therto reserved for his adopted sister. It was just as Antoinette was
becoming too much interested in Philip for her own peace of mind that
she noticed his change of manner. She misunderstood him. Who would not
have been deceived? During their rambles, Philip seemed to take pleasure
in walking by her side. Every morning she found beside her plate a
bouquet which he had culled. He never went to Avignon or to Nimes
without bringing some little souvenir for her. What interpretation could
she place upon these frequent marks of interest? Her own love made her
credulous. After receiving many such attentions from him, she fancied
she comprehended his motive.

"He loves me," she said one evening to Dolores.

The latter thought her bereft of her senses. Could it be possible that
Philip had forgotten his former love so soon? Was he deceiving her when
he pressed his suit with such ardor? Impossible! How could she suppose
it even for a moment? Still Dolores could not even imagine such a
possibility without a shudder. After the struggle between her conscience
and her heart, she had secretly resolved that Philip should cease to
love her, that she would sacrifice herself to Mademoiselle de Mirandol,
to whose charms he could not long remain insensible and whom he would
eventually marry. Yes; she was ready to see her own misery consummated
without a murmur; but to be thus forgotten in a few weeks seemed
terrible.

"If this is really so," she thought, "Philip is as unworthy of
Antionette as he is of me. But it cannot be. She is mistaken."

Was Antoinette deceiving herself? To set her mind at rest upon this
point, Dolores questioned her friend in regard to the acts and words
which she had interpreted as proofs of Philip's love for her.
Mademoiselle de Mirandol revealed them to her friend; and Dolores was
reassured. The attentions that had been bestowed upon the ward of the
Marquis de Chamondrin by that gentleman's son did not assume in the eyes
of Dolores that importance which had been attributed to them by her more
romantic and enthusiastic companion; nevertheless, she was careful not
to disturb a conviction that caused Antoinette so much happiness.

The following day, as Mademoiselle de Mirandol was leaving her room, she
encountered Philip in the hall.

"I wish to speak with you," he said, rapidly and in low tones as he
passed her. "I will wait for you in the park near the Buissieres."

His pleasant voice rung in Antoinette's ear