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 been very ill, and is worn down almost by infirmities: but in his
illness he was perpetually asking, "Doctor, shall I live till the 15th?
Give me till then, and I die contented." One can't help believing that
the old man's wish is honest, however one may doubt the piety of another
illustrious Marshal, who once carried a candle before Charles X. in a
processi