"In fifteen minutes they will be here," he cried.
"Who, then, Father," said Monmouth.
"That miserable Gascon," said the priest.
"Oh, James! everything is discovered; you are lost!" said Angela, uttering a cry of despair; and she threw herself into the arms of Monmouth. "Fly; there is still time."
"Fly, and where? there is but one road to Devil's Cliff, and from it. I tell you that they follow me," said the priest; "but be calm, nothing is hopeless."
"Explain yourself, Father, what is it? In mercy speak, speak!" said Angela.
"Father, you alone knew my secret; I would rather believe the impossible than doubt your sacred word," said the duke gravely.
"And you are right not to doubt it, my son. There is some unaccountable mystery, which will come to light some day, believe me; but the minutes are too precious to seek now for the cause of the misfortune which menaces you. I hurried to you, then I have not betrayed you. Let us think of what is most pressing. Under this disguise it is impossible that you should be recognized," said the priest. "But that is not all; your situation has become almost inextricable."
"What do you say?"
"This Gascon is a traitor; a scoundrel. May God pardon me for having been so deceived in him and having made you partake of my error. Cursed be the hypocrite."