She languidly drew up to the table, and touched the bell that summoned the footman with the breakfast-tray.

When it was placed upon the table, she poured out two cups of coffee, handed one to the duke, and took the other herself.

When she had drained it, she arose, excused herself, and went back to her own room.

She closed and locked the door, and threw herself upon the bed, groaning: 

“Oh! how could Waldemar accept that invitation?  How can he bear to sit down with me at the Duke of Hereward’s table?  Has he no delicacy?  No pity?  Ah, mercy, what a state is mine!  And yet I was not to blame for this!  I have not deserved it!  I have not deserved it!  One of us three must die; I, or Waldemar, or the Duke of Hereward; and I am the one; for, I hate myself for the position I am in!  I hate, LOATHE and utterly ABHOR myself!  I do.  I do.  I wish the lightning would strike me dead! dead, before I have to meet one of them again!” she moaned, rolling and grovelling on the bed.

There came a soft rap at the door, followed by the kind voice of the duke, saying: 

“Valerie, Valerie, my love!  How are you?  Do you want anything?  May I come in?”

“No!  I want rest!  I do not want you!” she answered, so sharply as to astonish the duke, who spoke again however, deprecatingly and soothingly.

“Is there anything that I can do for you outside, then, my dear?”

“You can go away and let me alone, or you can stand there chattering until you drive me crazy!” she answered, ungratefully.

“Good morning, my love; I will not trouble you again soon,” muttered the duke, as he walked away from the duchess’ door.

“I never knew such a change as this that has come over her.  She is as cross as a catamount!  There may be a cause for it.  There may—­I will send for a physician,” he added, as he went down stairs.

Valerie kept her room all day.

Count de Volaski came to dinner at eight o’clock and was received by the duke alone.

He smiled grimly when his host apologized for the absence of the duchess, by explaining the delicate condition of her health since the death of her parents, and the injury she had received from the fatigue and excitement of the dinner-party on the preceding evening.

The duke and the count dined tete-a-tete, and sat long over their wine, although they drank but little.  After dinner they played chess together all the evening, and then parted, apparently the best of friends on both sides, really good friends on the duke’s.

The next morning a letter was handed Valerie, while she sat at breakfast with the duke.

She recognized the handwriting of Count de Volaski, and put it in her pocket to read when she was alone.

The duke was not suspicious or inquisitive.  He asked no questions.

As soon as the duchess found herself alone in her chamber, she locked the door to keep out intruders, and sat down and opened the letter.