At this moment, the tramp of footsteps was heard in the corridor. A woman showed herself at the door of the dining-room, and, dimly, a man could be perceived behind her.
Despite the semi-darkness, I recognised the female, and could not resist crying out, “Madame Roland!”
Mademoiselle Robespierre repeated, in an accent of astonishment, “Madame Roland!”
“Yes, I, myself, mademoiselle, and my husband, who, hearing that Robespierre has been threatened by his enemies, are come to offer him a shelter in our little house at the corner of the Rue Guenegaud.”
“I thank you in my brother’s name, madame,” replied Mademoiselle Charlotte, with dignity. “He has already found the asylum which you so nobly offer him, and which I know not myself. Here is the gentleman who brought the news,” continued she, pointing me out to Madame Roland.
“That proves, mademoiselle,” said, in his turn, the Citizen Roland, “that other citizens are more favored than we;” and remarking that he was unwilling to intrude longer on her privacy, he bowed, and departed with his wife.
As my errand was fulfilled, I followed them, and returned in close conversation with them. Madame Roland was at the Jacobin Club when the paid guard made an irruption among them.
The terror was such among the few members of the society present, that one of them, anxious to escape, escaladed the gallery set aside for women. Madame Roland made him ashamed of himself, and compelled him to descend the way that he had come.
They asked me about Robespierre. I told them that I was not authorized to inform them of his place of shelter, but only could assure them that he was in a place of safety among people who would die for him.
Madame Roland asked me to tell Robespierre that they would bring him to trial—that is to say, accuse him that evening at the Feuillants. In that certainty, she and her husband were going to M. Buzal, to pray him to defend his colleague.