subordinate your thoughts to other brains, and instead of freeing yourselves, make yourselves slaves indeed!  Nine-tenths of those of you who pretend to be enlightened are renegades to your country!  He among you who talks that language neglects his own in such a way that he neither writes nor understands it, and how many have I not seen who pretended not to know a single word of it!  But fortunately, you have an imbecile government!  While Russia enslaves Poland by forcing the Russian language upon it, while Germany prohibits French in the conquered provinces, your government strives to preserve yours, and you in return, a remarkable people under an incredible government, you are trying to despoil yourselves of your own nationality!  One and all you forget that while a people preserves its language, it preserves the marks of its liberty, as a man preserves his independence while he holds to his own way of thinking.  Language is the thought of the peoples.  Luckily, your independence is assured; human passions are looking out for that!”

Simoun paused and rubbed his hand over his forehead.  The waning moon was rising and sent its faint light down through the branches of the trees, and with his white locks and severe features, illuminated from below by the lantern, the jeweler appeared to be the fateful spirit of the wood planning some evil.

Basilio was silent before such bitter reproaches and listened with bowed head, while Simoun resumed:  “I saw this movement started and have passed whole nights of anguish, because I understood that among those youths there were exceptional minds and hearts, sacrificing themselves for what they thought to be a good cause, when in reality they were working against their own country.  How many times have I wished to speak to you young men, to reveal myself and undeceive you!  But in view of the reputation I enjoy, my words would have been wrongly interpreted and would perhaps have had a counter effect.  How many times have I not longed to approach your Makaraig, your Isagani!  Sometimes I thought of their death, I wished to destroy them—­”

Simoun checked himself.

“Here’s why I let you live, Basilio, and by such imprudence I expose myself to the risk of being some day betrayed by you.  But you know who I am, you know how much I must have suffered—­then believe in me!  You are not of the common crowd, which sees in the jeweler Simoun the trader who incites the authorities to commit abuses in order that the abused may buy jewels.  I am the Judge who wishes to castigate this system by making use of its own defects, to make war on it by flattering it.  I need your help, your influence among the youth, to combat these senseless desires for Hispanization, for assimilation, for equal rights.  By that road you will become only a poor copy, and the people should look higher.  It is madness to attempt to influence the thoughts of the rulers—­they have their plan outlined, the bandage covers their eyes, and