orward in front of the carriage, he uttered wild shouts
of delight, mingled with the words: "Long live the Bacchanal
Queen!"--after which, he shook and whirled the enormous rattle he held in
his hand. Standing beside him, Sleepinbuff waved on high a banner of
white silk, on which were the words: "Love and joy to the Bacchanal
Queen!"

Sleepinbuff was about twenty-five years of age. His countenance was gay
and intelligent, surrounded by a collar of chestnut-colored whiskers; but
worn with late hours and excesses, it expressed a singular mixture of
carelessness and hardihood, recklessness and mockery; still, no base or
wicked passion had yet stamped there its fatal impress. He was the
perfect type of the Parisian, as the term is generally applied, whether
in the army, in the provinces, on board a king's ship, or a merchantman.
It is not a compliment, and yet it is far from being an insult; it is an
epithet which partakes at once of blame, admiration, and fear; for if, in
this sense, the Parisian is often idle and rebellious, he is also quick
at his work, resolute in danger, and always terribly satirical and fond
of practical jokes.

He was dressed in a very flashy style. He wore a black velvet jacket with
silver buttons, a scarlet waistcoat, trousers with broad blue stripes, a
Cashmere shawl for a girdle with ends loosely floating, and a chimney-pot
hat covered with flowers and streamers. This disguise set off his light,
easy figure to great advantage.

At the back of the carriage, standing up on the cushions, were Rose
Pompon and the Bacchanal Queen.

Rose-Pompon, formerly a fringe-maker, was about seventeen years old, and
had the prettiest and most winning little face imaginable. She was gayly
dressed in debardeur costume. Her powdered wig, over which was smartly
cocked on one side an orange and green cap laced with silver, increased
the effect of her bright black eyes, and of her round, carnation cheeks.
She wore about her neck an orange-colored cravat, of the same material as
her loose sash. Her tight jacket and narrow vest of light green velvet,
with silver ornaments, displayed to the best advantage a charming figure,
the pliancy of which must have well suited the evolutions of the Storm
blown Tulip. Her large trousers, of the same stuff and color as the
jacket, were not calculated to hide any of her attractions.

The Bacchanal Queen, being at the least a head taller, leaned with one
hand on the shoulder of Rose