The demand is sacrificial in the strict sense. Florentino borrows the logic of ritual offering: what is laid on the altar for a people’s redemption cannot itself be contaminated by the vices it is meant to redeem. Simoun’s gold, gathered through corruption to finance liberation, is thrown into the sea for exactly this reason.
Throughout both novels, youth for Rizal is less an age than an ethical condition: the capacity for disinterested enthusiasm before calculation sets in. The novel’s young men — Basilio the pragmatist, Isagani the idealist, Placido the embittered — are studies in how that capacity is preserved, bargained away, or broken by the colonial machine.
Rizal had already written, in his poem to the Philippine youth, that the young were the fair hope of the fatherland; the novel converts the compliment into a summons with a cost attached. It was answered literally: the generation that read these pages made the revolution of 1896, and the author paid the price of his own summons before a firing squad at Bagumbayan.
From Father Florentino’s closing meditation over the dying Simoun (Ch. XXXIX); the gold is cast into the sea in the novel’s final paragraphs.