And that last pressure of the hand on taking leave, before entering the carriage.

Had not Miss Percival given him a more cordial clasp than Mrs.Scott had done?
Yes, positively a little more.
"I was mistaken," thought Jean; "the prettier is Miss Percival." The day's work was finished; the pieces were ranged regularly in line one behind the other; they defiled rapidly, with a horrible clatter, and in a cloud of dust.

When Jean, sword in hand, passed before his Colonel, the images of the two sisters were so confused and intermingled in his recollection that they melted the one in the other, and became in some measure the image of one and the same person.

Any parallel became impossible between them, thanks to this singular confusion of the two points of comparison.

Mrs.Scott and Miss Percival remained thus inseparable in the thoughts of Jean until the day when it was granted to him to see them again.