"Of whom are you speaking, unhappy girl?"
"Of Captain Horace, madame," said Dolores, curtseying with mock reverence. "He is coming to carry me away."
"What impudence! Ah, you think that in spite of me—"
"We are at the bottom of the garden, madame; cry, call, nobody will hear you."
"Oh, what horrible treason!" cried the mother superior. "But it is impossible! The men on guard have not dared leave the boulevard since nightfall."
"Horatio!" cried Dolores, in a clear, silvery voice. "My Horatio!"
"Shameless creature!" cried Sister Prudence, in desperation, rushing forward to seize Dolores by the arm. But the Spanish girl, nimble as a gazelle, with two bounds was out of the reach of Sister Prudence, whose limbs, stiffened by age, refused to lend themselves to gymnastic exercise; and already overcome, she cried, wringing her hands:
"Oh, those miserable patrols! They have not been on guard. I would cry, but they would not hear me at the convent. To run there is to leave this wretched girl here alone! Ah, I understand too late why this serpent wished to prolong our walk."
"Horatio," cried Dolores a second time, holding herself at a distance from the mother superior, "my dear Horatio!"
"Descend!" cried a ringing male voice which seemed to come from the sky.