"What!" she exclaimed, "on the day of an insurrection, when only two hours before forty thousand men in arms surrounded the Convention, while petitioners threatened its members from the bar, the Assembly is not permanent! Then assuredly it must be subjugated!"
She had no option but to return home again. By this time the streets, though illuminated, were almost deserted. At the Pont Neuf the coach was stopped by the sentry asking "Who goes there? Some parley there was with him; but she got off at last, and was glad indeed to reach home in safety. As she was ascending the stairs, a man who had slipped through the gate unperceived by the porter accosted her with an inquiry about Citizen Roland. Madame Roland, arrived at last in her room, bathed in perspiration and worn out with fatigue, kissed her sleeping daughter, and was just dashing off a note to her husband when again startled by a loud knocking.
It was near midnight. The tramp of heavy feet resounded on the stairs. The pen remained suspended in her hand as a numerous deputation of the Commune entered her room. They asked for Roland, and, on her replying that he was not in, exclaimed roughly that she must be perfectly aware of his whereabouts. "I know not," she said, whether your orders authorise you to ask such questions, but I know that nothing can oblige me to answer them."
After a whispered consultation the men withdrew, but the sentinel left at her door and the guard before the house apprised Roland's wife what to expect. She ordered some supper, finished her note, and then, thoroughly exhausted after a day of unprecedented excitement, went to bed, and slept as soundly as if
