returning to Caen,
Charlotte told the same tale to Madame de Bretteville, left a secret
provision for an old nurse, and distributed the little property she
possessed among her friends.

It was on the morning of the 9th of July, 1793, that she left the house
of her aunt, without trusting herself with a last farewell. Her most
earnest wish was, when her deed should have been accomplished, to
perish, wholly unknown, by the hands of an infuriated multitude. The
woman who could contemplate such a fate, and calmly devote herself to
it, without one selfish thought of future renown, had indeed the heroic
soul of a martyr.

Her journey to Paris was marked by no other event than the unwelcome
attentions of some Jacobins with whom she traveled. One of them, struck
by her modest and gentle beauty, made her a very serious proposal of
marriage: she playfully evaded his request, but promised that he should
learn who and what she was at some future period. On entering Paris, she
proceeded immediately to the Hotel de la Providence, Rue ties Vieux
Augustins, not far from Marat's dwelling. Here she rested for two days
before calling on her intended victim. Nothing can mark more forcibly
the singular calmness of her mind: she felt no hurry to accomplish the
deed for which she had journeyed so far, and over which she had
meditated so deeply: her soul remained serene and undaunted to the last.
The room which she occupied, and which has often been pointed out to
inquiring strangers, was a dark and wretched attic, into which light
scarcely ever penetrated. There she read again the volume of Plutarch
she had brought with her--unwilling to part from her favorite author,
even in her last hours--and probably composed that energetic address to
the people which was found upon her after her apprehension.

Charlotte perceived that to call on Marat was the only means by which
she might accomplish her purpose. She did so on the morning of the 13th
of July, having first purchased a knife in the Palais Royal, and written
him a note, in which she requested an interview. She was refused
admittance. She then wrote him a second note, more pressing than the
first, and in which she represented herself as persecuted for the cause
of freedom. Without waiting to see what effect this note might produce,
she called again at half-past seven the same evening.

Marat then resided in the Rue des Cordeliers, in a gloomy-looking house,
which has since been demolished