et, and a heart agitated even beyond
all his powers of stoical endurance, he toiled painfully along his
dreary journey. As he was entering Moulines, his marked features were
recognized. He was arrested, taken back to Paris, and cast into
prison, where he languished for some time. He subsequently again made
his escape, and was concealed by some friends in the vicinity of
Rouen, where he remained in a state of indescribable suspense and
anguish until the death of his wife.

When Madame Roland awoke from her long sleep, instead of yielding to
despair and surrendering herself to useless repinings, she immediately
began to arrange her cell as comfortably as possible, and to look
around for such sources of comfort and enjoyment as might yet be
obtained. The course she pursued most beautifully illustrates the
power of a contented and cheerful spirit not only to alleviate the
pangs of severest affliction, but to gild with comfort even the
darkest of earthly sorrows. With those smiles of unaffected affability
which won to her all hearts, she obtained the favor of a small table,
and then of a neat white spread to cover it. This she placed near the
window to serve for her writing-desk. To keep this table, which she
prized so highly, unsoiled, she smilingly told her keeper that she
should make a dining-table of her stove. A rusty dining-table indeed
it was. Two hair-pins, which she drew from her own clustering
ringlets, she drove into a shelf for pegs to hang her clothes upon.
These arrangements she made as cheerfully as when superintending the
disposition of the gorgeous furniture in the palace over which she had
presided with so much elegance and grace. Having thus provided her
study, her next care was to obtain a few books. She happened to have
Thomson's Seasons, a favorite volume of hers, in her pocket. Through
the jailer's wife she succeeded in obtaining Plutarch's Lives and
Sheridan's Dictionary.

The jailer and his wife were both charmed with their prisoner, and
invited her to dine with them that day. In the solitude of her cell
she could distinctly hear the rolling of drums, the tolling of bells,
and all those sounds of tumult which announced that the storm of
popular insurrection was still sweeping through the streets. One of
her faithful servants called to see her, and, on beholding her
mistress in such a situation, the poor girl burst into tears. Madame
Roland was, for a moment, overcome by this sensibility; she, howev