she met Coursegol. She had not
time to conceal her face and he saw her tears. The memory of the past
and the affection that filled his heart emboldened him to question one
whom he regarded in some degree, at least, as his own child.

"Why do you weep, my dear Mademoiselle?" he asked, with anxious
solicitude.

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