Lucile was left alone, not for the first time when she had wanted companionship and sympathy. She was conscious of an unsatisfactory sensation with regard to existence generally. It was one of those moments when the prizes and penalties of life seem equally stale and futile. She sought refuge in excitement. The project she had conceived the night before began to take actual shape in her mind; yes, she would hear him speak. Going to her room she rang the bell. The maid came quickly. "What time is the meeting to-night?"
"At eight, Your Excellency," said the girl.
"You have a ticket for it?"
"Yes, my brother——"
"Well, give it to me; I want to hear this man speak. He will attack the Government; I must be there to report to the President."
The maid looked astonished, but gave up the ticket meekly. For six years she had been Lucile's maid, and was devoted to her young and beautiful mistress. "What will Your Excellency wear?" was her only remark.
"Something dark, with a thick veil," said Lucile. "Don't speak of this to anyone."
"Oh no, Your Ex——"
"Not even to your brother."
"Oh, no, Your Excellency."