his heir. Basilio would smile bitterly and reflect that in this world
complaisance with vice is rewarded better than fulfilment of duty. Not
a few times did he feel tempted to give free rein to the craving and
conduct his benefactor to the grave by a path of flowers and smiling
illusions rather than lengthen his life along a road of sacrifice.

"What a fool I am!" he often said to himself. "People are stupid and
then pay for it."

But he would shake his head as he thought of Juli, of the wide
future before him. He counted upon living without a stain on his
conscience, so he continued the treatment prescribed, and bore
everything patiently.

Yet with all his care the sick man, except for short periods of
improvement, grew worse. Basilio had planned gradually to reduce
the amount of the dose, or at least not to let him injure himself
by increasing it, but on returning from the hospital or some visit
he would find his patient in the heavy slumber produced by the opium,
driveling, pale as a corpse. The young man could not explain whence the
drug came: the only two persons who visited the house were Simoun and
Padre Irene, the former rarely, while the latter never ceased exhorting
him to be severe and inexorable with the treatment, to take no notice
of the invalid's ravings, for the main object was to save him.

"Do your duty, young man," was Padre Irene's constant admonition. "Do
your duty." Then he would deliver a sermon on this topic with such
great conviction and enthusiasm that Basilio would begin to feel
kindly toward the preacher. Besides, Padre Irene promised to get him a
fine assignment, a good province, and even hinted at the possibility