Part 23 (1/2)
And the priest, who was to die with her, extended his hands and blessed her. When she rose, her face was radiant. She took Dolores in her arms.
”Farewell, my child;” she said, tenderly. ”You are young. I hope you will escape the fury of these misguided wretches. Pray for me!”
And as the prisoners crowded around her with outstretched hands, she cried, cheerfully:
”Au revoir, my friends, au revoir!”
She was led away. Just as she was disappearing from sight, she turned once more and sent Dolores a last supreme farewell in a smile and kiss.
Then, in a clear, strong voice, that rang out like a song of victory, she cried:
”Vive le Roi!”
The very next day Dolores saw two young men led out to die. Their bearing was no less brave than that of the Marquise. They were not royalists. They died accused of Moderantisme, that frightful word with which the revolution sealed the doom of so many of its most devoted children. The Marquise de Beaufort had cried: ”Vive le Roi!” They cried:
”Vive la Republique!”
CHAPTER XII.
ANTOINETTE DE MIRANDOL.
A fortnight had elapsed since Dolores first entered the Conciergerie. In the many trying experiences through which she had been obliged to pa.s.s, she had been sustained by the hope of a speedy meeting with Philip. She dare not believe that Coursegol's efforts, or even the order of release which he had obtained through Vauquelas, could save them; but it seemed to her if she could only see her lover once more before she died, she could mount the scaffold without a regret.
One morning, on entering the public hall, she saw Coursegol behind the grating in the corridor. She hastened to him, and he whispered through the bars that Philip was to be brought to the Conciergerie the next day.
Dolores was overcome with joy at this news.
”As soon as M. Philip arrives here,” added Coursegol; ”we will arrange to make use of the order of release and to remove you from prison.”
”Will that be possible?” inquired Dolores.
”Certainly. All prisoners who are set at liberty are released by order of the Committee; and the order given me by Vauquelas is a fac-simile of those always used.”
”With this difference, however: the names of those to be released have not yet been inserted,” objected Dolores.
”What of that?” exclaimed Coursegol, ”I will insert the names myself, and then the order will be in favor of citoyen and citoyenne Chamondrin.”
”But if we should succeed in escaping from this prison, Coursegol, where shall we go?”
”To Bridoul's at first, where you will be safe for at least twenty-four hours. From there I shall conduct you to a cottage in the Forest of Chevreuse, some little distance from Versailles. The place is almost a wilderness; no one will ever think of looking for us there.”
Coursegol's words made a deep impression upon the girl's mind. After resigning herself to an eternal separation from the object of her love; after trampling her own heart and all her hopes of happiness under foot, and just as her peace, her future, her very life itself seemed irretrievably lost, hope sprang up from the ruins like some gorgeous flower and unfolded its brilliant petals one by one before her wondering and enraptured eyes.
”And Antoinette?” some one asks, ”Had Dolores forgotten Antoinette's right to Philip's devotion?” No; the reader knows how heroically Dolores had sacrificed her happiness for her friend's sake, and how earnestly she had endeavored to compel Philip to fulfil his father's wishes; but when Philip met her at the house of Vauquelas after their long separation, he made no allusion to the recent promise which bound him more closely than ever to Mlle. de Mirandol; and, knowing that Dolores was aware of the engagement which had formerly existed between himself and Antoinette, he did his best to make that bond appear of a trivial nature in order to induce her to listen to his suit with favor. So he had merely told Dolores that he did not love Antoinette, that he could never love Antoinette, that it was she, Dolores, whom he pa.s.sionately adored and whom he was resolved to make his wife. If we remember the influence such words as these could not fail to exercise over the mind of Dolores, and the influence exerted by the peculiar circ.u.mstances of their meeting, and by the perils that surrounded them; if we recollect, too, that Antoinette was far away and presumably beyond the reach of danger or of want, it is easy to understand how they came to forget everything but their own happiness, and to regard their marriage--until now deemed an impossibility--as a most natural and proper thing.
It was in this condition of mind that Dolores listened to Coursegol's description of the little house in the Chevreuse valley, in which they were to take refuge; but the vision of happiness conjured up by his words was rudely dispelled by a sudden commotion around her which recalled her to the grim reality of the dangers that still threatened her on every side. The jailer was reading the names of the prisoners who were to appear before the Revolutionary Tribunal the next day.
That evening, when Dolores re-entered her cell, eagerly longing for the morrow which would bring Philip once more to her side, she was followed by Aubry, who was carrying a small iron bedstead which he placed near the one occupied by Dolores.
”What are you doing?” inquired the young girl.