ilip, impetuously.

"That Citoyenne Dolores was ordered to appear before the Tribunal at ten
o'clock this morning."

Two cries rang out on the still air: a cry of rage from Philip, a cry of
anguish from Antoinette; then, with tears and exclamations of despair
they entreated Aubry to explain. All he could tell them was that Dolores
had informed him the evening before that she had been summoned before
the Tribunal; that she had requested him to inform Coursegol of the
fact; that she had left her cell, that morning, at nine o'clock, calm
and beautiful; that she had held a long conversation with Coursegol, who
was waiting for her below, after which she had left the prison to go to
the Tribunal in company with several others.

This intelligence plunged Philip and Antoinette into a state of
indescribable despair. Unable to utter a word, they looked at each other
in wild but speechless terror; and yet, in the anguish that wrung their
hearts, their thoughts followed the same course. Both were asking
themselves why Dolores had concealed the truth from them; why she had
not allowed them to die with her. It would have been so sweet to depart
together from a world from which all light seemed to have fled! Who
would have been cruel enough to refuse them the happiness of ascending
the scaffold together?

"She feared to cause us pain," said Philip, at last. "She departed
alone, not realizing that by doing so she caused us greater anguish than
she would have done had she told us the frightful truth."

As he said this, Aubry, who had left them a moment before, returned.

"The prisoners have come back. Citoyenne Dolores is with them in the
Hall of the Condemned. She wishes to see you."

"In the Hall of the Condemned!" repeated Antoinette.

That terrible word rang in their ears like the thud of the executioner's
axe. With hearts torn with anguish and despair, they wended their way to
the grim hall below. When they entered it, they found the doomed
prisoners scattered about the room, striving to conquer their emotion,
and to summon up all their strength for the terrible ordeal from which
they were separated by only three short hours. Those who, like Dolores,
had relatives or friends in the prison, had sent for them; but those who
could count on no loving farewell, sat silent and mournful, casting
glances of envy upon their more fortunate companions. Some asked and
obtained permission to go to their cells in order to write a last le