One of the provincials, a little man with a black beard, had nothing remarkable about him but his nose, which, to judge from its size, ought not to have belonged to him entire. The other, young and blond, seemed newly arrived in the country. The Franciscan was conversing with him somewhat warmly. "You will see," said he, "when you have been here several months; you will be convinced that to legislate at Madrid and to execute in the Philippines is not one and the same thing." "But----" "I, for example," continued Brother Damaso, raising his voice to cut off the words of his objector, "I, who count twenty-three years of plane and palm, can speak with authority. I spent twenty years in one pueblo. In twenty years one gets acquainted with a town. San Diego had six thousand souls. I knew each inhabitant as if I'd borne and reared him--with which foot this one limped, how that one's pot boiled--and I tell you the reforms proposed by the Ministers are absurd. The Indian is too indolent!" "Ah, pardon me," said the young man, speaking low and drawing nearer; "that word rouses all my interest. Does it really exist from birth, this indolence of the native, or is it, as some travellers say, only an excuse of our own for the lack of advancement in our colonial policy?" "Bah! ask Senor Laruja, who also knows the country well; ask him if the ignorance and idleness of the Indians are not unparalleled?" "In truth!" the little dark man made haste to affirm; "nowhere will you find men more careless." "Nor more corrupt, nor more ungrateful." "Nor more ill-bred." The young man looked about uneasily. "Gentlemen," said he, still speaking low, "it seems to me we are the guests of Indians, and that these young ladies----" "Bah, you are too timid: Santiago does not consider himself an Indian, besides, he isn't here. These are the scruples of a newcomer. Wait a little. When you have slept in our strapped beds, eaten the tinola, and seen our balls and fetes, you'll change your tone. And more, you will find that the country is going to ruin; she is ruined already!" "What does your reverence mean?" cried the lieutenant and Dominican together. "The evil all comes from the fact that the Government sustains wrong-doers in the face of the ministers of God," continued the Franciscan, raising his voice and facing about. "When a curate rids his cemetery of a malefactor, no one, not even the king, has the right to interfere; and a wretched general, a petty general from nowhere----" "Father, His Excellency is viceroy," said the officer, rising. "His Excellency represents His Majesty the king." "What Excellency?" retorted the Franciscan, rising in turn. "Who is this king? For us there is but one King, the legitimate----" "If you do not retract that, Father, I shall make it known to the governor-general," cried the lieutenant. "Go to him now, go!" retorted Father Damaso; "I'll loan you my carriage." The Dominican interposed.