ttitude and polished dignity of the citizen. Even in revolutions,
the _parvenu_ of liberty is long seen in the vanquisher. Women's tact is
very sensitive to these nice shades. Madame Roland understood them, but,
so far from allowing herself to be seduced by this superiority of
aristocracy, she was but the more indignant, and felt her hatred
redoubled against a party which it was possible to overcome but
impossible to humble.

XV.

It was at this period that she and her husband united with some of the
most ardent amongst the apostles of popular ideas. It was not they who,
as yet, were foremost in the favour of the people, and the _eclat_ of
talent,--it was they who appeared to it, to love the Revolution for the
Revolution itself, and to devote themselves, with sublime
disinterestedness, not to the success of their fortune, but to the
progress of humanity. Brissot was one of the first. M. and Madame Roland
had been, for a long time, in correspondence with him on matters of
public economy, and the more important problems of liberty. Their ideas
had fraternised and expanded together. They were united beforehand by
all the fibres of their revolutionary hearts, but, as yet, did not know
it. Brissot, whose adventurous life, and unwearied contentions were
allied to the youth of Mirabeau, had already acquired a name in
journalism and the clubs. Madame Roland awaited him with respect; she
was curious to judge if his features resembled the physiognomy of his
mind. She believed that nature revealed herself by all forms, and that
the understanding and virtue modelled the external senses of men just
as the statuary impresses on the clay the outward forms of his
conception. The first appearance undeceived, without discouraging her in
her admiration of Brissot. He wanted that dignity of aspect, and that
gravity of character which seem like a reflection of the dignity, life,
and seriousness of his doctrines. There was something in the man
political, which recalled the pamphleteer. His levity shocked her; even
his gaiety seemed to her a profanation of the grave ideas of which he
was the organ. The Revolution, which gave passion to his style, did not
throw any passion into his countenance. She did not find in him enough
hatred against the enemies of the people. The mobile mind of Brissot did
not appear to have sufficient consistency for a feeling of devotion. His
activity, directed upon all matters, gave him the appearance of a novice