no dangers encompassed her. She had not been asleep above an hour when a servant roused her to say that gentlemen from the Section wished to speak with her. While she was carefully dressing herself, the maid seemed astonished at her mistress putting on more than a dressing-gown. "It is well to be decent when one is going out, my child," said Madame Roland, calmly. The poor woman looked at her and burst into tears.
"We have come to arrest you," said one of the men on her appearance. After protesting against the illegality of the order, she judged it more prudent to acquiesce than to expose herself to any violent proceedings by a refusal. A Justice of the Peace had arrived, and now affixed seals to every article of furniture, even to the chest of drawers. She begged to be allowed to take out her daughter's clothes, made up a small bundle for herself, and wrote to commend Eudora to the care of a friend, but when the bearer of the warrant asked to see the address, she tore the epistle into shreds for fear of compromising her friend.
In the meanwhile a promiscuous crowd had invaded the premises. The pale reflection of dawn mixing with the candle-light showed sinister faces peering about. The fœtid atmosphere, caused by the press of unwashed intruders, forced Madame Roland to throw open a window and inhale the morning air. Her daughter clung sobbing about her. The servants stood round scared and helpless. The loving mother, the kindly mistress, was to be torn from them, dragged to prison; and as she bade them farewell, entreating them to be calm, the tears and lamentations of her household impressed even these officers of the Commune, inured as they were to the most tragic scenes.
