“I want to talk with that young man,” said the general to one of his aids; “he rouses all my interest.”

“He has been sent for, my general; but there is here another young man of Manila who insists upon seeing you. We told him you have not the time; that you did not come to give audiences. He replied that Your Excellency has always the time to do justice.”

The general, perplexed, turned to the alcalde.

“If I am not mistaken,” said the alcalde, with an inclination of the head, “it is a student who this morning had trouble with Father DÁmaso about the sermon.”

“Another still? Has this monk started out to put the province to revolt, or does he think he commands here? Admit the young man!” And the governor got up and walked nervously back and forth.

In the ante-chamber some Spanish officers and all the functionaries of the pueblo were talking in groups. All the monks, too, except Father DÁmaso, had come to pay their respects to the governor.

“His Excellency begs your reverences to attend a moment,” said the aide-de-camp. “Enter, young man!”

The young Manilian who confounded the Tagalo with the Greek entered, trembling.

Every one was greatly astonished. His Excellency must be much annoyed to make the monks wait this way. Said Brother Sibyla:

“I have nothing to say to him, and I’m wasting my time here.”

“I also,” said an Augustin. “Shall we go?”

“Would it not be better to find out what he thinks?” asked Brother Salvi. “We should avoid a scandal, and we could remind him—of his duty——”

“Your reverences may enter,” said the aid, conducting back the young man, who came out radiant.

The fathers went in and saluted the governor.

“Who among your reverences is the Brother DÁmaso?” demanded His Excellency at once, without asking them to be seated or inquiring for their health, and without any of those complimentary phrases which form the repertory of dignitaries.

“SeÑor, Father DÁmaso is not with us,” replied Father Sibyla, in a tone almost as dry.

“Your Excellency’s servant is ill,” added the humble Brother Salvi. “We come, after saluting Your Excellency and inquiring for his health, to speak in the name of Your Excellency’s respectful servant, who has had the misfortune——”

“Oh!” interrupted the captain-general, with a nervous smile, while he twirled a chair on one leg. “If all the servants of my Excellency were like the Father DÁmaso, I should prefer to serve my Excellency myself!”

Their reverences did not seem to know what to reply.

“Won’t your reverences sit down?” added the governor in more conventional tone.

Captain Tiago, in evening dress and walking on tiptoe, came in, leading by the hand Maria Clara, hesitating, timid. Overcoming her agitation, she made her salute, at once ceremonial and graceful.

“This sigÑorita is your daughter!” exclaimed the surprised governor. “Happy the fathers whose daughters are like you, sigÑorita. They have told me about you, and I wish to thank you in the name of His Majesty the King, who loves the peace and tranquillity of his subjects, and in my own name, in that of a father who has daughters. If there is anything you would wish, sigÑorita——”

“SeÑor!” protested Maria, trembling.

“The SeÑor Don Juan CrisÓstomo Ibarra awaits Your Excellency’s orders,” announced the ringing voice of the aide-de-camp.

“Permit me, sigÑorita, to see you again before I leave the pueblo. I have yet things to say to you. SeÑor acalde, Your Highness will accompany me on the walk I wish to take after the private conference I shall have with the SeÑor Ibarra.”

“Your Excellency,” said Father Salvi humbly, “will permit us to inform him that the SeÑor Ibarra is excommunicated——”

The general broke in.

“I am happy,” he said, “in being troubled about nothing but the state of Father DÁmaso. I sincerely desire his complete recovery, for, at his age, a voyage to Spain in search of health would be somewhat disagreeable. But all depends upon him. Meanwhile, God preserve the health of your reverences!”

All retired.

“In his own case also everything depends upon him,” murmured Brother Salvi as he went out.

“We shall see who makes the earliest voyage to Spain!” added another Franciscan.

“I shall go immediately,” said Father Sibyla, in vexation.

“We, too,” grumbled the Augustins.

Both parties bore it ill that for the fault of a Franciscan His Excellency should have received them so coldly.

In the ante-chamber they encountered Ibarra, who a few hours before had been their host. There was no exchange of greetings, but there were eloquent looks. The alcalde, on the contrary, gave Ibarra his hand. On the threshold CrisÓstomo met Maria coming out. Looks spoke again, but very differently this time.

Though this encounter with the monks had seemed to him of bad augury, Ibarra presented himself in the utmost calm. He bowed profoundly. The captain-general came forward.

“It gives me the greatest satisfaction, SeÑor Ibarra, to take you by the hand. I hope for your entire confidence.” And he examined the young man with evident satisfaction.

“SeÑor, so much kindness——”

“Your surprise shows that you did not expect a friendly reception; that was to doubt my fairness.”

“A friendly reception, seÑor, for an insignificant subject of His Majesty, like myself, is not fairness, but favor.”

“Well, well!” said the general, sitting down and motioning CrisÓstomo to a seat. “Let us have a moment of open hearts. I am much gratified by what you are doing, and have proposed you to the Government of His Majesty for a decoration in recompense for your project of the school. Had you invited me, I should have found it a pleasure to be here for the ceremony. Perhaps I should have been able to save you an annoyance. But as to what happened between you and Father DÁmaso, have neither fear nor regrets. Not a hair of your head shall be harmed so long as I govern the islands; and in regard to the excommunication, I will talk with the archbishop. We must conform ourselves to our circumstances. We cannot laugh at it here, as we might in Europe. But be more prudent in the future. You have weighted yourself with the religious orders, who, from their office and their wealth, must be respected. I protect you, because I like a good son. By heaven, I don’t know what I should have done in your place!”

Then, quickly changing the subject, he said:

“They tell me you have just returned from Europe. You were in Madrid?”

“Yes, seÑor, several months.”

“How happens it that you return without bringing me a letter of recommendation?”

“SeÑor,” replied Ibarra, bowing, “because, having heard there of the character of Your Excellency, I thought a letter of recommendation would not only be unnecessary, but might even offend you; the Filipinos are all recommended to you.”

A smile curled the lips of the old soldier, who replied slowly, as though meditating and weighing his words:

“I cannot help being flattered that you think so. And yet, young man, you should know what a weight rests on our shoulders. Here we old soldiers have to be all—king, ministers of state, of war, of justice, of everything; and yet, in every event, we have to consult the far-off mother country, which often must approve or reject our propositions with blind justice. If in Spain itself, with the advantage of everything near and familiar, all is imperfect and defective, the wonder is that all here is not revolution. It is not lack of good will in the governors, but we must use the eyes and arms of strangers, of whom, for the most part, we can know nothing, and who, instead of serving their country, may be serving only their own interests. The monks are a powerful aid, but they are not sufficient. You inspire great interest in me, and I would not have the imperfection of our governmental system tell in anyway against you. I cannot watch over any one; every one cannot come to me. Tell me, can I be useful to you in any way? Have you any request to make?”

Ibarra reflected.

“SeÑor,” he replied, “my great desire is for the happiness of my country, and I would that happiness might be due to the efforts of our mother country and of my fellow-citizens united to her and united among themselves by the eternal bonds of common views and interests. What I would ask, the Government alone can give, and that after many continuous years of labor and of well-conceived reforms.”

The general gave him a long look, which Ibarra bore naturally, without timidity, without boldness.

“You are the first man with whom I’ve spoken in this country,” cried His Excellency, stretching out his hand.

“Your Excellency has seen only those who while away their lives in cities; he has not visited the falsely maligned cabins of our villages. There Your Excellency would be able to see veritable men, if to be a man a noble heart and simple manners are enough.”

The captain-general rose and walked up and down the room.

“SeÑor Ibarra,” he said, stopping before CrisÓstomo, “your education and manner of thinking are not for this country. Sell what you own and come with me when I go back to Europe; the climate will be better for you.”

“I shall remember all my life this kindness of Your Excellency,” replied Ibarra, moved; “but I must live in the country where my parents lived——”

“Where they died, you would say more justly. Believe me, I, perhaps, know your country better than you do yourself. Ah, but I forget! You are to marry an adorable girl, and I’m keeping you from her all this time! Go—go to her! And that you may have more freedom, send the father to me,” he added, smiling. “Don’t forget, though, that I want your company for the promenade.”

Ibarra saluted, and went out.

The general called his aide-de-camp.

“I am pleased,” said he, giving him a light tap on the shoulder; “I have seen to-day for the first time how one may be a good Spaniard without ceasing to be a good Filipino. What a pity that this Ibarra some day or other——but call the alcalde.”

The judge at once presented himself.

“SeÑor alcalde,” said the general, “to avoid a repetition of scenes like those of which you were a spectator to-day—scenes, I deplore, because they reflect upon the Government and upon all Spaniards—I recommend the SeÑor Ibarra to your utmost care and consideration.”

The alcalde perceived the reprimand and lowered his eyes.

Captain Tiago presented himself, stiff and unnatural.

“Don Santiago,” the general said affectionately, “a moment ago I congratulated you upon having a daughter like the SeÑorita de los Santos. Now I make you my compliments upon your future son-in-law. The most virtuous of daughters is worthy of the first citizen of the Philippines. May I know the day of the wedding?”

“SeÑor——” stammered Captain Tiago, wiping drops of sweat from his brow.

“Then nothing is settled, I see. If witnesses are lacking, it will give me the greatest pleasure to be one of them.”

“Yes, seÑor,” said Captain Tiago, with a smile to stir compassion.

Ibarra had gone off almost running to find Maria Clara. He had so much to talk over with her. Through a door he heard the murmur of girls’ voices. He knocked.

“Who is there?” asked Maria.

“I.”

The voices were hushed, but the door did not open.

“It’s I. May I come in?” demanded CrisÓstomo, his heart beginning to beat violently.

The silence continued. After some moments, light foot-steps approached the door, and the voice of Sinang said through the keyhole:

“CrisÓstomo, we’re going to the theatre to-night. Write what you have to say to Maria Clara.”

“What does that mean?” said Ibarra to himself as he slowly left the door.