castically,
'So it's _buenos dins, eh? Buenos dias!_ How nice that you know how
to talk Spanish!' Then again he broke out into laughter."

Ibarra was unable to repress a smile.

"You smile," continued the schoolmaster, following Ibarra's example,
"but I must confess that at the time I had very little desire to
laugh. I was still standing--I felt the blood rush to my head and
lightning seemed to flash through my brain. The curate I saw far,
far away. I advanced to reply to him without knowing just what I was
going to say, but the senior sacristan put himself between us. Padre
Damaso arose and said to me in Tagalog: 'Don't try to shine in borrowed
finery. Be content to talk your own dialect and don't spoil Spanish,
which isn't meant for you. Do you know the teacher Ciruela? [64]
Well, Ciruela was a teacher who didn't know how to read, and he had
a school.' I wanted to detain him, but he went into his bedroom and
slammed the door.

"What was I to do with only my meager salary, to collect which I
have to get the curate's approval and make a trip to the capital of
the province, what could I do against him, the foremost religious
and political power in the town, backed up by his Order, feared by
the government, rich, powerful, sought after and listened to, always
believed and heeded by everybody? Although he insulted me, I had to
remain silent, for if I replied he would have had me removed from my
position, by which I should lose all hope in my chosen profession. Nor
would the cause of education gain anything, but the opposite, for
everybody would take the curate's side, they would curse me and
call me presumptuous, proud, vain, a bad Christian, uncultured,
and if not those things, then anti-Spanish and a filibuster. Of a
schoolmaster neither learning nor zeal is expected; resignation,
humility, and inaction only are asked. May God pardon me if I have
gone against my conscience and my judgement, but I was born in this
country, I have to live, I have a mother, so I have abandoned myself
to my fate like a corpse tossed about by the waves."

"Did this difficulty discourage you for all time? Have you lived
so since?"

"Would that it had been a warning to me! If only my troubles had been
limited to that! It is true that from that time I began to dislike
my profession and thought of seeking some other occupation, as my
predecessor had done, because any work that is done in disgust and
shame is a kind of martyrdom and because