Padre Fernandez did not reply, but continued to pace about feverishly, as though very much agitated.

“You say that the fields are not cultivated,” resumed Isagani in a changed tone, after a brief pause.  “Let’s not enter upon an analysis of the reason for this, because we should get far away.  But you, Padre Fernandez, you, a teacher, you, a learned man, do you wish a people of peons and laborers?  In your opinion, is the laborer the perfect state at which man may arrive in his development?  Or is it that you wish knowledge for yourself and labor for the rest?”

“No, I want knowledge for him who deserves it, for him who knows how to use it,” was the reply.  “When the students demonstrate that they love it, when young men of conviction appear, young men who know how to maintain their dignity and make it respected, then there will be knowledge, then there will be considerate professors!  If there are now professors who resort to abuse, it is because there are pupils who submit to it.”

“When there are professors, there will be students!”

“Begin by reforming yourselves, you who have need of change, and we will follow.”

“Yes,” said Isagani with a bitter laugh, “let us begin it, because the difficulty is on our side.  Well you know what is expected of a pupil who stands before a professor—­you yourself, with all your love of justice, with all your kind sentiments, have been restraining yourself by a great effort while I have been telling you bitter truths, you yourself, Padre Fernandez!  What good has been secured by him among us who has tried to inculcate other ideas?  What evils have not fallen upon you because you have tried to be just and perform your duty?”

“Senor Isagani,” said the Dominican, extending his hand, “although it may seem that nothing practical has resulted from this conversation, yet something has been gained.  I’ll talk to my brethren about what you have told me and I hope that something can be done.  Only I fear that they won’t believe in your existence.”

“I fear the same,” returned Isagani, shaking the Dominican’s hand.  “I fear that my friends will not believe in your existence, as you have revealed yourself to me today.” [57]

Considering the interview at an end, the young man took his leave.

Padre Fernandez opened the door and followed him with his gaze until he disappeared around a corner in the corridor.  For some time he listened to the retreating footsteps, then went back into his cell and waited for the youth to appear in the street.

He saw him and actually heard him say to a friend who asked where he was going:  “To the Civil Government!  I’m going to see the pasquinades and join the others!”

His startled friend stared at him as one would look at a person who is about to commit suicide, then moved away from him hurriedly.

“Poor boy!” murmured Padre Fernandez, feeling his eyes moisten.  “I grudge you to the Jesuits who educated you.”