myself of a debt due to his sufferings; but do you not see that in being alone it is with you I abide? Thus I sacrifice myself to my husband by a captivity that gives me more to my friend, and I owe it to my persecutors to have reconciled duty and love: do not pity me! . . .
"Mon ami, in yours of the 15th I have recognised the manly tone of a proud and independent spirit, occupied with lofty plans, triumphing over fate, capable of generous resolutions and sustained effort. How vividly it called up the feelings which unite us! But how sad is yours of the 19th—how sombre its conclusion! A great matter, forsooth, to know whether a woman will survive you or not! What does matter is to preserve your life so as to be of use to your country; the rest will follow."
The rest will follow! With those few scornful words the prisoner puts aside the consideration of her personal lot, to invite her lover to concern himself solely about that of his country. Here we surprise the most intimate movements of Madame Roland's heart, when she had left the world behind her and was speaking to one only, and that one for ever separated from her. Is it possible for a noble nature to express intenser affection than by rendering thanks to the dungeon for having at last reconciled duty and love? And yet love itself is subordinated to her country, ever first with her.
Was it likely that she or her friends would wish to ruin France by fomenting a civil war? Their mistake really lay in miscalculating the extent of their influence and the spirit of the departments. They had fancied that their first summons would electrify the provinces, rally the country round the Girondins, and
