A stand had been hastily assembled between two trees, surmounted by a string to which were clipped drawings; and a wild-looking man (the artist, Elizabeth supposed) was pointing to one for the benefit of a well-looking gentleman standing near. Another officer, wearing a cap with a tall plume, seemed to be inspecting the proceedings with an interest scarcely justified. There were jugglers, Merry-Andrews, mimes, musicians, acrobats, a sad supply of maimed soldiers from the Hôtel des Invalides, and, oddly enough, shoe-blacks advertising that there plied English blacking as some added inducement to custom. Bacon was vended by a woman carrying a charcoal fire by means of a leathern tray strapped from her shoulders; bakers in white toques and aprons hauled overflowing baskets quite similar to those of their northern neighbours; another wood-porter had faggots strapped to his back by means of an old board; an old cloathes-man dignified his humble calling—as the French will—with the appellation Marchand d’Habits; and patrols of solders in bicorns marched without apparent purpose or destination amidst innumerable stray dogs.

Water-carriers hauled water from the reservoirs and fountains to the houses; given the filth of the dwellings, it appeared that the substance must be very dear, indeed, although the cry of “de l’eau” was constantly heard. There were nuns in long, white caps, whose occupation was to visit the sick. An organ-grinder sang “Vive Henry Quatre,” which, despite the dreadful character of his voice, was received by the French near-by with great energy and satisfaction. Adjacent to a very lofty and noble building obtruded the ragged, dirty stall of an old woman who mended stockings. The markets were distinguished by rows of large umbrellas, ten feet wide, shielding poissardes well-supplied with every variety of fruit, vegetable, fish, milk vended from open pails, and—to English eyes—a vast quantity of game. There were great numbers of dogs employed in pulling carts through the streets, donkeys laden with all manner of goods, exquisite equipages, drays pulled by miserable-looking horses, and amidst all of the clamor, dust, dirt, and general inconvenience, elegant ladies and gentlemen, officers of the Chausseurs de la Garde Impériale and the Infanterie de Ligne promenaded in their furs, spotless white breeches, and gleaming coats, the latter struggling to maintain their identities under a surfeit of medallions and gold braids. The city seemed to consist of an assembly of opposites: wealth and penury, magnificence and squalor, taste and filth.

VOL. II.

CHAP. 1.