230 CONDOECET : A BIOGRAPHY. 



the dangerons mission Sarret had undertaken j he left Condorcet and 

 returned to Paris. 



What hajjpened then, accounts do not agree. As far as I can learn, 

 Condorcet solicited hospitality only for a single night. Certain diflicul- 

 ties, of which I will uotmakemyself the judge, prevented his friends from 

 granting his request; nevertheless they arranged that a small garden 

 door opening outward toward the country should not be closed at night, 

 and that Condorcet might present himself there at ten o'clock. When 

 taking leave of the unfortunate prescript, they presented him with the 

 Epistles of Horace, a poor resource in truth for one obliged to seek a 

 refuge in the dreary darkness of the quarries of Clamast. These old 

 friends of Condorcet undoubtedly committed the irreparable fault of 

 delegating to others, and not seeing themselves that the arrangement 

 made was carried out. For one or two days afterward Madam Vernet 

 who passed over the country of Fontenay-aux-Eoses in every direction, 

 in the hope that her presence there might be useful to the fugitive, 

 remarked a mound of earth and tuft of grass in front of the little gate, 

 proving, alas, only too well, that for a long time it had not turned on 

 its hinges; during two dreary nights no door had been. open for him, 

 except in Servandoni street. There at No. 21 during a whole week front 

 door, shop door, or alley-door would have yielded to the slightest pres- 

 sure of the fugitive's finger. In the possibility, 1 can hardly say the 

 hope of a nocturnal return, Madam Yernet did not think of the thieves 

 and assassins w^ho at that time especially haunted Paris. Great, alas, 

 was the difference in conduct of the tw^o families, with whom ties 

 formed in prosperity by favors conferred and ties of misfortune had 

 connected Condorcet. 



On the 5th of April, at two o'clock, we see Condorcet leaving with 

 resignation, but not without sadness, the country house where he had 

 hoped to pass twenty-four hours in security. No one will ever know the 

 anguish, the sufferings he endured throughout the 6th. On the 7th 

 we see him, wounded in limb and impelled by hunger, enter an eating- 

 house of Clamart, and ask for an omelette. Unfortunately this man, 

 of almost universal information, did not know even approximately how 

 many eggs a workman eats at a repast. When asked by the shopman 

 how many he desired, he answered a dozen. This unusual number excited 

 surprise, soon suspicion, which spread quickly. The stranger was re- 

 quested to exhibit his passport ; he had none. Pressed by questions, he 

 called himself a carpenter, but the state of his hands contradicted the 

 assertion. The municipal authorities were informed, had him arrested, 

 and sent him to Bourg-la-Reiue. On the routea kind vine-dresser mett- 

 ing the prisoner, seeing his wounded limb and his limping walk, gen- 

 erously lent him his horse. I ought not to pass over this last mark of 

 sympathy received by our unfortunate confrere. 



On the 8th of April (1794), in the morning, when the jailer of Bourg la 

 Eeine opened the door of the dungeon in which the unknown prisoner 



