.

"Shall we still persist in shunning one another?" Antoinette asked
Philip.

"No, no," he replied, touched by the tender sorrow in her voice; "let us
be together while we can; then, should death be our portion, we shall
not be obliged to regret that we have not consecrated to friendship the
few moments left at our disposal."

"That is well, Philip," rejoined Dolores, and as she could say no more
in Antoinette's presence without revealing the secret she wished to
conceal, she extended her hand to her friend as if in approval of his
decision.

They remained together until the usual signal warned the prisoners that
they must retire to their cells and extinguish their lights; but no
allusion was made to the order of release. Philip and Dolores seemed to
have tacitly agreed to conceal from Antoinette the fact that her
unforeseen arrival had prevented their immediate restoration to liberty.

The next morning Dolores went down to the public hall, and there held a
long conversation with Philip.

"Since God has united us here," she said to him; "let us enjoy the time
he has given us, and allow no differences to creep in between us and
destroy the peace and harmony that are our only consolation. I do not
wish to know your feelings, whatever they may be. You must constantly
bear in mind these two things, Philip--that I can never, never be your
wife, and that you owe Antoinette reparation. This is the duty that life
imposes upon you. So accept your destiny, and no longer pain us by the
sight of your despondency. It only renders me miserable and it can
change nothing."

Philip listened with bowed head to these firm words. He said to himself:

"She is right. Why should we concern ourselves about the future, since
the present allows me to remain by her side? We are ever on the
threshold of the grave, here. Alas! we must escape from the shadow of
death that is hanging over us before we make any plans for the future."

But he was touched, and while he mentally resolved to keep his love and
his hopes a secret in his own heart, he bowed over the hand of Dolores,
and raising it to his lips, said:

"You speak wisely, my sister. I will be worthy of you."

This day was the first that passed happily for the three whose
life-history we are attempting to relate. Unfortunately, this
long-sought happiness was to endure but for a day. The very next
afternoon after the just described, all the prisoners were assembled in
the main hall