message.

Checked, she drove back to the Providence Inn and wrote a letter
to the triumvir:

"Paris, 13th July, Year 2 of the Republic.
"Citizen,--I have arrived from Caen. Your love for your country
leads me to assume that you will be anxious to hear of the
unfortunate events which are taking place in that part of the
Republic. I shall therefore call upon you towards one o'clock.
Have the kindness to receive me, and accord me a moment's
audience. I shall put you in the way of rendering a great service
to France.
"Marie Corday."

Having dispatched that letter to Marat, she sat until late
afternoon waiting vainly for an answer. Despairing at last of
receiving any, she wrote a second note, more peremptory in tone:

"I wrote to you this morning, Marat. Have you received my letter?
May I hope for a moment's audience? If you have received my
letter, I hope you will not refuse me, considering the importance
of the matter. It should suffice for you that I am very
unfortunate to give me the right to your protection."

Having changed into a gray-striped dimity gown--you observe this
further manifestation of a calm so complete that it admits of no
departure from the ordinary habits of life--she goes forth to
deliver in person this second letter, the knife concealed in the
folds of the muslin fichu crossed high upon her breast.