MORNING COSTUMES. Dark-blue poplin, trimmed with plush of the same color, toque, muff to match. Black velvet, trimmed with braid, sable hat, sable tippet and muff. Brown cloth, trimmed with bands of sealskin, coat, hat, muff to match. Purple plush, trimmed with bands of pheasant feathers, coat, hat to match. Gray velvet, trimmed with chinchilla, chinchilla hat, muff and coat. Green cloth (hunting costume). Traveling suit, dark-blue cloth cloak. EVENING DRESSES. Light green tulle, embroidered in silver, and for my locks, what they call _une fantaisie_. White tulle, embroidered with gold wheat ears. Light-gray satin, quite plain, with only Brussels lace flounces. Deep pink tulle, with satin ruchings and a lovely sash of lilac ribbon. Black lace over white tulle, with green velvet twisted bows. Light-blue tulle with Valenciennes. AFTERNOON GOWNS. Lilac faille. Light café au lait with trimmings of the same. Green faille faced with blue and a red Charlotte Corday sash (Worth's last gasp). A red faille, quite plain. Gray faille with light-blue facings. Do you not think there is enough to last me as long as I live? SUNDAY, _November 28th._ The mass is at ten o'clock on Sunday, and one meets in the grand salon before going to the chapel. Madame de Gallifet and I, being Protestants, were not expected; but, as we wanted to go, we decided to don a black lace veil and follow the others. The chapel is not large, but it is very richly decorated. The Empress sat in a tribune facing the altar with a chosen few and her _dames d'honneur_. The Emperor was not present. It seemed to me that the mass was very hurried and curtailed. The chorus boys swung their censers nonchalantly, as though they were fanning themselves; probably they were impatient for their breakfast. The curé did not preach any sermon; he only made an exhortation against the pomps and vanities of this wicked world, and told us that we had better be prepared for death, as it might come at any moment. This was nothing new; any one could have said it. He advised us to have our lamps trimmed, for, when our time came we would be cut down like grass and gathered in the garners. Perhaps he meant we ought to make our hay while the sun was shining. I wondered to myself, if some of those old gentlemen sinners who had sown so liberally would not be gathered in as oats. The curé was going on to say that we should not indulge too freely in the good things of this world; but pulled himself up in time, remembering, no doubt, that he was going to breakfast, as he did every Sunday, at the Imperial board and partake of its luxuries. And before we knew it the mass was finished. When we returned to the salon it was eleven o'clock, and every one was assembled for _déjeuner_.