Capitan Basilio had to give in; these young men had everything arranged.

“For the rest,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders, “it’s not altogether bad, it’s not a bad idea, and now that you can’t know Latin at least you may know Castilian.  Here you have another instance, namesake, of how we are going backwards.  In our times we learned Latin because our books were in Latin; now you study Latin a little but have no Latin books.  On the other hand, your books are in Castilian and that language is not taught—­aetas parentum pejor avis tulit nos nequiores! as Horace said.”  With this quotation he moved away majestically, like a Roman emperor.

The youths smiled at each other.  “These men of the past,” remarked Isagani, “find obstacles for everything.  Propose a thing to them and instead of seeing its advantages they only fix their attention on the difficulties.  They want everything to come smooth and round as a billiard ball.”

“He’s right at home with your uncle,” observed Basilio.

“They talk of past times.  But listen—­speaking of uncles, what does yours say about Paulita?”

Isagani blushed.  “He preached me a sermon about the choosing of a wife.  I answered him that there wasn’t in Manila another like her—­beautiful, well-bred, an orphan—­”

“Very wealthy, elegant, charming, with no defect other than a ridiculous aunt,” added Basilio, at which both smiled.

“In regard to the aunt, do you know that she has charged me to look for her husband?”

“Dona Victorina?  And you’ve promised, in order to keep your sweetheart.”

“Naturally!  But the fact is that her husband is actually hidden—­in my uncle’s house!”

Both burst into a laugh at this, while Isagani continued:  “That’s why my uncle, being a conscientious man, won’t go on the upper deck, fearful that Dona Victorina will ask him about Don Tiburcio.  Just imagine, when Dona Victorina learned that I was a steerage passenger she gazed at me with a disdain that—­”

At that moment Simoun came down and, catching sight of the two young men, greeted Basilio in a patronizing tone:  “Hello, Don Basilio, you’re off for the vacation?  Is the gentleman a townsman of yours?”

Basilio introduced Isagani with the remark that he was not a townsman, but that their homes were not very far apart.  Isagani lived on the seashore of the opposite coast.  Simoun examined him with such marked attention that he was annoyed, turned squarely around, and faced the jeweler with a provoking stare.

“Well, what is the province like?” the latter asked, turning again to Basilio.

“Why, aren’t you familiar with it?”

“How the devil am I to know it when I’ve never set foot in it?  I’ve been told that it’s very poor and doesn’t buy jewels.”

“We don’t buy jewels, because we don’t need them,” rejoined Isagani dryly, piqued in his provincial pride.