This question did not wound Dolores; on the contrary it consoled her. She had found some one in whom she could confide. There are hours when the heart longs to pour out its sorrows to another heart that understands and sympathizes with its woes. Coursegol made his appearance at a propitious moment. Dolores regarded him with something very like filial affection; she had loved him devotedly even when she supposed herself the daughter of the Marquis de Chamondrin, and now that she knew her origin she regarded the son of a peasant as equal in every respect to a descendent of the gypsies, so she did not hesitate to open her soul to him. She told him of the conflicts through which she had passed and the suffering they had caused her. She acknowledged the ardent love that had given her courage and strength to sacrifice her own happiness; and she wept before the friend of her childhood as unrestrainedly as she would have wept before her own father. "I have been expecting this," said Coursegol, sadly. "Poor children, the truth was revealed too soon. You should have been left in ignorance until one of you was married. Then you would not have thought of uniting your destinies. Your mutual friendship would not have been transformed into an unfortunate passion and all this misery would have been avoided." "It would have been far better," replied Dolores. "And now what do you intend to do?" inquired Coursegol. "I shall enter a convent and remain there until Philip marries." "You in a convent! You, who are so gay, so full of life and health and exuberant spirits, immure yourself in a cloister! Impossible!" "There is no alternative," said Dolores, repeating to Coursegol what she had already said to the Marquis. "I see that you must leave this house, but why do you select a cloister for your retreat?" "Where else could I, alone and unprotected, find a refuge?" "Do you not know that Coursegol is your friend, and that he is ready to leave everything and follow you? Where do you wish to go? I will accompany you; I will serve and defend you. I have some little property and it is entirely at your disposal." He made this offer very simply, but in a tone that left no possible doubt of his sincerity. Though she was touched by his devotion, Dolores firmly refused. She explained that his place was at the chateau, and that, as she expected to return there herself after Philip's marriage, a convent would be the safest and most dignified retreat she could enter. "So be it, then," responded Coursegol; "but should you ever change your plans, remember that my life, my little fortune and my devotion are yours, to use as you see fit." His emotion, as he spoke, was even greater than hers.