hers,
and I do not see why I have to lower my head when I can raise it,
to give it over to my enemies when I can humble them!"

"Because the field in which you wish to sow is in possession of your
enemies and against them you are powerless. It is necessary that you
first kiss the hand that--"

But the youth let him go no farther, exclaiming passionately, "Kiss
their hands! You forget that among them they killed my father and
threw his body from the tomb! I who am his son do not forget it,
and that I do not avenge it is because I have regard for the good
name of the Church!"

The old Sage bowed his head as he answered slowly: "Senor Ibarra, if
you preserve those memories, which I cannot counsel you to forget,
abandon the enterprise you are undertaking and seek in some other
way the welfare of your countrymen. The enterprise needs another man,
because to make it a success zeal and money alone are not sufficient;
in our country are required also self-denial, tenacity of purpose,
and faith, for the soil is not ready, it is only sown with discord."

Ibarra appreciated the value of these observations, but still would
not be discouraged. The thought of Maria Clara was in his mind and
his promise must be fulfilled.

"Doesn't your experience suggest any other than this hard means?" he
asked in a low voice.

The old man took him by the arm and led him to the window. A fresh
breeze, the precursor of the north wind, was blowing, and before their
eyes spread out the garden bounded by the wide forest that was a kind
of park.

"Why can we not do as that weak stalk laden with flowers and buds
does?" asked the Sage, pointing to a beautiful jasmine plant. "The wind
blows and shakes it and it bows its head as if to hide its precious
load. If the stalk should hold itself erect it would be broken,
its flowers would be scattered by the wind, and its buds would be
blighted. The wind passes by and the stalk raises itself erect,
proud of its treasure, yet who will blame it for having bowed before
necessity? There you see that gigantic _kupang_, which majestically
waves its light foliage wherein the eagle builds his nest. I brought
it from the forest as a weak sapling and braced its stem for months
with slender pieces of bamboo. If I had transplanted it large and
full of life, it is certain that it would not have lived here,
for the wind would have thrown it down before its roots could have
fixed themselves in the soil, before it could