moun shuddered and
stopped the youth with a gesture.

"Basilio," he said in a low, tense voice, "listen to me carefully,
for the moments are precious. I see that you haven't opened the
pamphlets that I sent you. You're not interested in your country."

The youth started to protest.

"It's useless," went on Simoun dryly. "Within an hour the revolution
is going to break out at a signal from me, and tomorrow there'll
be no studies, there'll be no University, there'll be nothing but
fighting and butchery. I have everything ready and my success is
assured. When we triumph, all those who could have helped us and did
not do so will be treated as enemies. Basilio, I've come to offer
you death or a future!"

"Death or a future!" the boy echoed, as though he did not understand.

"With us or with the government," rejoined Simoun. "With your country
or with your oppressors. Decide, for time presses! I've come to save
you because of the memories that unite us!"

"With my country or with the oppressors!" repeated Basilio in a low
tone. The youth was stupefied. He gazed at the jeweler with eyes
in which terror was reflected, he felt his limbs turn cold, while a
thousand confused ideas whirled about in his mind. He saw the streets
running blood, he heard the firing, he found himself among the dead and
wounded, and by the peculiar force of his inclinations fancied himself
in an operator's blouse, cutting off legs and extracting bullets.

"The will of the government is in my hands," said Simoun. "I've
diverted and wasted its feeble strength and resources on foolish
expeditions, dazzling it with the plunder it might seize. Its heads
are now in the theater, calm and unsuspecting, thinking of a night
of pleasure, but not one shall again repose upon a pillow. I have
men and regiments at my disposition: some I have led to believe that
the uprising is ordered by the General; others that the friars are
bringing it about; some I have bought with promises, with employments,
with money; many, very many, are acting from revenge, because they are
oppressed and see it as a matter of killing or being killed. Cabesang
Tales is below, he has come with me here! Again I ask you--will you
come with us or do you prefer to expose yourself to the resentment
of my followers? In critical moments, to declare oneself neutral is
to be exposed to the wrath of both the contending parties."

Basilio rubbed his hand over his face several times, as if he were