The Adventures of a Modest Man

"Fudge!" he muttered, following me out to the cab.

"We will drive by the Pont Neuf," he suggested. "You know the proverb?"

"No," said I; "what proverb?"

"The bridegroom who passes by the Pont Neuf will always meet a priest, a soldier, and a white horse. The priest will bless his marriage, the soldier will defend it, the white horse will bear his burdens through life."

As a matter of fact, passing the Pont Neuf, we did see a priest, a soldier, and a white horse. But it is a rare thing not to meet this combination on the largest, longest, oldest, and busiest bridge in Paris. All three mascots are as common in Paris as are English sparrows in the Bois de Boulogne.

I bought a book on the quay, then re-entered the taxi and directed the driver to take us to the race-course at Longchamps.

Our way led up the Champs Elysées, and, while we whirled along, Van Dieman very kindly told me as much about the French army as I now write, and for the accuracy of which I refer to my future son-in-law.

There are, in permanent garrison in Paris, about thirty thousand troops stationed. This does not include the famous Republican Guard corps, which is in reality a sort of municipal gendarmerie, composed of several battalions of infantry, several squadrons of gorgeous cavalry, and a world-famous band, which corresponds in functions to our own Marine Band at Washington.

The barracks of the regular troops are scattered about the city, and occupy strategic positions as the armouries of our National Guard are supposed to do. All palaces, museums of importance, and government buildings are guarded day and night by infantry. The cavalry guard only their own barracks; the marines, engineers, and artillery the same.

At night the infantry and cavalry of the Republican Guard post sentinels at all theatres, balls, and public functions. In front of the Opera only are the cavalry mounted on their horses, except when public functions occur at the Elysées or the Hôtel de Ville.

In the dozen great fortresses that surround the walls of Paris, thousands of fortress artillery are stationed. In the suburbs and outlying villages artillery and regiments of heavy and light cavalry have their permanent barracks – dragoons, cuirassiers, chasseurs-à-cheval, field batteries, and mounted batteries. At Saint Cloud are dragoons and remount troopers; at Versailles the engineers and cuirassiers rule the region; and the entire Department of the Seine is patrolled by gendarmes, mounted and on foot.

When we reached the beautiful meadow of Longchamps, with its grand-stand covered with waving flags and the sunshine glowing on thousands of brilliant parasols, we left the taxi, and found a place on what a New Yorker would call "the bleachers." The bleachers were covered with pretty women, so we were not in bad company. As for the great central stand, where the President of the Republic sat surrounded by shoals of brilliant officers, it was a mass of colour from flagstaff to pelouse.

The band of the Republican Guards was thundering out one of Sousa's marches; the vast green plain glittered with masses of troops. Suddenly three cannon-shots followed one another in quick order; the band ended its march with a long double roll of drums; the Minister of War had arrived.

"They're coming," said Van Dieman. "Look! Here come the Saint-Cyrians. They lead the march one year, and the Polytechnic leads it the next. But I wish they could see West Point – just once."

The cadets from Saint-Cyr came marching past, solid ranks of scarlet, blue, and silver. They marched pretty well; they ride better, I am told. After them came the Polytechnic, in black and red and gold, the queer cocked hats of the cadets forming a quaint contrast to the toy soldier headgear of the Saint-Cyr soldiers. Following came battalion after battalion of engineers in sombre uniforms of red and dark blue, then a bizarre battalion of Turcos or Algerian Riflemen in turbans and pale blue Turkish uniforms, then a company of Zouaves in scarlet and white and blue, then some special corps which was not very remarkable for anything except the bad fit of its clothing.

After them marched solid columns of line infantry, great endless masses of dull red and blue, passing steadily until the eye wearied of the monotony.

Trumpets were sounding now; and suddenly, the superb French artillery passed at a trot, battery after battery, the six guns and six caissons of each in mathematically perfect alignment, all the gunners mounted, and not a man sitting on limber or caisson.

In my excitement I rose and joined the roar of cheers which greeted the artillerymen as battery after battery passed, six guns abreast.

"Sit down," said Van Dieman, laughing. "Look! Here come the cavalry!"

In two long double ranks, ten thousand horsemen were galloping diagonally across the plain – Hussars in pale robin's-egg blue and black and scarlet, Chasseurs-à-cheval in light blue and silver tunics, Dragoons armed with long lances from which fluttered a forest of red-and-white pennons, Cuirassiers cased in steel helmets and corselets – all coming at a gallop, sweeping on with the earth shaking under the thunder of forty thousand horses' hoofs, faster, faster, while in the excitement the vast throng of spectators leaped up on the benches to see.

There was a rumble, a rolling shock, a blast from a hundred trumpets. "Halt!"

Then, with the sound of the rushing of an ocean, ten thousand swords swept from their steel scabbards, and a thundering cheer shook the very sky: "Vive la Républic!"

That evening we dined together at the Hôtel – Alida, Dulcima, Van Dieman, and I.

Alida wore a new ring set with a brilliant that matched her shining, happy eyes. I hoped Van Dieman might appear foolish and ill at ease, but he did not.

"There is," said he, "a certain rare brand of champagne in the secret cellars of this famous café. It is pink as a rose in colour, and drier than a British cigar. It is the only wine, except the Czar's Tokay, fit to drink to the happiness of the only perfect woman in the world."

"And her equally perfect sister, father and fiancé," said I. "So pray order this wonderful wine, Van, and let me note the brand; for I very much fear that we shall need another bottle at no distant date."

"Why?" asked Dulcima, colouring to her hair.

"Because," said I, "the French army is expected to encamp to-morrow before this hotel."

"Cavalry or artillery?" she asked faintly.

"Both," said I; "so let us thank Heaven that we escape the infantry, at least. Alida, my dear, your health, happiness, and long, long life!"

We drank the toast standing.