"That miserable Gascon," said the priest. "Oh, James! everything is discovered; you are lost!" said Angela, uttering a cry of despair; and she threw herself into the arms of Monmouth. "Fly; there is still time." "Fly, and where? there is but one road to Devil's Cliff, and from it. I tell you that they follow me," said the priest; "but be calm, nothing is hopeless." "Explain yourself, Father, what is it? In mercy speak, speak!" said Angela. "Father, you alone knew my secret; I would rather believe the impossible than doubt your sacred word," said the duke gravely. "And you are right not to doubt it, my son. There is some unaccountable mystery, which will come to light some day, believe me; but the minutes are too precious to seek now for the cause of the misfortune which menaces you. I hurried to you, then I have not betrayed you. Let us think of what is most pressing. Under this disguise it is impossible that you should be recognized," said the priest. "But that is not all; your situation has become almost inextricable." "What do you say?" "This Gascon is a traitor; a scoundrel. May God pardon me for having been so deceived in him and having made you partake of my error. Cursed be the hypocrite." "On the contrary," said Angela, "he is the most generous of men; he has voluntarily devoted himself for my husband." "Yes, he has assumed your name," said the priest to the prince, "but do you know for what vile purpose?" "Tell me, oh, tell me! I am dying of fear," cried Angela. "Listen, then," said the priest, "for the moments fly and the danger approaches. This morning I received at Macouba a letter from Captain Morris, of Fort Royal, in compliance with the order he had received from you to warn me of all arrivals of vessels and of those whose appearance seemed unusual. He sent me a special message to inform me that a French frigate had dropped anchor in sight of the harbor, after having sent an unknown passenger ashore. This person, after a long conference with the governor, started at the head of an escort in the direction of Devil's Cliff. In fact, he comes here." "An agent of France," said Monmouth; "what have I to fear at present, even if my secret was known at Versailles? Is not France at war with England?" "My God! my God! have pity on us!" cried Angela.