Will you believe that, young as I was, without any share in the interests of society, and nourishing my own wound in secret, the revolution brought some change in my ideas, created a glimmering ray of hope in them, and for a while, suspended their bitterness. It appeared to me that, in the general confusion, my situation might change; and that, when all ranks were levelled, fortunes upset, and prejudices done away with, I might find myself less isolated in this new order of things; and that, if I did possess any hidden qualities or superiority of mind, my colour would no longer single me out, and prevent their being appreciated: but it happened that these very qualities quickly opposed my illusion. I could not desire my own happiness at the expense of the misfortune of thousands; besides, I daily witnessed the folly of persons who were struggling against events that they could not control. I saw through the weakness of such characters, and guessed their secret views. Their false philanthropy did not long deceive me, and I quite gave up my hopes when I found that they would still feel contempt for me, even in the midst of the severest adversity. The days were gone when each sought to please, and remembered that the only means of doing so in society is the very unconsciousness of one's own success. No sooner did the revolution cease to be a grand theory,--no sooner did it menace the interests of every high individual, than conversation degenerated into dispute, and reasoning was exchanged for bitter personality. Sometimes, in spite of my dejection, I could not help being amused by the sudden violence of opinions which were excited by ambition, affectation, or fear; but gaiety that is occasioned by the observation of folly in others is too malignant to do good: the heart delights in innocent joys, and the mirth of ridicule, far from dispelling misfortune, is more likely to proceed from it, as it feeds upon the same bitterness of soul. * * * * * My hopes in the revolution having quickly vanished, I remained dissatisfied as before with my situation. Madame de B.'s friendship and confidence were my only solace. Often, in the midst of an acrimonious political discussion, after vainly trying to restore good humour, she would cast a sad look at me:--this look was a balm to my heart; it seemed to say, "Ourika, you alone can sympathise with me." * * * * * The negroes' right to liberty next began to be debated; and I, of course, felt deeply interested in the question. One of my remaining illusions was, that at least I had countrymen in another land, and knowing them to be unhappy, I believed them virtuous, and pitied their fate. Alas! here again I was undeceived. The massacre of St. Domingo added fresh grief to my soul; and to my despair at belonging to a proscribed race was added shame at their being likewise a race of barbarians. * * * * *