was in deep contrast with that of
the other persons present. His athletic build, his appearance, and
every movement he made showed, however, that a fine mind and a healthy
body had both been highly developed. You could see from his frank and
vivacious face that he had Spanish blood in his veins. Although his
hair, eyes and complexion were dark, his cheeks had a slight color,
due, no doubt, to residence in cold countries.

"What!" he exclaimed with glad surprise, "the parish priest of my
own town! Father Damaso, my father's intimate friend!" Every one in
the room looked at the Franciscan, but the latter made no motion.

"You must excuse me, if I have made a mistake," added Ibarra, somewhat
in doubt because of the apathy of the friar.

"You have made no mistake," the priest finally answered in a strained
voice, "but your father was never an intimate friend of mine."

Ibarra slowly withdrew the hand which he had offered, looking at the
friar with great surprise. As he turned about, he came face to face
with the lieutenant just approaching.

"My boy, are you the son of Don Rafael Ibarra?"

The young man bowed in acquiescence. Father Damaso settled back into
his arm-chair and fixed his eyes upon the lieutenant.

"Welcome to your country! May you be more happy in it than was your
father!" exclaimed the officer in a trembling voice. "I had many
dealings with your father and I knew him well, and I can say that he
was one of the most worthy and honorable men in the Philippines."

"Sir," replied Ibarra with emotion, "your praise of my father puts
me in doubt as to his fate. Even now I, his own son, am ignorant of
it all."

The eyes of the old man filled with tears. He turned and hurriedly
withdrew. Ibarra found himself standing alone in the middle of the
room. His host had disappeared, and he turned to a group of gentlemen,
who, as soon as they saw him coming, formed a semicircle to receive
him.

"Gentlemen," he said, "in Germany, when a stranger attends any
social function and there is no one present to introduce him, it is
allowable for him to introduce himself. Permit me to avail myself
of this practice. Gentlemen, my name is Juan Crisostomo Ibarra y
Magsalin." The others gave their names in turn, of which the most
were comparatively unknown.

"My name is A----a," said one of the young men, bowing stiffly.

"Then, perhaps, I have the honor of addressing the poet whose works
have kept up my enthusiasm for my coun