Its contents were sufficiently startling.  They were as follows: 

“RUSSIAN LEGATION, RUE ST. HONORE.

“VALERIE:  You avoid me in vain!  You cannot shake me off.  I accepted the duke’s invitation to dinner last evening for the sake of seeing you again, and for the chance of having a final explanation with you; but you kept away from the dinner.  Such expedients will not avail you.

“I write now to assure you that I must and will see you, to make an arrangement with you.  I write openly, at the risk of having this letter fall into the hands of the duke; for I do not care if it does so fall.  I would just as willingly say to him what I now say to you.  I am quite willing to provoke a crisis.  The present state of things maddens me.  I wonder it does not kill you!  When you married the Duke of Hereward within six months after my supposed death by the hands of your father, you acted cruelly, but not criminally; now that you know I am living, you must also know that every hour you continue to live under the roof of the Duke of Hereward you are a criminal.  I do not require you to come to me.  I do not wish to live with you again, although I love you; but I do require you to leave the Duke of Hereward and go away by yourself.  I know you now, Valerie.  You are as weak as water.  You cannot go to the noble gentleman who has been so deeply deceived by you and your parents and tell him the secret that you have kept from him so long.  You have not the moral courage to do so.  But you can leave him.  It is to arrange for your flight and for your future safety that I now demand and insist upon a private interview with you.

“Write to me at the poste-restante, and tell me when and where I can see you alone.  Should you refuse to grant me this interview, I will myself go to the Duke of Hereward and tell him the whole story.  He may not resent your former marriage; but he will never forgive you, living, or your parents in their graves, for the deception that has been practiced upon him.  I will wait twenty-four hours for your answer, and then if I fail to receive it, or fail to get a favorable one, I shall come immediately to the Hotel de la Motte and seek an explanation with the duke.  I shall direct this letter by the name and title you now bear, so as to prevent mistakes; but it is the last time I shall so address you.  And I sign myself, for all eternity,

“Your true husband, WALDEMAR DE VOLASKI.”

Valerie read the cruel letter to its close, then dropped it on her lap, and sank back in her chair, helpless, breathless, almost lifeless.  Minutes crept into hours, and still she sat there in the same position, without motion, thought, or feeling—­stricken, spell-bound, entranced.

She was aroused at length by a rap at her chamber-door.

She started, shuddering, to her feet, and spasm after spasm shook her galvanized frame, as she picked up her letter, found a match, drew it, set fire to the paper, threw it, blazing, down upon the marble hearth, and watched it until it was consumed to a little heap of light ashes.