"Would you compel me to hate her?"

The cry frightened Dolores and awakened in her heart a tender pity for the unfortunate man whom she adored, even while she wrung his soul with anguish.

"Ah well! do not marry her," she replied, "if the union that your father desired is a greater sacrifice than you have strength to make; but do not hope that I shall ever be weak enough to yield to your entreaties.

Whether you love her or whether you detest her, Antoinette will forever stand between us."

On hearing these words, Philip sprang wildly to his feet, then sank back in his chair and, concealing his face in his hands, broke into pa.s.sionate sob.

The girl's powers of endurance were almost exhausted; but she still retained energy enough to attempt to put an end to this trying scene.

"The hour when the master of the house usually returns is fast approaching," she resumed. "He must not find you here. I will take you to Coursegol's room; you will be safe there."

But Philip would not heed her. He wept like a child, and, in a voice broken with sobs, he cried:

"Ah, the sacrifice you demand is too much to ask of any human creature!

G.o.d does not require it of us. If after creating us for each other it is His will that we should live forever apart and be eternally miserable, why has He united us to-night? Is not our meeting providential? Dolores, your decision cannot be irrevocable."

It required all her courage and determination to repress the loving words that rose to her lips from her overflowing heart.

"Come, Philip," she pleaded, striving to give a maternal tone to her voice.

"But promise me----"

"Ah well! to-morrow,----" she said, quietly, doing her best to calm him.

She succeeded. Philip rose, ready to follow her. She had already taken a candle from the table when footsteps were heard in the adjoining room.

"Good Heavens! it is Vauquelas! We are lost!"

"He will not enter here, perhaps," whispered Philip.

With a gesture, Dolores imposed silence: then she waited and listened, hoping that Vauquelas would pa.s.s on to his own room without pausing. Her hopes were not realized. Vauquelas rapped twice at the door.

"May I come in, Citoyenne Dolores?"

"No, I am in bed."

"Get up quickly then, and open the door. A man was seen to leap over the wall that separates the garden from the street. He must be prowling about the house. They are in pursuit of him. The police are coming."

"I am getting up," replied Dolores, anxious to gain time, and racking her brain to discover some means of escape for Philip.

"The night is very dark," he whispered. "I will go into the garden and conceal myself there until the soldiers have searched the house and gone."

Dolores nodded her approval, and went on tip-toe to the gla.s.s door to open it and let Philip out. She turned the k.n.o.b, softly opened the door, and stepped aside to let him pa.s.s. The next instant she uttered a cry of dismay, for she saw five members of the National Guard approaching the house, beating the shrubbery that bordered the path through which they were advancing with the b.u.t.t ends of their muskets. She recoiled in horror, for before she could prevent it Philip stepped out and stood for an instant plainly visible in the light that streamed through the open door ere he perceived them. As soon as they saw him, they raised their guns and took aim.

"Do not fire!" he exclaimed. "I surrender!"

And he paused, awaiting their approach. At the same moment Vauquelas entered the room by the other door. Dolores cast a despairing look at Philip, then involuntarily stepped to his side as if to protect him.

There was a moment's silence caused by surprise on the one side and terror on the other. Philip was filled with consternation not that his courage failed him, but because he was appalled by the thought of the danger in which he had involved Dolores.

As for Vauquelas, he glanced from one to the other in evident anger and astonishment. The presence of the soldiers, and the thought of the suspicions to which he--ardent patriot though he was--might be exposed on account of this stranger's arrest in his house irritated him not a little. He was about to vent his wrath and indignation upon Philip when the sergeant in command interposed, and addressing the young man, said, harshly;

"What are you doing in this house, you rascal? Who are you?"

Philip attempted to reply, but Vauquelas did not give him time.

"Who is he?" he exclaimed. "It is easy to answer that question. Some enemy of the Republic, you may be sure, who has sought shelter in my house at the risk of compromising the honor of this young girl, and my reputation as well."

Dolores trembled; then sacrificing, not without a terrible effort, her maidenly delicacy and modesty she said: "You are mistaken, Citizen Vauquelas. This man is my husband!"

"Your husband! Are you married?"

"I had a special reason for keeping the fact a secret from every one."

"But Coursegol--"

"Even he is ignorant of it," answered Dolores, with downcast eyes.

"Married! married!" repeated Vauquelas mechanically, while Philip drew nearer to Dolores and, in a voice audible to her alone, murmured:

"Ah! cruel one, had you uttered those words sooner, we should not be here now."

Dolores made no response. She cast a beseeching look upon Vauquelas. At a word from him the soldiers would have departed; but he remembered the history of Dolores which Coursegol had confided to him, and he said to himself that the adopted daughter of the late Marquis de Chamondrin would not be likely to marry other than a n.o.bleman, and that this n.o.bleman must be an implacable enemy to the new order of things, and consequently one of those men whom the Committee of Public Safety were so relentlessly pursuing. That such a person should be found in his house augured ill for his patriotism and might cost him his influence over Robespierre, so it was necessary to strike a crushing blow if he wished to emerge from this ordeal unscathed.

"Why have you concealed your marriage from me?" he inquired, turning to Dolores.

"For purely personal reasons."

"And why does your husband steal into my house like a robber, instead of entering by the door?"

"Because we wished to keep our marriage a secret."

"All this is not very clear," remarked the sergeant; then addressing Philip, he demanded:

"What is your name, and from whence do you come?"

And seeing Philip hesitate, the man continued:

"The citizen and this young woman will follow us to the station-house.

They can explain matters to the officials there; and if no blame attaches to them, they will be immediately set at liberty."

"Yes, yes, take them away," cried Vauquelas, glad of any decision that would remove the soldiers from his house.

Then Dolores comprehended that the falsehood to which she had resorted had not only failed to save Philip but had probably cost her her own life. For herself, she did not care. She had long ago sacrificed for his sake that which was a thousand times dearer than life; and now her only regret was for him. But Philip would not accept the sacrifice. When he saw that both Dolores and himself were to be placed under arrest, he exclaimed:

"This young girl has uttered a falsehood. She did it, probably, to save a stranger whom she would have forgotten in a few hours. I am not her husband, and that I have been found in her room is simply due to the fact that I took refuge here a few moments ago from a pursuer. I am the Marquis de Chamondrin. I am an emigre and a conspirator!"

"Ah, he is lost! he is lost!" murmured Dolores.