Constance had also risen.  “The carriage must be waiting,” said she; “will you take it?”

“No, no, we will go on foot.  A walk will clear our heads.”

The sky was overcast, and as it grew darker and darker Ambroise, going to the window, exclaimed:  “You will get wet.”

“Oh! the rain has been threatening ever since this morning, but we shall have time to get to the works.”

It was then understood that Constance should take Charlotte with her in the brougham and set her down at the door of the little pavilion adjoining the factory.  As for Valentine, she was in no hurry and could quietly return to the Avenue d’Antin, which was close by, as soon as the sky might clear.  And with regard to Marianne and Mathieu, they had just yielded to Andree’s affectionate entreaties, and had arranged to spend the whole day and dine there, returning to Chantebled by the last train.  Thus the fete would be complete, and the young couple were enraptured at the prospect.

The departure of the others was enlivened by a curious incident, a mistake which Constance made, and which seemed very comical amid all the mirth promoted by the copious lunch.  She had turned towards Denis, and, looking at him with her pale eyes, she quietly asked him “Blaise, my friend, will you give me my boa?  I must have left it in the ante-room.”

Everybody began to laugh, but she failed to understand the reason.  And it was in the same tranquil way as before that she thanked Denis when he brought her the boa:  “I am obliged to you, Blaise; you are very amiable.”

Thereupon came an explosion; the others almost choked with laughter, so droll did her quiet assurance seem to them.  What was the matter, then?  Why did they all laugh at her in that fashion?  She ended by suspecting that she had made a mistake, and looked more attentively at the twins.

“Ah, yes, it isn’t Blaise, but Denis!  But it can’t be helped.  I am always mistaking them since they have worn their beards trimmed in the same fashion.”

Thereupon Marianne, in her obliging way, in order to take any sting away from the laughter, repeated the well-known family story of how she herself, when the twins were children and slept together, had been wont to awake them in order to identify them by the different color of their eyes.  The others, Beauchene and Valentine, then intervened and recalled circumstances under which they also had mistaken the twins one for the other, so perfect was their resemblance on certain occasions, in certain lights.  And it was amid all this gay animation that the company separated after exchanging all sorts of embraces and handshakes.