“No, no,” insinuated another.  “This is the opportunity to get rid of the enemy.  It’s not sufficient that they retire into their houses, they should be made to come out, like evil humors by means of plasters.  If they are inclined to start riots, they should be stirred up by secret agitators.  I am of the opinion that the troops should be resting on their arms and appearing careless and indifferent, so the people may be emboldened, and then in case of any disturbance—­out on them, action!”

“The end justifies the means,” remarked another.  “Our end is our holy religion and the integrity of the fatherland.  Proclaim a state of siege, and in case of the least disturbance, arrest all the rich and educated, and—­clean up the country!”

“If I hadn’t got there in time to counsel moderation,” added Padre Irene, speaking to Capitan Tiago, “it’s certain that blood would now be flowing through the streets.  I thought of you, Capitan—­The partizans of force couldn’t do much with the General, and they missed Simoun.  Ah, if Simoun had not been taken ill—­”

With the arrest of Basilio and the search made later among his books and papers, Capitan Tiago had become much worse.  Now Padre Irene had come to augment his terror with hair-raising tales.  Ineffable fear seized upon the wretch, manifesting itself first by a light shiver, which was rapidly accentuated, until he was unable to speak.  With his eyes bulging and his brow covered with sweat, he caught Padre Irene’s arm and tried to rise, but could not, and then, uttering two groans, fell heavily back upon the pillow.  His eyes were wide open and he was slavering—­but he was dead.  The terrified Padre Irene fled, and, as the dying man had caught hold of him, in his flight he dragged the corpse from the bed, leaving it sprawling in the middle of the room.

By night the terror had reached a climax.  Several incidents had occurred to make the timorous believe in the presence of secret agitators.

During a baptism some cuartos were thrown to the boys and naturally there was a scramble at the door of the church.  It happened that at the time there was passing a bold soldier, who, somewhat preoccupied, mistook the uproar for a gathering of filibusters and hurled himself, sword in hand, upon the boys.  He went into the church, and had he not become entangled in the curtains suspended from the choir he would not have left a single head on shoulders.  It was but the matter of a moment for the timorous to witness this and take to flight, spreading the news that the revolution had begun.  The few shops that had been kept open were now hastily closed, there being Chinese who even left bolts of cloth outside, and not a few women lost their slippers in their flight through the streets.  Fortunately, there was only one person wounded and a few bruised, among them the soldier himself, who suffered a fall fighting with the curtain, which smelt to him of filibusterism.  Such prowess gained him great renown, and a renown so pure that it is to be wished all fame could be acquired in like manner—­mothers would then weep less and earth would be more populous!