condoecet: a biography. 229 



let her pat herself in my place, then question her own heart, and she 

 will kuow them all." 



Thus Coudorcet wrote, on the morning of the nth of April, 1794. At 

 ten o'clock he left his room in his usual disguise, a vest and large cap, of 

 wool, aud descended to a small apartment on the ground floor, hoping to 

 elude the surveillance of which he was the object, and make his escape ; 

 but fiuding Madam Yeruet there, he entered into conversation with 

 another inmate of the house* who was present, interlarding his discourse 

 with Latin phrases and making it in every way as tedious and uninterest- 

 ing as possible, in order to drive her from the room, but in vain. The 

 prescript was in despair, when, by chance or by calculation, he manifested 

 annoyance at having forgotten his snuffbox. Madam Vernet, always 

 kind, hastened to mount the stairs in order to look for it. Condorcet 

 seized this moment to rush into the street. The distressed cries of the 

 portress immediately informed Madame Vernet what had happened, aud 

 that she had lost the fruit of nine months' unexampled devotion ; the 

 poor woman fell back fainting. To avoid a pursuit, which would have 

 ruined his benefactress, Condorcet passed rapidly through Servandoni 

 street. Stopping to take breath, as he turned into the street Vaugirard, 

 he saw at his side M. Sarret, the cousin of Madame Vernet. The pro- 

 script had hardly time to utter some words of farewell, in which admira- 

 tion was mingled with aflectionate gratitude, when M. Sarret said to 

 him, with a firmness that admitted of no resistance, " The costume you 

 wear does not disguise you sufficiently ; you do not know your road ; 

 alone you will never succeed in escaping the active surveillance of the 

 argus-eyed sentinels the commune has placed at all the gates of Paris. 

 I have therefore determined not to leave you." 



It was at ten o'clock in the morning, in broad sunlight, in a frequented 

 street, at the door even of the terrible prisons of Luxembourg aud of 

 Carmes, out of which none ever came, except to go to the scaffold ; it was 

 in full view of lugubrious notices, declaring in large characters that the 

 punishmeut of death would be inflicted upon any one who rendered assist- 

 ance to the prescripts that M. Sarret attached himself to our prescript. 

 Was not this intrepidity equal at least to that of a body of soldiers who 

 throw themselves upon the thundering artillery of a redoubt? The two 

 fugitives escaped by a sort of miracle the dangers which attended them at 

 the barrier of Maine, and then directed their steps to;,vard Fontenay-aux- 

 Roses. The journey was long, after nine months of absolute inactivity 

 had unfitted our confrere for walking. At last, about three o'clock iu 

 the afternoon, Condorcet and his companion arrived without mishap, 

 but extremely fatigued, at the door of a country house, occupied by a 

 happy family, who for nearly twenty years had received from Coudorcet 

 distinguished services and marks of favor without number. There ended 



"This man was named Sarret; was an author of several works. He had married 

 Madame Vernet, but the marriage was kept secret, as the lady did not wish to give 

 up her maiden name. 



