During the days that followed this conversation, Philip, faithful to his promise, made no allusion to the scene we have just described. For four years he had buried his secret so deeply in his own heart that even Coursegol had not suspected it, so he did not find it difficult to continue this role under the eyes of his father; and, though the burden he imposed upon himself had become much heavier by reason of the presence of Dolores, his hopes supplied him with strength to endure it. For his hopes were great! Youthful hearts have no fear. He was not ignorant of his father's plans; but he told himself that his father loved him too much to cause him sorrow, and that he would probably be glad to sacrifice his ambitious dreams if he could ensure the happiness of both his children. Philip was sure of this. If he invoked the memory of his mother and the love she bore Dolores, the Marquis could not refuse his consent. He confidently believed that before six mouths had elapsed he should be married and enjoying a felicity so perfect as to leave nothing more to be desired. Cheered by this hope, he impatiently awaited the decision of Dolores, happy, however, in living near her, in seeing her every day, in listening to her voice and in accompanying her on her walks. He watched himself so carefully that no word revealed the real condition of his mind, and not even the closest observer of his language and actions could have divined the existence of the sentiments upon which he was, at that very moment, basing his future happiness.