Under these circumstances one can easily understand why she had awaited Philip's coming with such feverish impatience. Three weeks had passed since she had seen him; and all Mrs. Reed's caresses and well-meant attempts at consolation had failed to overcome her chagrin. Philip had come at last! She had sprung forward to meet him without making any effort to conceal the joy awakened by the prospect of a day spent with him, and she had hardly done this when the young man announced that he must leave in an hour. "Will you explain the cause of this hasty departure?" she said, as soon as they were alone. Her voice trembled and her lovely eyes were dim with tears. "I am leaving you, Antoinette, to go where duty calls me," replied Philip, gravely. "Duty? What duty?" "The queen is still imprisoned in the Temple. It is said that she will soon be sentenced to death. I have formed the project of wresting her from the hands of her enemies, of rescuing her from their sanguinary fury." "Alone?" cried Antoinette, overcome with terror at the thought of the dangers Philip would incur. "Six of us have resolved to save her or die! We go together. A vessel is to convey us to the coast of Brittany. From there we shall make our way to Paris as best we can." "But what can you do, you, so few in number?" "God will be with us," replied Philip. "Besides, we shall find friends in Paris who will gladly join our little band." On hearing these words which proved that Philip's determination was immovable, Antoinette could not control her emotion. She sank into an arm chair, covered her pale face with her trembling hands and burst into tears. "Do not weep so bitterly, my dear Antoinette," said Philip, touched by her despair and kneeling beside her. "Why did you not consult me before engaging in this mad and perilous undertaking?" she said, at last. "You are leaving me, abandoning me without even asking what my fate will be when I no longer have you to protect me; without thinking how I shall suffer in your absence, and forgetting that if you should be killed I too should die!" Philip, deeply moved, took her hands and said, gently: "Be comforted; I shall not die; you will see me again soon. Do you not feel that I should be dishonored if I shrank from the task that is before me? Could you respect a man who might be justly accused of cowardice and of failure to perform his duty. The queen was formerly my benefactress; how can I stand here to-day, and make no effort to rescue her from death?" "But if you should die!" This cry betrayed Antoinette's love in all its passionate intensity, and it found an echo in Philip's heart. "I shall not be killed," said he, trying to make Mlle. de Mirandol share the conviction that animated his own mind; then, seeing her so sad and heart-broken at his departure, he added, with mingled remorse and tenderness: "When I return, the fulfilment of the promise I made you shall be no longer delayed."