“I will take the duchess with me, if she will go.  If not, I will leave here under your charge, Doctor,” said the duke.

“Much honored, I am sure, in attending her grace,” replied the French physician, with the extravagant politeness of his countrymen.

As soon as Doctor Velpeau had gone, the Duke of Hereward went up stairs to see his wife, and, sitting by the lounge on which she still reclined, he told her of the urgent business that required his immediate departure for Algiers.

“Algiers!  Why, that is in Africa! another quarter of the globe! a long, long way off!” she exclaimed, starting up with an eagerness that the duke mistook for alarm and distress.

“Oh, no, dear, it is not.  It only sounds so.  It is about eight hundred miles nearly due south of Paris.  We go by train to Marseilles in a few hours, and by steamer to Algiers in a couple of days.  You will go with me, dear.  The change will do you good,” said the duke, gayly.

“I!  Oh, no, I could not think of such a thing!  Pray, pray, do not ask me to do so!” exclaimed Valerie, in a tone of such genuine terror that the duke hastened to say: 

“Certainly not, if you do not wish it, my love.  I should be happier to have you with me, and I think the trip would benefit your health, but—­”

“Did that horrid doctor advise you to take me to Algiers?” testily interrupted the young duchess.

“He said the change would do you good if you should like to go; but not otherwise.  He said that you should be left to decide for yourself.”

“Then he has quite as much judgment as the world gives him credit for, and that is not the case with every one.”

“Now you are left to your own choice, to go or not to go.”

“Then I choose not to go, most decidedly.”

“Very well,” said the duke, with a disappointed air; “then there is no need that I should delay my departure for another day.  I shall leave for Marseilles by the night’s express, Valerie.”

“As you please,” she wearily replied.

“I may be gone a fortnight, Valerie, and I may not be gone more than ten days; the length of my absence will depend upon contingencies; but I shall hurry back with all possible dispatch.”

“Yes, I am sure you will,” she answered, because she did not know what else to say.

“And I will write to you every day.”

“Thank you.”

“Will you write to me every day?”

“Certainly, if you wish me to do so.”

“Of course I wish you to do so, my love,” said the duke, as he stooped and pressed his lips on the pale cheek of his “wayward child,” as he sometimes called her.

He then left the room to give orders to his valet and groom to pack up and be ready to attend him on his journey.

As soon as she found herself alone, Valerie arose, slipped on a dressing-gown, sat down to her writing-desk, and wrote the following note, as usual, without name, date, or signature: