Part 26 (1/2)
Dolores rose, took her friend in her arms as if she were a child, and said gently:
”Be comforted, I entreat you. Your imagination deceives you and leads you far from the truth. It is possible that Philip, on meeting me again, was moved by some of the emotions that are often awakened in the heart by memories of the past; but these emotions are fleeting and do not endanger your happiness. If Philip once cherished fancies that troubled your peace, you know that my departure sufficed to cure him of them; and should these foolish fancies revive, my departure will again suffice to dispel them and to restore to you the heart to which you, and you alone, have an inalienable claim.”
These words rea.s.sured Antoinette. She ceased to weep, and her whole heart seemed to go out in grat.i.tude to Dolores. The latter continued:
”If G.o.d wills that we recover our freedom, you shall depart with Philip.
As for me, I shall take refuge in some convent in a foreign land. My place is there, and I solemnly a.s.sure you that I shall never marry.”
”Ah! how I thank you!” cried Antoinette. ”You have restored my happiness and my peace of mind.”
Love is selfish, and Antoinette knew nothing of Dolores' struggles. She did not attempt to fathom the motives of her friend, and relieved by the a.s.surance she had just received, and no longer doubting her ability to regain her lost influence over Philip, she pa.s.sed suddenly from the poignant suffering we have described to a state of peaceful security.
CHAPTER XIV.
THE THUNDERBOLT.
Three days pa.s.sed, leaving the situation of affairs unchanged.
Antoinette and Dolores saw Philip but seldom, though they were living under the same roof, so persistently did he avoid them. If he chanced to enter the hall when they were there, he took refuge with some of the groups of gentlemen, where the two girls would not be likely to approach him unless they had something of great importance to communicate to their ungracious friend.
What Philip utterly lacked, after the events recounted in the last chapter, was resignation. He felt, that Dolores was irrevocably lost to him, and that even if she left the prison alive, she would instantly place an impa.s.sable barrier between them; but though he was convinced of this, he could not make up his mind to submit to a decision that destroyed all his hopes of happiness; so he hoped and despaired by turns, sometimes a.s.suring himself that he could find words sufficiently eloquent to move Dolores, sometimes admitting with a sort of desperation that nothing could shake the firmness of the young girl who had resolved to sacrifice her happiness for the sake of duty.
Antoinette and Dolores respected his sadness and his evident desire for solitude. They spent most of their time together in their own little room, happy in being again united, and bearing the trials that beset them on every side with wonderful fort.i.tude. Each evening found them astonished that they had not been summoned before the Revolutionary Tribunal; and each evening they said, not without anguish:
”The summons will come, perhaps, to-morrow.”
The fourth day after Philip's arrival at the Conciergerie, Aubry, the jailer, who had shown Dolores so much kindness and attention, obtained leave of absence for the day, and engaged Coursegol to take his place.
Once before he had made a similar arrangement, and Coursegol had thus been able to spend almost an entire day with Dolores.
His anxiety to see her now, was increased by his desire to fix upon a plan whereby he could rescue her and also Philip from the danger that threatened them. He brought with him the order in which he had inserted their names, and which would set ”Citoyen and Citoyenne Chamondrin” at liberty. He was not aware of Antoinette's arrest, and when he entered the cell and saw Mlle. de Mirandol, he uttered an exclamation of dismay.
”You here, mademoiselle!” he cried.
”Yes, I have been here three days.”
”But the order releases only two persons!” he exclaimed, sorrowfully.
Antoinette did not understand him; she had heard nothing about the order to which he alluded; but Dolores quickly approached Coursegol and said, hurriedly, in a low voice:
”Not another word. Give me the order. When the proper time comes, it shall be used by those who have the best right to it.”
Coursegol reluctantly obeyed. He was convinced that Dolores would concentrate all her efforts upon the deliverance of Philip and Antoinette; and he almost hated the latter who, for the second time, imperiled the life and happiness of one so dear to him.
”Before, it was her presence in the chateau that prevented the marriage of my dear Dolores to the man she loved; to-day, after I have worked so hard to secure their liberty and the realization of their hopes, it is she who destroys all my plans,” he thought. Perhaps he would have given vent to his feelings had not Dolores, who seemed to read what was pa.s.sing in his mind, made an imperative sign; so he withdrew and went to join Philip, and to tell him that the order was in the hands of Dolores.
”It will not be used,” said Philip, sadly. ”If it would open the prison doors for two women, I could induce them to go; but since I must go out with one of them, and as neither will consent to save her life at the cost of the other's, we shall all remain.”
”Then all my efforts will be lost,” cried Coursegol, despairingly; ”and I shall be compelled to see you perish after I have accomplished miracles in order to save you.”