rench.
For domestic happiness she seemed to care little. The excitement of
Parisian society was her heaven, and into this she entered with all the
ardor of her nature. Her marriage had given her every freedom, although
it does not appear that she was much restrained before,--for a French
girl; and she dashed into the whirlpool of the gayest society in the
world with a sort of intoxication. Her vivacity and enthusiasm knew no
bounds, and she held her own little court in every assembly, at which
the envious and unnoticed looked askance. She was regarded as a
dangerously fascinating woman, although personally she was so entirely
unattractive.

For three years she enjoyed her triumphs to the utmost. Then came the
earthquake which dissolved the fair fabric of her dreams. The Reign of
Terror began, and Paris was in the wildest ferment. Of course, she was
in the very midst of those exciting events, and her influence was of
moment in the terrific crisis. Her position gave her influence, and she
worked with all the strength and enthusiasm of her nature to aid the
escape of her friends and to succor the endangered. All the powers of
her remarkable mind were put into active service, and she seems never to
have thought of herself. To be sure, she was as inviolable as any one
could be considered in that fearful time, but she had a rare courage and
unbounded fortitude, and would have worked as she did even at personal
hazard. She prevailed upon the ferocious Revolutionists to show mercy in
some cases where they were bound to have blood. She concealed her
friends and even strangers in her house, and she used all the powers of
her marvellous eloquence to turn the tide of revolution backward. But it
was in vain. Her father was deposed, her friends were murdered, her king
was slain, all of her society were under surveillance, she herself
everybody thought in danger, but she would not leave her beloved Paris.
Her husband was in Holland, and thought she was subjecting her children
to needless peril; but she still had hope that somehow she might be
useful to her country. The sublime confidence which she had in her own
powers did not desert her. She saw the streets flow with blood, one
might say,--for the murders of the Revolutionists were of daily
occurrence,--but it was not until all hope of being of use was gone that
she took her children to England.

Here a little colony of French exiles were already established, and she
became at once