"And do you think this hope will suffice for me?" cried Coursegol. "Since I took you from the breast of your dying mother on the threshold of the Château de Chamondrin, I have loved you more and more each day. I lived for you and for you alone. My every hope and ambition were centred in you. You were my joy, my happiness, the only charm life had for me; and to see you condemned, you, the innocent—"
Sobs choked his utterance.
"Show me the charges against you," he demanded, suddenly.
"What is the use?" rejoined Dolores, desiring to conceal the truth from him until the last.
"I wish to know the crimes of which you are accused," persisted Coursegol. "There are no proofs against you. I will find a lawyer to defend you—if need be, I, myself will defend you."
"It would be useless, my friend. Your efforts would only compromise you, without saving me."
As she spoke, she heard quick footsteps behind her. She turned. The officer who was there the evening before had returned to conduct the prisoners to the Tribunal. He began to call their names.
"Farewell, farewell," murmured Dolores, huskily.
In this parting from the friend who had loved her so long and faithfully, she experienced the first pang of anguish that had assailed her heart since she had decided to sacrifice her own life for Antoinette's sake.
"Not farewell," responded Coursegol, "but au revoir!"