Isagani’s face fell.  Padre Fernandez was a person greatly respected by him, being the one always excepted by him whenever the friars were attacked.

“What does Padre Fernandez want?” he inquired.

The usher shrugged his shoulders and Isagani reluctantly followed him.

Padre Fernandez, the friar whom we met in Los Banos, was waiting in his cell, grave and sad, with his brows knitted as if he were in deep thought.  He arose as Isagani entered, shook hands with him, and closed the door.  Then he began to pace from one end of the room to the other.  Isagani stood waiting for him to speak.

“Senor Isagani,” he began at length with some emotion, “from the window I’ve heard you speaking, for though I am a consumptive I have good ears, and I want to talk with you.  I have always liked the young men who express themselves clearly and have their own way of thinking and acting, no matter that their ideas may differ from mine.  You young men, from what I have heard, had a supper last night.  Don’t excuse yourself—­”

“I don’t intend to excuse myself!” interrupted Isagani.

“So much the better—­it shows that you accept the consequences of your actions.  Besides, you would do ill in retracting, and I don’t blame you, I take no notice of what may have been said there last night, I don’t accuse you, because after all you’re free to say of the Dominicans what seems best to you, you are not a pupil of ours—­only this year have we had the pleasure of having you, and we shall probably not have you longer.  Don’t think that I’m going to invoke considerations of gratitude; no, I’m not going to waste my time in stupid vulgarisms.  I’ve had you summoned here because I believe that you are one of the few students who act from conviction, and, as I like men of conviction, I’m going to explain myself to Senor Isagani.”

Padre Fernandez paused, then continued his walk with bowed head, his gaze riveted on the floor.

“You may sit down, if you wish,” he remarked.  “It’s a habit of mine to walk about while talking, because my ideas come better then.”

Isagani remained standing, with his head erect, waiting for the professor to get to the point of the matter.

“For more than eight years I have been a professor here,” resumed Padre Fernandez, still continuing to pace back and forth, “and in that time I’ve known and dealt with more than twenty-five hundred students.  I’ve taught them, I’ve tried to educate them, I’ve tried to inculcate in them principles of justice and of dignity, and yet in these days when there is so much murmuring against us I’ve not seen one who has the temerity to maintain his accusations when he finds himself in the presence of a friar, not even aloud in the presence of any numbers.  Young men there are who behind our backs calumniate us and before us kiss our hands, with a base smile begging kind looks from us!  Bah!  What do you wish that we should do with such creatures?”