embracing one another and their eyes filled with tears. Pecson alone
preserved his skeptical smile.

The bearer of such good news was Makaraig, the young man at the head
of the movement. This student occupied in that house, by himself, two
rooms, luxuriously furnished, and had his servant and a cochero to look
after his carriage and horses. He was of robust carriage, of refined
manners, fastidiously dressed, and very rich. Although studying law
only that he might have an academic degree, he enjoyed a reputation for
diligence, and as a logician in the scholastic way had no cause to envy
the most frenzied quibblers of the University faculty. Nevertheless
he was not very far behind in regard to modern ideas and progress,
for his fortune enabled him to have all the books and magazines that a
watchful censor was unable to keep out. With these qualifications and
his reputation for courage, his fortunate associations in his earlier
years, and his refined and delicate courtesy, it was not strange that
he should exercise such great influence over his associates and that
he should have been chosen to carry out such a difficult undertaking
as that of the instruction in Castilian.

After the first outburst of enthusiasm, which in youth always takes
hold in such exaggerated forms, since youth finds everything beautiful,
they wanted to be informed how the affair had been managed.

"I saw Padre Irene this morning," said Makaraig with a certain air
of mystery.

"Hurrah for Padre Irene!" cried an enthusiastic student.

"Padre Irene," continued Makaraig, "has told me about everything that