I’ve all eternity to rest
in, Warden.

WARDEN: There’s a man who insists on seeing you, but he has no (SIMEON enters. He’s about twenty-five, in drab trousers and pants,
pass. his hair is tousled. He is smoking a cigarette. PABLO doesn’t see
him at first.)
PABLO: Did he give his name?
SIMEON: (to WARDEN) Do you mind leaving us alone? (PABLO glares
WARDEN: Yes. Simeon Sereno. (PABLO, from the expression on his at SIMEON resentfully.)
face, recognizes the visitor, and his smile has a tinge of bitter
contempt.) WARDEN: (to PABLO) You wish to see him? (PABLO doesn’t answer,
but his silence is taken for consent. WARDEN leaves quietly.)
PABLO: No, I don’t want to see him.
SIMEON: I read in the papers—
(WARDEN nods, goes out.)
PABLO: I didn’t want to see you. You’re partly to blame for my
ANDRES: Somebody you know? being here.

PABLO: He’s one of my companions from the past who dragged me SIMEON: Don’t be too hard on me, Pablo.
to the gutter.
PABLO: You taught me many of the evil things I learned.
(WARDEN comes in.)
SIMEON: I regret it deeply.

PABLO: Your—regret—will it save me from the chair?
SIMEON: If I could do something—
PABLO: What can you do—now?
SIMEON: You say I taught you many evil things. That’s true. But I
too had been taught in my younger years by other friends.
PABLO: You pretended to be my friend.
SIMEON: I’ve always been your friend, Pablo.
PABLO: That’s why, I suppose, you never came to see me during
the trial.
SIMEON: How should I have known you wanted to see me? I didn’t
dare.
PABLO: You were my closest friend—the one I trusted most. We
were partners in drinking, gambling, and women—and that doesn’t
merit the word friendship?
SIMEON: True, Pablo—and yet—I think you’re being unfair to me.
PABLO: Unfair?
SIMEON: (sitting) You have a mother. You are lucky—to have one.
My mother died when I was five, my father a year before that. I
was raised in an orphanage, but I escaped when I was twelve—and
since then—I’ve been alone in this world! To have a mother—how
sweet and beautiful it must be. When I was a kid, I’d sometimes
have fights with other kids—whenever I got licked, I’d cry—but I
had no one to dry my tears. I still remember the garden in the
orphanage—how often I’d run to a comer of that garden—there was
a bench behind some thick bushes—and there I would weep quietly.
8
That’s why I grew up to be bitter.
(PABLO has gone near him and has gently put his band on his
shoulder.)
PABLO: (gently) You never told me this.
SIMEON: (bitterly) Each one of us carries a secret in his heart which
he can’t reveal to anyone.
PABLO: To have a mother—how sweet and beautifully consoling it
must be. Yes, how wonderful it must be.
(SIMEON stares at him.)
SIMEON: She’s still alive? (PABLO nods.) Then—?
PABLO: I, too, have my secrets, Simeon.
(SIMEON stands up.)
SIMEON: I’m leaving for Palawan tomorrow.
PABLO: Palawan?
SIMEON: I have a job at the Leper Colony.
PABLO: Among—the lepers?
SIMEON: Among the lepers—I met a nice and fine girl two months
ago.
PABLO: She’s working there?
SIMEON: She’s going to live there.
PABLO: Live there? But why?

SIMEON: She has—leprosy.
PABLO: Leprosy!
SIMEON: I am going with her—that’s why I’ve decided to work
there, too.
PABLO: You love her, Simeon?
SIMEON: Yes. And I want to expiate my past.
PABLO: But why go to that extreme?
SIMEON: Great crimes, Pablo, demand great expiations.
PABLO: (suddenly shaking Simeon’s hand) Forgive me, Simeon! I see
you’re a better man than I am.
SIMEON: No, Pablo, I’m no better than you are—I’m worse. But to
this girl I owe the change. I was spiritually and morally dead—and
she brought me back to life.
PABLO: We’ve never been so close to each other as we are now.
SIMEON: Now we can part—not with bitter reproaches and
resentment—but with complete understanding.
(Hastily SIMEON breaks away and rushes out. PABLO, shaken, sits
and buries his face in his hands. WARDEN enters.)
WARDEN: Chedeng Gonzalez to see you.
PABLO: Tia Chedeng! Let her in.
(WARDEN goes out. CHEDENG enters. She is an old woman of sixty.
White-haired, with a wrinkled but kindly face. She stoops a little.
9
She wears saya and camisa, her shoulders covered with a panwelo.
PABLO kisses her hand.)
PABLO: Tia Chedeng! (Leads her to a chair, be sitting beside her
and holding her bands.) I am so happy you came.
TIA CHEDENG: I did not want to come today—I told you yesterday,
but—
PABLO: I wouldn’t have forgiven you if you didn’t come today, Tia.
TIA CHEDENG: I tried, Pablo, I tried to see the president—but I
couldn’t find him in his office nor in his house. I have failed.
PABLO: No matter, Tia, no matter now.
TIA CHEDENG: Yesterday you asked me to get you some mangoes. I
promised I would get you some, but—October is not the season for
mangoes.
PABLO: How silly of me, Tia.
TIA CHEDENG: Pablo, I failed you in everything. If only I had not let
you go years ago—but then you ran away—
PABLO: Why blame yourself, Tia? It was my fault. If only I had
stayed with you—how different things would have been.
(Suddenly TIA CHEDENG bows her bead, bites her lips, as tears roll
down her cheeks. PABLO caresses her hands. Presently she takes
something from her handkerchief.)
TIA CHEDENG: Wear this. (Gives him a small crucifix with a chain.
She puts it around his neck.)
PABLO: Thank you, Tia. How can I repay you for all your kindness?

TIA CHEDENG: Only one thing, Pablo, my dear, will make me
happy. What I’ve been asking you these last few days.
PABLO: Father Lim read me The Following of Christ a while ago.
TIA CHEDENG: I don’t mean that, Pablo.
PABLO: You mean, confession? (She nods.) I don’t know, Tia. It’s
too early yet—
TIA CHEDENG: It might be too late, Pablo! (WARDEN enters.)
WARDEN: Sorry. Time is up.
TIA CHEDENG: (rising) Thank you, I was just going. (WARDEN goes
out.)
PABLO: (holding her hands) Tia—did you see somebody waiting
outside?
TIA CHEDENG: Have you seen Cristina?
PABLO: I don’t mean her.
TIA CHEDENG: Your—mother? (He nods.) I saw her waiting on the
sidewalk. But you know we have not been on speaking terms all
these years. Has she seen you?
PABLO: I don’t want to see her!
TIA CHEDENG: Forgive her, Pablo. A mother remains a mother,
whatever her faults.
PABLO: If she had been a true mother, I wouldn’t be here!
TIA CHEDENG: Your father’s death left her embittered and lonely.
10
PABLO: No, I can’t forgive her! (WARDEN enters again.)
WARDEN: Very little time left, Mr. Gonzalez. The girl wants to see
you. (WARDEN goes out.)
PABLO: Tia—forgive me for all the pains I’ve given you.
TIA CHEDENG: I shall wait outside. And I shall be praying. (She
kisses him on the brow.)
PABLO: Farewell, Tia, and pray for me!
TIA CHEDENG: All my life, son, all my life.
(WARDEN opens door, as TIA CHEDENG runs out without looking
back. PABLO sits down, very tired. CRISTINA enters. WARDEN closes
door. CRISTINA is about twenty-one, dressed in black. She is pale,
but pretty; shy and quiet; her voice soft. With her hands clasped on
her breast, she stands beside the door, staring at PABLO. Presently
he notices her presence.)
PABLO: (without rising) Cristina! (She advances toward him.)
CRISTINA: We have so little time left, Pablo. (He makes her sit
down, sitting beside her.)
PABLO: What can we say to each other?
CRISTINA: I just want to say—I’ll always love you.
PABLO: I’m not worthy of you, Cristina.
CRISTINA: If you really love me don’t go—away—without—
PABLO: Without marrying you? Can’t you see it would be unfair to
you? I should like to marry you now, even if I’m about to—(CRISTINA
puts her band on his mouth.)

CRISTINA: Let’s not think what the next few moments will bring. (A
long pause during which they dare not look at each other.)
PABLO: (talking almost to himself) For the first time in my life I
know what real love is—the deep silent affection, the quiet
understanding, the feeling of gentle gratitude, the sense of being
alive—(bitterly) yes, alive. Neither a mother’s nor a woman’s love I
have known. Early in life I soiled my mind with unworthy thoughts—
my mouth with drink and dirty language—my heart polluted with
petty desires my hands with stealing, gambling—and now, murder!
And then you came. Cristina, you came into my sordid, lonely life—
and cleansed my mind and soul and brightened my world. Until that
night—
CRISTINA: Why, oh God, why? If only I hadn’t been walking alone
that night—
PABLO: When you told me the next morning how that fellow had
tried to rape you! I forgot myself—I forgot you—I forgot everything!
—I only knew I had to wipe away the insult—
CRISTINA: But why with blood, Pablo? You shouldn’t have—
PABLO: With blood, yes—because it was the only way. That insult
had to be wiped away with blood! If we get married now—what can
I offer you? Nothing. Premature widowhood—the name of a
murderer—a few memories of what might have been.
CRISTINA: What do I get? Widowhood—yes, but also the assurance
of your heart and mine faithful unto the end and for always. A few
memories—I wish there had been more!—but still memories I shall
cherish all through eternity.
PABLO: After I am—after this is over—you’ll forget me—
CRISTINA: I shan’t be able to forget, Pablo!
11
PABLO: If someday you should meet a better fellow—who can offer
you a better future—you’ll be glad you didn’t marry me, that you
were free.
(She weeps quietly on his shoulders. FR. LIM appears.)
FR. LIM: It’s nearly time, my son. (PABLO and CRISTINA look at each
other.)
PABLO: Father—this is Cristina. (FR. LIM nods to her.) Father—could
we—
FR. LIM: Yes?
PABLO: Could you marry us—now? (FR. LIM looks from one to the
other.) It’s the last favor I ask of you, Father! Could you?
FR. LIM: But—
PABLO: Yes, I know I’m going to die in a few minutes.
CRISTINA: We love each other, Father.
FR. LIM: Have you known each other long?
PABLO: Seven months—
FR. LIM: But at this moment—
CRISTINA: I want to marry him—even at this moment.
FR. LIM: Time is short. We shall need two witnesses.
PABLO: My Tia Chedeng is outside. (FR. LIM goes out, right door.)
Are you sure, Cristina, you want this?

CRISTINA: Surer than ever. (FR. LIM. returns with TIA CHEDENG and
ANDRES, followed by the WARDEN. The following scene is all
pantomime with musical background. FR. LIM puts on surplice,
opens breviary. PABLO and CRISTINA are ordered to kneel down,
ANDRES and TIA CHEDENG standing beside them. The WARDEN
stands near the right door. The mumbling of prayers by the priest is
indistinctly heard. As the ceremony progresses, CRISTINA little by
little loses poise, covers her face as PABLO holds her by the
shoulders. The ceremony over, TIA CHEDENG kisses CRISTINA who is
weeping silently.)
PABLO: (seeing the bottle of whiskey) I almost forgot! The bottle of
whiskey! Let’s all celebrate! (He looks at the others who remain
glum. He stares at CRISTINA who has her eyes down.)
(PABLO gulps down his share, but suddenly throws the glass on the
floor, breaking it. He sits down and leaning on the table, breaks
down. CRISTINA goes near him and he puts his arm around her waist
briefly. WARDEN, after an awkward pause, touches PABLO on the
shoulder.)
WARDEN: Five minutes left. (Suddenly voices are beard outside.
WARDEN runs to the door. His voice is heard off stage). You can’t
get in without a pass!
ANGELA: (outside) Let me in! Let me in! (Everybody looks towards
the door.)
WARDEN: (outside) Who are you?
ANGELA: (outside) I am his mother! (PABLO’s reaction is to be
imagined.)
WARDEN: (outside) But you don’t have a pass!
ANGELA: (outside) He’s my son—and I have the right
12
PABLO: (quietly) Warden, will you let her in?
(ANGELA enters, stands near door.)
WARDEN: Is she your mother?
PABLO: She used to be. (They all look at him.)
FR. LIM: (going to rear door) I shall wait in here. (He goes out.
PABLO embraces CRISTINA briefly.)
PABLO: Wait for me, dearest. I shall call you. (PABLO kisses TIA
CHEDENG’s hand.) Tia, will you take care of Cristina for me? (TIA
CHEDENG nods. PABLO shakes ANDRES’ hand.) Stand by them, will
you, Andres? (CRISTINA supports TIA CHEDENG, and all go out,
closing door behind them. ANGELA GONZALEZ takes a few steps
forward, extreme front stage, right. PABLO stands an extreme left,
front. ANGELA is over forty-five, but is trying to retain her faded
youth and beauty by the overuse of cosmetics. There is an air of
bad taste and vulgarity about her, accentuated by her gaudy
colored dress and the use of big bracelets and earrings. Her voice is
husky.)
PABLO: (without looking at her) What do you want?
ANGELA: I wanted to see you.
PABLO: What for? To offer me your sympathy? Thanks. I don’t need
it. You didn’t try to see me during the trial.
ANGELA. I couldn’t. I was—ashamed.
PABLO: Ashamed? And aren’t you ashamed to be here now?
ANGELA: I am your mother, Pablo.
PABLO: The woman I used to call mother died when—after Father’s

death, she lived with Marcos Nable.
ANGELA: You hate me so.
PABLO: I don’t hate you. My feelings for you are what I would feel
for a stranger.
ANGELA: I have left him—I left Marcos for good.
PABLO: And so you came here—to feel pride in your work.
ANGELA: I don’t understand—
PABLO: If I’m here now—if I’m condemned to the chair—it’s
because of you!
ANGELA: Me!
PABLO: Yes, you! Have you ever been a mother to me? Did you ever
give me any care or attention? Isn’t it true that you spent all your
time gambling while you left me with Tia Chedeng? When Father
was sick and dying—weren’t you out gambling?
ANGELA: I fed you, clothed you—
PABLO: And you thought you had done your duty! You thought that
in bringing me into this world your work was finished! It had only
begun!
ANGELA: What did you want me to do?
PABLO: Did you ever correct my faults? Did you care who my
companions and playmates were? Did you ever check me from
committing petty thefts—correct my bad language—my bad
tendencies?
ANGELA: I really tried, I—
13
PABLO: And did you ever teach me to fear God? (Pause) Tia
Chedeng taught me a few prayers which I quickly forgot because I
ran away. My faults became habits—and my bad habits enslaved
me.
ANGELA: I wasn’t to blame—try to understand, my son—
PABLO: Son! You dare call me your son! And a few months after
Father’s death—I was ten then—you fell in love with Marcos Nable—
lived with him—pueh! my own mother!
ANGELA: I left him.
PABLO: And may I know why? Not that it matters.
ANGELA: When I read about your sentence a few weeks ago—I—I
realized that—I had done wrong--
PABLO: In the meantime what had you done to me? You broke my
ideals—tore away my faith—you filled me with bitterness -- the
bitterness of a son who’s ashamed of his own mother!
ANGELA: (going near him) Pablo! Have pity!
PABLO: Pity! You never had any for me! You sent me out into the
world without faith—without anchor—without dreams! I wandered
alone—and lonely—without a home—until I met Cristina—the girl
I’ve just married.
ANGELA: Married! (Looking back towards right door remembering
CRISTINA.)
PABLO: And now that I’m about to die—how I wish to have my own
mother at my side—to be able to tell her how sorry I am—to be able
to part from this life with a mother’s kiss. But no! It’s my own
mother who has sent me here!

ANGELA: Pablo! Pablo, my son!
PABLO: Tears! How can your tears move me now when I drowned
my own tears in drink?
(ANGELA slowly raises herself up. PABLO covers his face with his
hands. There is an expression of determination on ANGELA’s face.
Slowly and quietly, she takes off her earrings, bracelets, rings, and
gently puts them on the table. She also tries to wipe off the
cosmetics on her face. When she speaks, her voice is low and soft.)
ANGELA: Listen to what I have to say. I was forced to marry your
father against my will. I didn’t love him and he knew it. It wasn’t
my fault! My family shouldn’t have opposed my marriage to the
man I really loved. To forget my unhappiness I turned to gambling
and to pleasure. That kept me away from your father. I didn’t want
a baby, you might as well know, so when you came—well, I just left
you to the care of servants. (Her voice rising.) But few knew that
our married life was unhappy. And when your father died, I sought
an outlet for my lonely years—
PABLO: Tia Chedeng wanted to make me believe Father’s death
had made you lonely and bitter—yes, but for different reasons.
ANGELA: I left you in Tia Chedeng’s care, then. She wanted you.
When you were eleven—that was the time I met Marcos. Tia
Chedeng knew about my unhappy marriage with your father.
PABLO: She knew and never told me.
ANGELA: I’ve told you everything! Now condemn me if you dare!
PABLO: If I could believe you—I would ask you—to take care of
Cristina for me—but no, it’s impossible! Too late!
ANGELA: Yes, son, let me take care of her! I’ll be a real mother to
14
her—what I haven’t been to you!
PABLO: If I could die with the word “Mother” on my lips—if I could
call you Mother! (Desperately.) God in heaven, why, can’t I call you
Mother? (Right door opens, WARDEN comes in.)
WARDEN: Time’s up! The officials await you in your cell.
ANGELA: Not yet—not yet! (FR. LIM appears.)
FR. LIM: We must start, Pablo.
(PABLO stares at the WARDEN and FR. LIM as if in a trance.)
WARDEN: If you wish to see your wife
PABLO: My wife? Oh, Cristina. Yes—no—never mind. Why hurt her
more? (Turning to FR. LIM) Father—I am—afraid—to die.
FR. LIM: Don’t doubt God’s mercy. His mercy is as wide and as deep
as the ocean.
PABLO: Father—will you hear my confession? (FR. LIM nods, as
PABLO kneels in front of him. Music. Stage becomes dark. FR. LIM
gives the absolution.) Let’s go!
ANGELA: My son!
(PABLO looks at her with compassion in his eyes, makes a gesture
of bending towards her, but turns abruptly, and goes out through
rear door with WARDEN, closing door behind them. Bells begin to
toll outside. The door opens. CRISTINA, TIA CHEDENG, and ANDRES
rush in.)
CRISTINA: (rushing to rear door and banging it repeatedly) Pablo!
Wait! (Stage is darkened as bell continue tolling. CRISTINA breaks
down and collapses in front of rear door, a figure of utter
 15

dejection. TIA CHEDENG sits on chair, with ANDRES behind her.

Music continues. ANGELA stands, front right, with hands folded
tightly and bead down, as if praying. TIA CHEDENG prays with a
rosary in her hands. The pause continues for twenty seconds,
interrupted only by CRISTINA’s sobs. Suddenly the bells cease
tolling. Another pause of fifteen seconds. Steps are heard. All raise
their eyes toward rear door in an attitude of expectation. Rear
door opens, FR. LIM appears, closes door. CRISTINA and ANGELA
come nearer with a gesture of supplication.)

FR. LIM: It’s all over. His last words were—his last words—

CRISTINA and ANGELA. Yes—?

FR. LIM: “Cristina”—(Here CRISTINA sobs.)—“Tia” —

ANGELA: Was that—all?

FR. LIM: (staring at her)—and “Mother.” He whispered, like a

prayer, the word “Mother”—twice.

ANGELA: Mother—twice.

(As CRISTINA breaks into sobs, ANGELA bends over and enfolds her
in her arms. TIA CHEDENG makes the sign of the cross.)

CURTAIN