 It is the moment when he was hunted and obliged to hide himself that Condorcet wrote his hymn to progress, which is his Esquisse. It is the moment when she lived with anxiety about her husband, her daughter and herself, and when she was surrounded by the hate of the Jacobin revolutionaries and the members of her class who reproached her for her treason, that Sophie vaunted the sweet effects of sympathy! [my translation])