One of these days I must make up my mind to marry.

I think he loves me.

Yes, but the question is, do I love him?
No, I don't think I do, and I should so much like to love--so much, so much!" At the precise moment when these reflections were passing through Bettina's pretty head, Jean, alone in his study, seated before his desk with a great book under the shade of his lamp, looked through, and took notes of, the campaigns of Turenne.

He had been directed to give a course of instruction to the non-commissioned officers of the regiment, and was prudently preparing his lesson for the next day.
But in the midst of his notes--Nordlingen, 1645; les Dunes, 1658; Mulhausen and Turckheim, 1674-1675--he suddenly perceived (Jean did not draw very badly) a sketch, a woman's portrait, which all at once appeared under his pen.

What was she doing there, in the middle of Turenne's victories, this pretty little woman?
And then who was she--Mrs.Scott or Miss Percival?
How could he tell?
They resembled each other so much; and, laboriously, Jean returned to the history of the campaigns of Turenne.
And at the same moment, the Abbe Constantin, on his knees before his little wooden bedstead, called down, with all the strength of his soul, the blessings of Heaven on the two women through whose bounty he had passed such a sweet and happy day.