Then Dolores comprehended that the falsehood to which she had resorted had not only failed to save Philip but had probably cost her her own life. For herself, she did not care. She had long ago sacrificed for his sake that which was a thousand times dearer than life; and now her only regret was for him. But Philip would not accept the sacrifice. When he saw that both Dolores and himself were to be placed under arrest, he exclaimed:
"This young girl has uttered a falsehood. She did it, probably, to save a stranger whom she would have forgotten in a few hours. I am not her husband, and that I have been found in her room is simply due to the fact that I took refuge here a few moments ago from a pursuer. I am the Marquis de Chamondrin. I am an Émigré and a conspirator!"
"Ah, he is lost! he is lost!" murmured Dolores.
On hearing Philip's confession, Vauquelas sprang towards him, wild with rage.
"You call yourself Philip de Chamondrin?" he demanded.
"That is my name."
"Then you are the adopted brother of this young girl, and if you, an Émigré and a conspirator, are here, it can only be because she is your accomplice. Vile wretch! to make my house a rendezvous for the enemies of the Nation!"
Anger crimsoned his cheeks and glittered in his eyes. He actually frothed with rage.
"Arrest them! Arrest them both!" he exclaimed.
Philip, who had supposed he could save Dolores by the confession he had just made, could not repress a movement of wrath and despair.