Zamara smiled, his craft was equal to everything; and he had only waited for Louison to discover this difficulty that he might be prompt to meet it. “Wait a moment,” he said; “it is easily done.” The dwarf seized his hat and disappeared. Directly he came back with a roll of wax and some white plaster of Paris in a paper, out of which he mixed a paste, and impressed the seal upon it, thus forming a mould from which duplicates might be taken. No artist ever handled his clay with more dexterity than this little traitor accomplished his work. In half an hour two missives bearing Mirabeau’s writing and seal, so nearly alike that nothing but an expert could have distinguished them, lay side by side on Louison Brisot’s table. True, the seal which Zamara had duplicated was somewhat blurred, while the other had a clear impression; but no one acquainted with Mirabeau’s habits would have wondered at this; in fact, a neatly arranged letter was scarcely to be expected of him. He had been especially dainty about this as Marie Antoinette was the only woman in France whom he was doubtful of pleasing. “Now,” said Louison, delighted by all her fellow conspirator had done, “we keep back this letter, written by Mirabeau’s own hand, while the other goes to the queen by his agent. The Austrian will suspect nothing—who could? She will answer him. That answer once in my hands, and I hold that audacious traitor, and all his party, in my power. This service you have rendered me: I shall not forget it.” “Madame may be sure of Zamara’s good faith.” “I _am_ sure,” answered the woman, with haughty self-reliance; “but our first object is this letter. How are we to make it certain that the queen’s answer will reach us first?” “Trust me; this girl is told that I am faithful and true to the queen. She will go first to the stout landlady at Versailles, who has charge of her majesty’s dairy at _la petite Trianon_. I learned this much about her movements, and know that the woman can at any time gain access to the lady in waiting, and through her to the queen. Thus Mirabeau’s messenger will penetrate to her majesty unsuspected; and is deemed the safest bearer of a correspondence, fearfully dangerous both to Mirabeau and the queen.” “This will ensure the delivery of his letter to the queen; but how will the answer reach me?” “Zamara will bring it to you if he lives.” “I think you will,” Louison said. “At any rate, I have no better means of securing it. Now go at once, and good speed.” Zamara left the house carrying the forged letter in his bosom. He went directly to the domicil of Dame Doudel, and found Marguerite keeping house, busy among her flowers. Without a word he gave her the package. She turned very white at the first glance, and cast a frightened look at Zamara, astonished and repulsed by his strange appearance. “Who are you?” she asked, holding the package in her hand. “Who are you, and what is this?”