s
trembling. Ibarra continued, rising from his chair: "You will allow
me to withdraw, for I have only just arrived, and I must leave
town to-morrow. Besides, I have a great many things to do before I
leave. The dinner is practically finished, and I drink very little
wine and scarcely touch spirits. Gentlemen, here's to Spain and the
Philippines."

Saying this, he emptied the glass, which, until then, he had not
touched. The old lieutenant followed his example, but said nothing.

"Do not go!" said Captain Tiago to him in a low voice. "Maria Clara
is coming immediately. Isabel has just gone to get her. The new parish
priest of your town is also coming, and he is a saint."

"I shall come to-morrow before I leave. I have to make a most
important visit yet to-night, and really must go!" With this he took
his departure. In the meantime, the Franciscan had recovered himself.

"You see how it is," said he to the young blonde, gesticulating with
his dessert knife. "It is nothing but pride. He could not bear to have
a priest reprove him. Can decent people believe it? This is the evil
consequence of sending young men to Europe. The Government ought to
prohibit it."

That night, the young blonde wrote, among other things, in the
first chapter of his "Colonial Studies": "How the neck and wing
of a chicken in a friar's plate of tinola can disturb the gayety
of a feast!" And among his other observations were the following:
"In the Philippines the most insignificant person at a dinner or a
feast is the host. The owner of the house has only to remain out in
the street, and everything will go along beautifully. In the present
state of affairs, it would be well to forbid the Filipinos to leave
their country, and not to teach them how to read."

CHAPTER III

HERETIC AND REVOLUTIONIST.

Ibarra was still confused, but the evening breeze, which, in Manila,
is at this time of the year always cool and refreshing, seemed gently
to lift the hazy mist which hung over his eyes. He removed his hat
and drew a deep, long breath.

Men of all nationalities passed by in swift carriages or in slow-going,
rented calesas. He was walking at that slow pace characteristic
alike of deep thought and laziness, and was making his way toward the
Plaza of Binondo. He looked about in search of any old and familiar
objects. Yes, there were the same old streets, the same old houses with
white and blue fronts, the same old walls covered with whit