!
Princess Romanelli! Princess Bettina! Bettina Romanelli! The names
go well together; they sound very pretty. Would it amuse me to be a
princess? Yes--and no! Among all the young men in Paris, who, during the
last year, have run after my money, this Prince Romanelli is the one who
pleases me best. 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. He prayed God to bless Mrs. Scott
in her children, and to give to Miss Percival a husband after her own
heart.

CHAPTER V. THE FAIR AMERICANS

Formerly Paris belonged to the Parisians, and that at no very remote
period-thirty or forty years ago. At that epoch the French were
the masters of Paris, as the English are the masters of London, the
Spaniards of Madrid, and the Russians of St. Petersburg. Those times are
no more. Other countries still have their frontiers; there are now
none to France. Paris has become an immense Babel, a universal and
international city. Foreigners do not only come to visit Paris; they
come there to live. At the present day we have in Paris a Russian
colony, a Spanish colony, a Levantine colony, an American colony.
The foreigners have already conquered from us the greate