ater, long,
grey shadows appear in the dim distance, almost on the border of the
horizon. They are shadows of fishermen's boats at work drawing in
the nets.

Two men, dressed in deep mourning, from a lofty height contemplate
the scene in silence. One is Ibarra, and the other is a young,
meek-looking man with a melancholy countenance.

"Here is the place!" said the latter. "Here is where your father's
body was thrown into the water! The grave-digger brought Lieutenant
Guevara and me here and pointed out the spot."

Ibarra, with emotion, warmly grasped the young man's hand.

"You need not thank me!" replied the latter. "I owed your father for
many favors he did me. The only thing I could ever do for him was
to accompany his body to the grave. I had come to the town without
knowing anybody, without any recommendations, without a reputation,
without money, just as I am now. Your father protected me, procured a
house for me, helped secure whatever was needed to advance education;
he used to come to the school and distribute pennies among the poor
and diligent pupils; he provided them with books and papers. But that,
like all good things, did not last long."

Ibarra took off his hat and seemed to pray for a short time. Then
he turned to his companion and said: "Did you tell me that my father
used to help the poor children? How is it now?"

"Oh, now they do the best they can."

"And don't they come to school regularly?"

"No, for their shirts are ragged and they are ashamed."

Ibarra kept silent for a few moments.

"How many pupils have you now?" he asked, with a certain interest.

"There are more than two hundred on the register, but only twenty-five
in the class."

"How does that happen?"

The school teacher sadly smiled.

"It is a long and tedious story," said he.

"Don't think that I am asking out of vain curiosity," replied Ibarra,
looking seriously at the distant horizon. "I have been meditating a
great deal on the matter, and I believe that it is far better to try to
carry out the ideas of my father than to try to avenge him. His tomb
is sacred Nature; and his enemies were the people and the priest. I
can forgive the people for their ignorance, and as to the priest,
I will pardon his character because I wish to respect the religion
which he represents. I wish to be inspired with the spirit of the
one who gave me life, and, that I may lend my help, I wish to know
what are the obstacles here in the way