s of the
Emperor's score of native races, all were here out of the nearer Orient,
with curved swords and ferocious bearing. There were the countrymen of
the Empress, too; the Belgians, who were as bedecked of sleeve as a drum
corps. And as to the French, there they were in green and silver, in sky
blue, in cuirassier helmets, in the zouave fez, or in any of the other
ways in which they bore _their_ chips on the shoulder.

Shelby's ragged Missourians had tossed on straw for the lack of quinine,
and yet were presuming to save this gorgeous empire of golden spurred
gentlemen. The thought of his mission gave Driscoll an ironic twinge.

But there was the pantalon rouge, the little soldier boy of France who
did the work, and the sight of him put the American into a friendly
humor. He was everywhere, the little pantalon rouge, streaming the
walks, dotting the cafes with red, and every wee piou-piou under the
great big epaulettes of a great big comic opera generalissimo. His huge
military coat fitted him awkwardly, and the crimson pompon cocked on his
little fighting kepi was more often awry, and he could not by any effort
achieve a strut. He was only bon enfant, this unconquered soldier lad;
so he gave over trying to be martial, and left to his officers the role
of the Gallic rooster, taking it all as a droll joke on himself, while
his vivacious eyes danced with fun.

The ambassador's coach passed under the cypresses and wound round the
Aztec hill of the Grasshopper, and came at last to the castle on the
summit. And as Guatemotzin had once ventured to this place to plead with
Moctezuma to save his empire, and to show him how to do it, so Driscoll
now entered the portals of Chapultepec on a very similar errand.

The superb Indian lord was never so hedged in with barbaric ceremony as
was his Teuton successor of three centuries later. But Driscoll was
patient. He advanced as the red tape gave way, humming under his breath
"Green Grows the Grass," a schottische which the American invaders of
'48 had sung in taking this same fortress, which also had given all
Americans the name of "Gringo."

Guardias Palatinas saluted the Missourian at the entrance. Two
Secretaries of Ceremony, Grand Uniform, with cordon and the Imperial
eagle, bowed before him in the Gran Patio. One stepped to his right, the
other to his left, with all the ceremony of which they were secretaries,
and the three walked abreast the length of the Galeria de Iturbi