oted here that though Mme. Roland had lost her belief in
ecclesiastical systems, and, as she said, continued to go to mass only
for the "edification of her neighbors and the good order of society,"
there was always in her nature a strong undercurrent of religious
feeling. Her faith had not survived the full illumination of her reason,
but her trust in immortality never seriously wavered. The Invocation
that was among her last written words is the prayer of a soul that is
conscious of its divine origin and destiny. She retained, too, the firm
moral basis that was laid in her early teachings, and which saved her
from the worst errors of her time. She might be shaken by the storms of
passion, but one feels that she could never be swept from her moorings.

Tall and finely developed, with dark brown hair; a large mouth whose
beauty lay in a smile of singular sweetness; dark, serious eyes with
a changeful expression which no artist could catch; a fresh complexion
that responded to every emotion of a passionate soul; a deep,
well-modulated voice; manners gentle, modest, reserved, sometimes
timid with the consciousness that she was not readily taken at her true
value--such was the PERSONNELLE of the woman who calmly weighed the
possibilities of a life which had no longer a pleasant outlook in any
direction, and, after much hesitation, became the wife of a grave,
studious, austere man of good family and moderate fortune, but many
years her senior.

It was this marriage, into which she entered with all seriousness, and a
devotion that was none the less sincere because it was of the intellect
rather than the heart, that gave the final tinge to a character that was
already laid on solid foundations. Strong, clear-sighted, earnest, and
gifted, her later experience had accented a slightly ascetic quality
which had been deepened also by her study of antique models. Her tastes
were grave and severe. But they had a lighter side. As a child she had
excelled in music, dancing, drawing, and other feminine accomplishments,
though one feels always that her distinctive talent does not lie in
these things. She is more at home with her thoughts. There was a touch
of poetry, too, in her nature, that under different circumstances might
have lent it a softer and more graceful coloring. She had a natural love
for the woods and the flowers. The single relief to her somber life at
La Platiere, after her marriage, was in the long and lonely rambles in