ed with gesture and
eye the republican _coup d'etat_, which every day drew nearer. The
meetings at Roland's multiplied and enlarged: new men joined their
ranks. Roland, Brissot, Vergniaud, Guadet, Gensonne, Condorcet, Petion,
Lanthenas, who in the hour of danger betrayed them; Valaze, Pache, who
persecuted and decimated his friends; Grangeneuve, Louvet, who beneath
levity of manners and gaiety of mind veiled undaunted courage; Chamfort,
the intimate of the great, a vivid intellect, heart full of venom,
discouraged by the people before he had served it; Carra, the popular
journalist, enthusiastic for a republic, mad with desire for liberty;
Chenier[22], the poet of the revolution, destined to survive it, and
preserving his worship of it until death, even under the tyranny of the
empire; Dusaulx, who had beneath his gray hairs the enthusiasm of youth
for philosophy--the Nestor of all the young men, whom he moderated by
his sage exhortations; Mercier, who took all as a jest, even in the
dungeon and death.

IX.

But of the men whom enthusiasm for the Revolution brought around her, he
whom Madame Roland preferred to all was Buzot. More attached to this
young female than to his party, Buzot was to her a friend, whilst the
others were but tools or accomplices. She had quickly passed her
judgment on Barbaroux, and this judgment, impressed with a certain
bitterness, was like a repentance for the secret impression which the
favourable exterior of this young man had at first inspired. She accuses
herself with finding him so handsome, and seems to fortify her heart
against the fascination of his looks. "Barbaroux is volatile," she said;
"the adoration he receives from worthless women destroys the seriousness
of his feelings. When I see such fine young men too conceited at the
impression they make, like Barbaroux and Herault de Sechelles, I cannot
help thinking that they adore themselves too much to have a great deal
of adoration left for their country."

If we may lift the veil from the heart of this virtuous woman, who does
not raise it herself for fear of developing a sentiment contrary to her
duties, we must be convinced that her instinctive inclination had been
one moment for Barbaroux, but her reflecting tenderness was for Buzot.
It is neither given to duty nor liberty to fill completely the soul of a
woman as lovely and impassioned as she: duty chills, politics deceive,
virtue retains, love fills the heart. Madame Roland