"Have pity on me!" she entreated. "Before I go, I will call you to bid you a last farewell."
They left her. She remained alone with the other prisoners who had been condemned to death. Among them was the priest of whom we have already spoken; the same who had consoled and blessed her. He was seated in a corner of the room and many of the poor creatures, whose moments on earth were now numbered, had knelt before him to confess their sins and receive absolution. Dolores followed the example of her companions in misfortune. Purified by suffering and sanctified by the approach of death, her full confession revealed such nobility of character that the worthy priest was filled with admiration.
"Now I am ready," she said to Coursegol. "Death may come."
"So young and so beautiful, and to die!" he exclaimed, sadly.
"Are you going to bewail my fate?" she inquired, with a smile. "It is unnecessary, for I am very happy."
"It is the thought of the sacrifice you have accomplished that renders you thus happy!"
"Hush!" she said, quickly. "Who has spoken to you of a sacrifice? It must never be mentioned. Antoinette and Philip must never know that I died in place of another."
"A saint might utter words like those," he murmured. Then beholding her cheerful, courageous and inspired with the holy enthusiasm of the martyrs, he added: "I am glad to die with you. You will open the portals of Heaven for me; and I will cling so closely to you, pure soul, that they will let me follow you in."
Thus were these two souls elevated to the grandest heroism by the very simplicity of their devotion. There was certainly not a drop of noble blood in the veins of either of them, and yet they went to meet death valiantly, like saints.