was now no room for
escape, for the barriers were closed and carefully watched. Madame
Roland knew perfectly well that if her friends fell she must fall with
them. She had shared their principles; she had guided their measures,
and she wished to participate in their doom. It was this honorable
feeling which led her to refuse to provide for her own safety, and
which induced her to abide, in the midst of ever increasing danger,
with her associates. No person obnoxious to suspicion could enter the
street without fearful peril, though, through the lingering hours of
the day, friends brought them tidings of the current of events.
Nothing remained to be done but to await, as patiently as possible,
the blow that was inevitably to fall.

The twilight was darkening into night, when six armed men ascended the
stairs and burst into Roland's apartment. The philosopher looked
calmly upon them as, in the name of the Convention, they informed him
of his arrest. "I do not recognize the authority of your warrant,"
said M. Roland, "and shall not voluntarily follow you. I can only
oppose the resistance of my gray hairs, but I will protest against it
with my last breath."

The leader of the party replied, "I have no orders to use violence. I
will go and report your answer to the council, leaving, in the mean
time, a guard to secure your person."

This was an hour to rouse all the energy and heroic resolution of
Madame Roland. She immediately sat down, and, with that rapidity of
action which her highly-disciplined mind had attained, wrote, in a few
moments, a letter to the Convention. Leaving a friend who was in the
house with her husband, she ordered a hackney coach, and drove as fast
as possible to the Tuileries, where the Assembly was in session. The
garden of the Tuileries was filled with the tumultuary concourse. She
forced her way through the crowd till she arrived at the doors of the
outer halls. Sentinels were stationed at all the passages, who would
not allow her to enter.

"Citizens," said she, at last adroitly adopting the vernacular of the
Jacobins, "in this day of salvation for our country, in the midst of
those traitors who threaten us, you know not the importance of some
notes which I have to transmit to the president."

These words were a talisman. The doors were thrown open, and she
entered the petitioners' hall. "I wish to see one of the messengers of
the House," she said to one of the inner sentinels.

"Wait till