they opened them — and diminishing the quickness
of our step as we approached the halt;
and when we did arrive at the halt, woe to
the parched soldier who dared touch water
until he received orders to do so. "Eat
bread!" "Eat a few mouthfuls of bread before
you drink!" "Rince your mouth well out
before you swallow a mouthful of water!" "Sit
on your packs, and not on the ground!" "You,
sir! two days salle de police for lying down in
the shade. Do you think we can drag fever and
rheumatism about with us? Up with you!
And you, there, exposing your chest to the cold
air; you'll be writhing like a corkscrew presently!"

When we arrived at our destination, the
bustle and hurry-scurry was greater. First duties
over and the soup eaten, the officers seemed
possessed; they stormed and shouted at the
sight of a particle of dust or mud on a shoe;
they caused trousers to be turned up to see that
there were no damp feet; doctors flew about
inquiring after sore heels; captains grew red
in the face, and threatened prison, dungeons,
and even shooting and cutting into a million of
little pieces, in their anxiety to see everything
orderly and comfortable. Before sunset, whether
it was bivouac or village, the regiment was
as quiet as a church. Next morning everybody
awoke refreshed, and rather inclined for
another march than otherwise.

On a day in April, there was great ado
in the barracks of our Lancers at Abbeville,
in Normandy. An adjutant non-commissioned
officer had, in a street brawl, drawn his sabre,
and cleft a civilian's skull. The adjutant bore
a de before his name, had friends at the Tuileries,
and was Chevalier of the Legion of
Honour. Platoons and companies were divided
in opinion. Old soldiers accustomed to the
favouritism of the Bourbons, declared that the
adjutant would not be broke, while the volunteers
and young soldiers, firmly believing in the
new order of things, began to guess who would
take the adjutant's rank. Young aspirants to
promotion, including myself, were anxious observers.
Justice or no justice was not so much the question
with us, as promotion or no promotion.
The disgrace of the non-commissioned officer
would afford four steps; a sergeant-major would
be made adjutant; a sergeant, sergeant-major;
and so downward; I aspired to the corporalship
likely to become vacant, and my sincere hope
was that Adjutant de—— would be disgraced
and broken.

Aspirants to rank in the French army, even
where the spirit of comradeship is perfect, have
no pity. In no profession can there be found in
France, so many treacherous friendships as in the
military profession. My bosom friend in the regiment
was Hugo. When from his delicate constitution
he was unable to mount the twenty-four
hours' guard, I walked it for him. When I felt
lazy, he would pipeclay and burnish for me. A
man who spoke ill of me during my absence, was
called to account by Hugo, and my friend was
sharply cut the next morning on the field. Hugo
was, likewise, a candidate for the corporalship.
We talked our chances over at the canteen, and
came to the conclusion that either he or I must
get it: the other aspirants not being, we said,
fit to brush our boots.

For months we had been learning our theories,
and rehearsing the tone of command; nights
had we passed in the sergeant-major's office
reading over the details of the service; scores
of military papers and account-sheets had we
copied out, while the captain's clerk was amusing
himself at the café. We could reckon up
to a centime, an entire company's daily pay and
expenditure; take to pieces and put together
again every one of our weapons, and name each
separate piece; cook the soup theoretically,
practically, and economically; fight the fencingmasters,
either with small-sword or sabre; dress
a hurt, pack a horse, burnish a sword, and go
through drill better than any other candidate.
Hugo or I must be nominated; but the
adjutant was not yet broke; the colonel was
doing his utmost to hush up the affair for the
credit of his regiment. Two of our men who
went out the morning after the Abbevillian was
slain, were seized and beaten most unmercifully,
and when they came back to barracks
presented a most pitiable sight. The men
belonged to my company, and as they came into
our room we immediately guessed what had
happened. Saddles and bridles were thrown
down half-cleaned, schabracks and boots hurled
to the ground, sabres buckled on, and by
twos and threes, to the number of thirty, we
stealthily issued from the barracks: some through
the gates, others over the walls. Arriving in a
body on the market-place, we set to work
upsetting stalls and heaps, kicking here and kicking
there, swearing at everybody, and demanding
who were the cowards by whom our comrades
had been beaten? The peasants and
carters soon began to use the butt-end of their
whips, and pelted us with stones and vegetables.
Women shrieked, and appealed to the Madonna.
Two or three men drove their waggons against us,
and, throwing down one of us, rode over him.
Seeing this, we drew our sabres, and struck
with the flat of the sword only, but that was
enough to scare the peasants out of their wits.
"Tue! tue! tue!" was shouted by a few workmen.
This cry brought out all the artisans of
the neighbourhood. The peasants and artisans
surrounded us, and closed as near as the
points of our sabres would allow them. Firm,
hard-headed cabbages came thumping among
us; turnips, harder still, rapped against our
swords; small potatoes almost, blinded us; and
the position was becoming untenable, when an
old fellow of our body suggested, "What fine
soup the cabbages would make!"

As the crowd sent forth a shout of derision at
this remark, we suddenly extended our circle,
and I and another proceeded to string cabbages
on our comrades' swords. When each skewer
was well garnished, the command, "Point
forward front rank, and backward the rear," was
given, and at the double we cleared the crowd.