“You’re dodging—cite me a fact, cite me a fact!” cried Sandoval. “Let’s get away from hollow arguments, from empty phrases, and get on the solid ground of facts,”—this with an elegant gesture. “Facts, gentlemen, facts! The rest is prejudice—I won’t call it filibusterism.” Pecson smiled like one of the blessed as he retorted, “There comes the filibusterism. But can’t we enter into a discussion without resorting to accusations?” Sandoval protested in a little extemporaneous speech, again demanding facts. “Well, not long ago there was a dispute between some private persons and certain friars, and the acting Governor rendered a decision that it should be settled by the Provincial of the Order concerned,” replied Pecson, again breaking out into a laugh, as though he were dealing with an insignificant matter, he cited names and dates, and promised documents that would prove how justice was dispensed. “But, on what ground, tell me this, on what ground can they refuse permission for what plainly appears to be extremely useful and necessary?” asked Sandoval. Pecson shrugged his shoulders. “It’s that it endangers the integrity of the fatherland,” he replied in the tone of a notary reading an allegation. “That’s pretty good! What has the integrity of the fatherland to do with the rules of syntax?” “The Holy Mother Church has learned doctors—what do I know? Perhaps it is feared that we may come to understand the laws so that we can obey them. What will become of the Philippines on the day when we understand one another?” Sandoval did not relish the dialectic and jesting turn of the conversation; along that path could rise no speech worth the while. “Don’t make a joke of things!” he exclaimed. “This is a serious matter.” “The Lord deliver me from joking when there are friars concerned!” “But, on what do you base—” “On the fact that, the hours for the classes having to come at night,” continued Pecson in the same tone, as if he were quoting known and recognized formulas, “there may be invoked as an obstacle the immorality of the thing, as was done in the case of the school at Malolos.” “Another! But don’t the classes of the Academy of Drawing, and the novenaries and the processions, cover themselves with the mantle of night?” “The scheme affects the dignity of the University,” went on the chubby youth, taking no notice of the question. “Affects nothing! The University has to accommodate itself to the needs of the students. And granting that, what is a university then? Is it an institution to discourage study? Have a few men banded themselves together in the name of learning and instruction in order to prevent others from becoming enlightened?” “The fact is that movements initiated from below are regarded as discontent—” “What about projects that come from above?” interpolated one of the students. “There’s the School of Arts and Trades!”