"To go to a strange land?" interrupted Ibarra. "To live in peace the remaining days of your life. You have friends in Spain, you are rich, you can get yourself pardoned. By all means, a foreign land is better for you than your own country." Crisostomo did not reply. He meditated in silence. Just then they reached the Pasig and the banca was headed up the stream. Over the Bridge of Spain a horse-man was galloping at high speed, and a prolonged, sharp whistle was heard. "Elias," replied Ibarra, "you owe your misfortunes to my family; you have saved my life twice; I owe you not only gratitude, but also restitution of your fortune. You advise me to go to a foreign land and live; then come with me and we will live like brothers. Here, you, too, are miserable." Elias sadly replied: "Impossible! It is true that I can neither love nor be happy in my country; but I can suffer and die in it, and perhaps die for it; that would be something. Let my country's misfortune be my own misfortune. Since no noble thought unites us, and since our hearts do not beat in harmony at the mention of a single word, at least, let a common misery unite me to my fellow countrymen; at least, let me weep with them over our grief; let the same misery oppress all our hearts." "Then why do you advise me to leave?" "Because in other lands you can be happy, and I cannot; because you are not made to suffer, and because you would hate your country, if some day you should see the cause of your misfortune: and to hate one's own country is the greatest misery." "You are unjust to me," exclaimed Ibarra, with bitter reproach. "You forget that I have scarcely arrived here, and that I have already sought its welfare." "Do not be offended, Señor. I am not reproaching you. Would to God that all might imitate you. But I do not ask for the impossible and you should not be offended if I tell you that your heart deceives you. You love your country because your father has taught you to love it; you love it because you had in it your love, your fortune, your youth; because it smiled on you, and because it has not until now done you an injustice. You love your country as we all love that which makes us happy. But, on that day when you see yourself poor, ragged, hungry, persecuted, denounced and betrayed by your very countrymen, on that day you will curse yourself, your country and all." "Your words grieve me," said Ibarra, resentfully. Elias bowed his head, meditated and replied: