The Second Funeral of Napoleon
Page: 43

crowd without one. A poor unhappy woman in a greasy plaid cloak,
with a battered rose-colored plush bonnet, was seen taking her place
among the stalls allotted to the grandees. "Voyez donc l'Anglaise,"
said everybody, and it was too true. You could swear that the
wretch was an Englishwoman: a bonnet was never made or worn so in
any other country. Half an hour's delightful amusement did this
lady give us all. She was whisked from seat to seat by the
huissiers, and at every change of place woke a peal of laughter. I
was glad, however, at the end of the day to see the old pink bonnet
over a very comfortable seat, which somebody had not claimed and she
had kept.

Are not these remarkable incidents? The next wonder we saw was the
arrival of a set of tottering old Invalids, who took their places
under us with drawn sabres. Then came a superb drum-major, a
handsome smiling good-humored giant of a man, his breeches
astonishingly embroidered with silver lace. Him a dozen little
drummer-boys followed--"the little darlings!" all the ladies cried
out in a breath: they were indeed pretty little fellows, and came
and stood close under us: the huge drum-major smiled over his little
red-capped flock, and for many hours in the most perfect contentment
twiddled his moustaches and played with the tassels of his cane.

Now the company began to arrive thicker and thicker. A whole covey
of Conseillers-d'Etat came in, in blue coats, embroidered with blue
silk, then came a crowd of lawyers in toques and caps, among whom
were sundry venerable Judges in scarlet, purple velvet, and ermine--
a kind of Bajazet costume. Look there! there is the Turkish
Ambassador in his red cap, turning his solemn brown face about and
looking preternaturally wise. The Deputies walk in in a body.
Guizot is not there: he passed by just now in full ministerial
costume. Presently little Thiers saunters back: what a clear, broad
sharp-eyed face the fellow has, with his gray hair cut down so
demure! A servant passes, pushing through the crowd a shabby wheel-
chair. It has just brought old Moncey the Governor of the Invalids,
the honest old man who defended Paris so stoutly in 1814. He has