"Promised!" exclaimed Philip, with a menacing gesture for the unknown man who had dared to become his rival. "Promised!" he repeated. "To whom?"
"To God!" responded Dolores, gently. "I have just informed your father of my determination to enter a convent!"
Philip recoiled in horror and astonishment; then covering his face with his hands he fled through the lonely park, repeating again and again the name of her whom he so fondly loved but who would soon be lost to him forever. For some moments, Dolores remained motionless on the spot where she had just renounced her last hope of earthly happiness. Her eyes followed Philip in his frenzied flight, and, when he disappeared, she stretched out her hands with a gesture of mingled longing and despair. But the weakness that had made this courageous soul falter for an instant soon vanished. She lifted her eyes toward Heaven as if imploring strength from on high and then walked slowly in the direction of the château. Suddenly, at a turn in the path, 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!"