roceeded far, when the noise of voices speaking
and singing in a loud tone announced that we were approaching the
canteen.

"You hear them, mon lieutenant!" said Pioche, with a look of delight;
"you hear the rogues. _Par Saint Jaaques_, they know where to make
themselves merry. Good wine for drinking, lodging for nothing, fire for
the trouble of lighting it, are brave inducements to enjoy life."

"But it 's a canteen; surely mademoiselle is paid?"

"Not the first night of a campaign, I suppose," said he, with a voice
of rebuke. "_Parbleu_! that would be a pretty affair! No, no; each man
brings what he can find, drinks what he is able, and leaves the rest;
which, after all, is a very fair stock-in-trade to begin with. And so
now, mon lieutenant, to commence operations regularly, just sling this
ham on your sabre over your shoulder, and take this turkey carelessly in
your hand,--that 's it. Here we are; follow me."

Passing through an arched gateway, we entered a little courtyard where
several horses were picketed, the ground about them being strewn
with straw knee-deep; cavalry saddles, holsters, and sheepskins lay
confusedly on every side, along with sabres and carbines; a great lamp,
detached from its position over the street entrance, was suspended from
a lance out of a window, and threw its light over the scene. Stepping
cautiously through this chaotic heap, we reached a glass door, from
within which the riotous sounds were most audibly issuing. Pioche pushed
it open, and we entered a large room, full fifty feet in length, at one
end of which, under a species of canopy, formed by two old regimental
colors, sat Mademoiselle Minette,--for so I guessed to be a very
pretty brunette, with a most decidedly Parisian look about her air and
toilette; a table, covered with a snow-white napkin, was in front
of her, on which lay a large bouquet and an open book, in which she
appeared to be writing as we came in. The room on either side was
filled by small tables, around which sat parties drinking, card-playing,
singing or quarrelling as it might be, with a degree of energy and
vociferation only campaigning can give an idea of.

The first thing which surprised me was, that all ranks in the service
seemed confusedly mixed up together, there being no distinction of class
whatever; captains and corporals, sergeants, lieutenants, colonels, and
tambourmajors, were inextricably commingled, hobnobbing, handshaking,
and even kissing