"

The teacher stopped and seemed to be in doubt. Then, as if he had
made up his mind, he began again.

"I ought not to be ashamed of the history of my grievances. If any one
had been in my place, he would have had the same story to tell. As I
was saying, I began well. Several days later the priest, who was then
Father Damaso, sent the sacristan mayor to tell me that he wanted to
see me. As I knew his character and was afraid to make him wait for
me, I went up immediately, saluted him and said good morning to him in
Spanish. As was customary, when I saluted him, I advanced to kiss the
hand which he held out, but just at that moment he withdrew it and,
without replying to me, began to chuckle scoffingly. I was naturally
disconcerted, and it was all done in the presence of the sacristan
mayor. At the moment, I did not know what to say. I stood and looked
at him while he went on laughing. I had already become impatient
and saw that I was on the point of committing an indiscretion. All
of a sudden, he stopped laughing and added insult to injury. With a
cunning air, he said to me: 'So it is buenos dias, eh? buenos dias,
ha, ha! How funny! Why, you know how to speak Spanish, do you?' And
then he continued his laugh."

Ibarra could not keep back his smile.

"You laugh," replied the teacher, also smiling. "I confess that I did
not feel like smiling at that time. I felt the blood rush to my head,
and a thunderbolt seemed to dazzle my brain. I saw the priest far off,
very far from me. I started toward him to reply. The sacristan mayor
interposed and said very seriously, in Tagalog: 'You want to stop
wearing borrowed clothes. Be content to speak in your own language and
do not spoil Spanish, which is not meant for you. You have heard about
Ciruela? Well, Ciruela was a teacher who did not know how to read,
but he taught school.' I wanted to detain him for a moment, but he
went quickly into his room and closed the door violently. What was I
to do? In order to collect my salary I have to have the approval of
the priest on my bill, and have to make a journey to the capital of
the province. What could I do to him--the moral, political and civil
authority of the town, sustained by his corporation, feared by the
Government, rich, powerful, always consulting, advising, listening,
believing and attending to everything--what could I do to him? If
he insulted me, I had to keep my mouth closed. If I talked back,
he would throw me out of