he public.

He rode Aida, his favorite mare, an Irish sorrel of powerful frame, with
solid limbs, whose horizontal crupper and long tail indicated her race;
she was one of those animals that are calm and lively at the same time,
capable of going anywhere and of passing through all sorts of trials.

After its parade, the infantry, whose part in the affair was finished,
retraced their steps and took up a position on the other side of the
field of manoeuvres, facing the north, and in front of rising ground, in
preparation for the discharge of musketry.

During this time the artillery brigade, re-formed in battle array on the
parade-ground, detached six batteries, which advanced at a trot to within
one hundred and fifty metres of the tribunes, where they discharged a
volley. The long pieces were run rapidly to right and left, unmasking the
cavalry, which, after a similar volley from its own batteries, appeared
behind them in battle order, and executed a galloping march, its third
line held in reserve.

A few moments later all the troops rejoined the infantry on the ground
set apart for rest and for the purpose of partaking of a cold repast,
consisting of potted meats, with which each man was furnished.

Nothing more picturesque could be imagined than this temporary camp, with
its stacked arms, knapsacks lying on the ground, holes dug in the ground
in which to kindle fires, and the clattering of cans. On the other side
of the field the artillerymen and cavalrymen ate, holding their reins
under their arms, while their officers stood around some temporary table,
served by canteen men of the united divisions. Tiny columns of blue smoke
rose where coffee was making, and everywhere were the swift movement and
sprightly good-fellowship in which the soldier feels himself in his
natural element.

The curious spectators crowded themselves in front of the banner, while
in the centre of the square the military governor of Paris, and the other
officers, talked with some privileged persons who had been able to
present themselves among them.

Descending from his mount a little apart from the group, and plunged in
thought, the former sub-lieutenant of 'chasseurs a pied' gazed at the old
fortress, the sight of which recalled so many sad memories.

Vincennes had been his first garrison, and its proximity to Paris had
been disastrous for him. There he had entered one morning, stripped of
his fortune!

And what a series of disasters