She had but little real sympathy
with those haughty French aristocrats, insolent in their pride of
caste, of whom the Comtesse de Tournay de Basserive was so typical an
example; but republican and liberal-minded though she was from
principle, she hated and loathed the methods which the young Republic
had chosen for establishing itself. She had not been in Paris for
some months; the horrors and bloodshed of the Reign of Terror,
culminating in the September massacres, had only come across the
Channel to her as a faint echo. Robespierre, Danton, Marat, she had
not known in their new guise of bloody judiciaries, merciless wielders
of the guillotine. Her very soul recoiled in horror from these
excesses, to which she feared her brother Armand--moderate republican
as he was--might become one day the holocaust.
Then, when first she heard of this band of young English
enthusiasts, who, for sheer love of their fellowmen, dragged women and
children, old and young men, from a horrible death, her heart had
glowed with pride for them, and now, as Chauvelin spoke, her very soul
went out to the gallant and mysterious leader of the reckless little
band, who risked his life daily, who gave it freely and without
ostentation, for the sake of humanity.
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