"Go on," said La Mole.
Réné wrote on a small strip of red paper some cabalistic characters, put it into the eye of a steel needle, and with the needle pierced the small wax model in the heart.
Strange to say, at the orifice of the wound appeared a small drop of blood; then he set fire to the paper.
The heat of the needle melted the wax around it and dried up the spot of blood.
"Thus," said Réné, "by the power of sympathy, your love shall pierce and burn the heart of the woman whom you love."
Coconnas, true to his repute as a bold thinker, laughed in his mustache, and in a low tone jested; but La Mole, desperately in love and full of superstition, felt a cold perspiration start from the roots of his hair.
"And now," continued Réné, "press your lips to the lips of the figure, and say: 'Marguerite, I love thee! Come, Marguerite!'"
La Mole obeyed.
At this moment the door of the second chamber was heard to open, and light steps approached. Coconnas, curious and incredulous, drew his poniard, and fearing that if he raised the tapestry Réné would repeat what he said about the door, he cut a hole in the thick curtain, and applying his eye to the hole, uttered a cry of astonishment, to which two women's voices responded.
"What is it?" exclaimed La Mole, nearly dropping the waxen figure, which Réné caught from his hands.