"She feared to cause us pain," said Philip, at last. "She departed alone, not realizing that by doing so she caused us greater anguish than she would have done had she told us the frightful truth."
As he said this, Aubry, who had left them a moment before, returned.
"The prisoners have come back. Citoyenne Dolores is with them in the Hall of the Condemned. She wishes to see you."
"In the Hall of the Condemned!" repeated Antoinette.
That terrible word rang in their ears like the thud of the executioner's axe. With hearts torn with anguish and despair, they wended their way to the grim hall below. When they entered it, they found the doomed prisoners scattered about the room, striving to conquer their emotion, and to summon up all their strength for the terrible ordeal from which they were separated by only three short hours. Those who, like Dolores, had relatives or friends in the prison, had sent for them; but those who could count on no loving farewell, sat silent and mournful, casting glances of envy upon their more fortunate companions. Some asked and obtained permission to go to their cells in order to write a last letter to their friends, or give directions concerning the few articles that remained at their disposal. Some had ordered choice viands and rare wines, not wishing to die before they had again enjoyed the pleasures of the table, in default of something better; while coming and going in the midst of them, were the clerks of the Tribunal, the executioner's assistants and the turnkeys of the prison, who hung about, hoping the condemned would bestow some gratuity upon them before leaving the prison. Dolores had seated herself upon a bench that stood against the wall. The passion of weeping to which she had yielded after Coursegol's heroic deed, had calmed her. He was standing by her side, looking down upon her with a in which there was neither bitterness nor Nothing could be more peaceful than the delicate features of the young girl and the energetic face that bent over her, though traces of the tears which had been wrung from them in a moment of despair were still visible.
Antoinette, followed by Philip, rushed toward Dolores, threw herself at her feet, and, resting her head on the lap of her friend, sobbed unrestrainedly.
"Antoinette, do not, I entreat you, deprive me of courage at a moment when I stand so greatly in need of it," said Dolores.
"How cruel in you not to have told us!" cried Antoinette.
"I wished to save you pain. We must be resigned and submit to the fate that awaits us; and we must not allow emotion to deprive us of the strength to die bravely and courageously."