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Upon those, had followed Gabelle's letter: the appeal of an

innocent prisoner, in danger of death, to his justice, honour,

and good name.

His resolution was made. He must go to Paris.

Yes. The Loadstone Rock was drawing him, and he must sail on,

until he struck. He knew of no rock; he saw hardly any danger.

The intention with which he had done what he had done, even

although he had left it incomplete, presented it before him in an

aspect that would be gratefully acknowledged in France on his

presenting himself to assert it. Then, that glorious vision of

doing good, which is so often the sanguine mirage of so many good

minds, arose before him, and he even saw himself in the illusion

with some influence to guide this raging Revolution that was

running so fearfully wild.