"Come, Isagani, let's get away from that house. Come!" Basilio urged in a hoarse voice, catching his friend by the arm.
Isagani gently shook himself free and continued to stare with the same sad smile upon his lips.
"For God's sake, let's get away from here!"
"Why should I go away? Tomorrow it will not be she."
There was so much sorrow in those words that Basilio for a moment forgot his own terror. "Do you want to die?" he demanded.
Isagani shrugged his shoulders and continued to gaze toward the house.
Basilio again tried to drag him away. "Isagani, Isagani, listen to me! Let's not waste any time! That house is mined, it's going to blow up at any moment, by the least imprudent act, the least curiosity! Isagani, all will perish in its ruins.
"In its ruins?" echoed Isagani, as if trying to understand, but without removing his gaze from the window.
"Yes, in its ruins, yes, Isagani! For God's sake, come! I'll explain afterwards. Come! One who has been more unfortunate than either you or I has doomed them all. Do you see that white, clear light, like an electric lamp, shining from the azotea? It's the light of death! A lamp charged with dynamite, in a mined dining-room, will burst and not a rat will escape alive. Come!"
"No," answered Isagani, shaking his head sadly. "I want to stay here, I want to see her for the last time. Tomorrow, you see, she will be something different."
"Let fate have its way!" Basilio then exclaimed, hurrying away.
Isagani watched his friend rush away with a precipitation that indicated real terror, but continued to stare toward the charmed window, like the cavalier of Toggenburg waiting for his sweetheart to appear, as Schiller tells. Now the sala was deserted, all having repaired to the dining-
