"What costume will madame wear?"
"Any. It does not signify."
The maid indulged in an imperceptible shrug of her shoulders, and laid out an elegant black rep silk, heavily trimmed with black crape and jet, with mantle, bonnet and vail to match.
"White or black gloves, madame?"
"Black, of course. It is not a wedding reception."
"Pardon, madame," said the girl; and she added the black gloves to the costume.
Valerie was soon dressed, and then the maid said:
"The carriage waits, madame."
Valerie took the note she had prepared and went down stairs, entered her barouche, and ordered the coachman to drive to the British Legation, Hotel Borghese, Rue Faubourg St. Honore.
When the carriage rolled through the archway into the courtyard, and drew up before the magnificent palace, interesting from having been built for and occupied by the beautiful Princess Pauline Bonaparte, Valerie alighted and handed her letter to the footman, with directions to go and post it while she was making her call.