ays, "and Rousseau made the same impression on me as
Plutarch had done when I was eight. Plutarch had disposed me to
republicanism; he had awakened the energy and pride which are its
characteristics; he inspired me with a true enthusiasm for public
virtue and freedom. Rousseau showed me domestic happiness, and the
ineffable felicity I was capable of tasting." She now returned to her
studies. Her friends, among whom she numbered some literary men,
finding that she committed her reflections to writing, predicted that
she would become an author. But she was not ambitious of public
distinction; she had adopted the sentiment of Rousseau, that the
"dignity of woman is in being unknown; her glory, in the esteem of her
husband; her pleasures, in the happiness of her family." "I saw," says
Madame Roland, "that an authoress loses more than she gains. My chief
object was my own happiness, and I never knew the public interfere
with that for any one without spoiling it; there is nothing more
delightful than to be appreciated by those with whom one lives, and
nothing so empty as the admiration of those whom we are never to
meet."

In her school-girl days, Manon had formed a friendship with a girl of
her own age, named Sophia, and the intercourse was still kept up by
letters. Sophia felt the highest admiration for her friend, and often
spoke of it. Among those who, through her, became acquainted with
Manon's character was M. Roland, a man whose great simplicity of
character and strict integrity had gained for him universal esteem and
confidence. His family was not of the ancient nobles, but of official
dignity. He was fond of study, and laborious in the pursuit of
knowledge. He had long sought for an introduction to Mademoiselle
Philipon, and Sophia at length gave him a letter of introduction.
"This letter," she writes, "will be given you by the philosopher I
have often mentioned, M. Roland, an enlightened and excellent man, who
can only be reproached for his great admiration of the ancients at
the expense of the moderns, whom he despises, and his weakness in
liking to talk too much about himself."

M. Roland's appearance was not calculated to make a favorable
impression upon a young woman; his manners were cold and stiff; he was
careless in his dress, and he had passed the meridian of life. But
Mademoiselle Philipon discerned and appreciated his excellence, and
received him to her friendship and confidence. For five years, this
in