As she spoke, Dolores compelled Antoinette to rise and take a seat beside her; then she talked to her gently, but firmly. Their roles seemed to be changed; she who was about to die, consoled her whose life was spared. While this conversation was going on between Antoinette and Dolores, Philip, terribly pale, questioned Coursegol and learned from him what had taken place. He envied this devoted servant who was about to die with Dolores. He vainly strove to discover some means by which he could draw down upon his own head the wrath of the accusateur, Fouquier-Tinville, and be sent at once to the scaffold. Coursegol told his story simply and modestly. Rendered desperate by the condemnation of Dolores, he resolved to share her fate, feeling no desire to survive the loss of one so dear to him. "How greatly preferable your destiny is to mine!" cried Philip, bitterly. "Would I could die in your place." Dolores heard these words, and leaving Antoinette, she approached Philip and said: "Do not speak thus, Philip. To-day, God declares His will to you. Unintentionally, I was an obstacle to the fulfilment of the vows you had made. God recalls me to Him. You long to die with me, you say. You must not die, you must live, for your life belongs to one who has put her trust in you. Your life belongs to her, and your name; and no one is more worthy than Antoinette to bear your name." Philip passionately interrupted her: "I am no saint, I am a man! Why do you talk to me of promises and of duty? Whatever I may have said, whatever I may have promised, if I have not told you that I loved you, if I have not told you that I should always love you, I have lied. Read my--heart; you will behold your name, your name alone, written there; and tell me, courageous creature, noble-hearted woman, how can one stifle the aspirations of a love which has been the only joy, the only torment of one's life? Remember the past, Dolores--our childhood, the blissful existence in which love was first awakened in our hearts. I do not know what was passing in yours; but mine has nourished but one thought, cherished but one hope: to belong to you and to possess you. Upon this hope have I lived. It has been the strength and the weakness of my life; its deepest sorrow and its purest joy." While he was thus speaking in low tones that he might not be overheard, Antoinette, after exchanging a few remarks with Coursegol, approached them. Not a single word uttered by Philip had escaped her, and her terror-stricken eyes and drawn features betrayed her agony. "Was this dream of mine so unutterably wild and hopeless?" continued Philip, not perceiving Antoinette, and refusing to heed Dolores' warning sign. "Does a man display a culpable ambition when he longs for a calm and happy life with an adored wife who is worthy of him? And yet, the first time I spoke of this love, you said to me: 'Antoinette loves you; marry her;' and when I still pleaded, you added: 'I belong to God.'"