ve forgotten me,
I have always kept her in mind."

"What do you mean?" interposed the blonde.

"I mean that for over a year I have not received any news from here,
so that now I feel like a total stranger. I do not yet know how or
when my father died."

"Ah!" exclaimed the lieutenant.

"Where have you been that you did not telegraph?" asked one of the
ladies. "When I was married, we telegraphed to the Peninsula."

"Senora, for the last two years I have been in northern Europe,
in Germany and in Poland."

"And what country of Europe do you like best?" asked the young blonde,
who had been listening interestedly.

"After Spain, which is my second fatherland, oh--any free country
in Europe."

"You seem to have travelled a great deal--what is the most remarkable
thing that you have observed?" asked Laruja.

Ibarra appeared to be reflecting on the question. "Remarkable? In
what way?"

"For instance, in the life of the different peoples,--their social,
political and religious life----"

Ibarra meditated for some little time. "I always made it a point to
study the history of a country before visiting it, and I find that
national development invariably follows perfectly natural rules. I have
always noticed that the prosperity or poverty of different peoples
is in direct proportion to their liberties or their lack of liberty,
or, in other words, in proportion to the sacrifices or selfishness
of their forefathers."

"And is that all you have observed?" asked the Franciscan, with a
loud laugh. Up to this time, he had not uttered a single word, but
had given his attention to the dinner. "It was not worth while to
squander your fortune for the purpose of learning such a trifle--a
thing that every school boy knows."

Ibarra looked at him intently, doubtful what to say. The guests
glanced at each other, fearing that a quarrel would break out. "The
dinner has been too long, and Your Reverence is affected by too much
wine," Ibarra was about to reply, but he checked himself in time and
only said: "Gentlemen, do not wonder at the familiarity with which
our old parish priest treats me. He treated me this way when I was
a child, and the years that have passed since then have not changed
His Reverence. I derive a certain amount of pleasure from it, for I
am reminded of those days when His Reverence was a frequent visitor
at our house and honored my father's table."

The Dominican glanced furtively at the Franciscan, who wa