He thinks too much of himself to love liberty; but he serves it, and that is enough for me.

I shall be there to defend him." Thus, three of Robespierre's subsequent victims combined that night, and unknown to him, for the safety of the man by whom they were eventually to die.

Destiny is a mystery whence spring the most remarkable coincidences, and which tend no less to offer snares to men through their virtues than their crimes.

Death is everywhere: but, whatever the fate may be, virtue alone never repents.

Beneath the dungeons of the Conciergerie Madame Roland remembered that night with satisfaction.