the guard, request Madame Barnave to withdraw.  She refuses, whereupon the governor orders four fusiliers to force her out.  The audience in the stalls had already taken the matter up, and violence was feared, when M. Barnave, advised of the affront, entered and led his wife away, exclaiming aloud, “I leave by order of the governor.”  The indignant public, all the bourgeoisie, agreed among themselves not to enter the theater again without an apology being made; the theater, in fact, remaining empty several months, until Madame Barnave consented to reappear there.  This outrage afterwards recurred to the future deputy, and he then swore “to elevate the caste to which he belonged out of the humiliation to which it seemed condemned.”  In like manner Lacroix, the future member of the Convention,[37] on leaving a theater, and jostled by a gentleman who was giving his arm to a lady, utters a loud complaint.  “Who are you? " says the person.  Still the provincial, he is simple enough to give his name, surname, and qualifications in full.  “Very well,” says the other man, “good for you —­ I am the Comte de Chabannes, and I am in a hurry,” saying which, “laughing heartily,” he jumps into his vehicle.  “Ah, sir, exclaimed Lacroix, still much excited by his misadventure, “pride and prejudice establish an awful gulf between man and man !” We may rest assured that, with Marat, a veterinary surgeon in the Comte d’Artois’s stables, with Robespierre, a protégé of the bishop of Arras, with Danton, an insignificant lawyer in Mery-sur-Seine, and with many others beside, self-esteem, in frequent encounters, bled in the same fashion.  The concentrated bitterness with which Madame Roland’s memoirs are imbued has no other cause.  “She could not forgive society[38] for the inferior position she had so long occupied in it."[39] Thanks to Rousseau, vanity, so natural to man, and especially sensitive with a Frenchman, becomes still more sensitive.  The slightest discrimination, a tone of the voice, seems a mark of disdain.  “One day,[40] on alluding, before the minister of war, to a general officer who had obtained his rank through his merit, he exclaimed, ‘Oh, yes, an officer of luck.’  This expression, being repeated and commented on, does much mischief.”  In vain do the grandees show their condescending spirit, “welcoming with equal kindness and gentleness all who are presented to them.”  In the mansion of the Due de Penthièvre the nobles eat at the table of the master of the house, the commoners dine with his first gentleman and only enter the drawing room when coffee is served.  There they find “in full force and with a superior tone” the others who had the honor of dining with His Highness, and “who do not fail to salute the new arrivals with an obliging civility indicating patronage."[41] No more is required; in vain does the Duke “carry his attentions to an extreme,” Beugnot, so pliable, has no desire to return.  They bear them ill-will, not only on account of