It was a strange sight to see the savage soldier from the steppes of Russia, the dark-eyed, heavy-browed Gallician, the yellow-haired Saxon, the rude native of the Caucasus, who had thus given themselves a rendezvous in the very heart of European civilisation, wandering about—now stopping to admire some magnificent palace, now gazing with greedy wonder at the rich display of some jeweller, or the costly and splendid dresses which were exhibited in the shop windows; while here and there were gathered groups of men whose looks of undisguised hate and malignity were bent unceasingly upon the moving mass. Their bourgeois dress could not conceal that they were the old soldiers of the Empire—the men of Wagram, of Austerlitz, of Jena, and of Wilna—who now witnessed within their own capital the awful retribution of their own triumphant aggressions.
As the morning advanced the crowds increased, and as we approached the Place du Carrousel, regiments poured in from every street to the morning parade. Among these the Russian garde—the Bonnets d'or—were conspicuous for the splendour of their costume and the soldierlike precision of their movements, the clash of their brass cymbals and the wild strains of their martial music adding indescribably to their singular appearance. As the infantry drew up in line, we stopped to regard them, when from the Place Louis Quinze the clear notes of a military band rang out a quick step, and the Twenty-eighth British marched in to the air of 'The Young May Moon.' O'Grady's excitement could endure no longer. He jumped up in the calèche, and, waving his hat above his head, gave a cheer that rang through the long corridor beneath the Louvre. The Irish regiment caught up the cry, and a yell as wild as ever rose above the din of battle shook the air. A Cossack picket then cantering up suddenly halted, and, leaning down upon their horses' manes, seemed to listen; then dashing spurs into their horses' flanks they made the circuit of the Place at full gallop, while their 'Hurra!' burst forth with all the wild vehemence of their savage nature.
'We shall get into some precious scrape with all this,' said O'Grady, as, overcome with laughing, he fell back into the calèche.
Such was my own opinion; so telling the postillion to turn short into the next street we hurried away unperceived, and drove with all the speed we could muster for the Rue St. Honoré. The Hôtel de la Paix fortunately had room for us; and ordering our breakfasts we adjourned to dress, each resolving to make the most of his few hours at Paris.
I had just reached the breakfast-room, and was conning over the morning papers, when O'Grady entered in full uniform, his face radiant with pleasure, and the same easy, jaunty swagger in his walk as on the first day I met him.
'When do you expect to have your audience, Phil?' said I.
'I have had it, my boy. It's all over, finished, completed. Never was anything so successful I talked over the old Adjutant in such a strain, that, instead of dreaming about a court-martial on us, the worthy man is seriously bent on our obtaining compensation for the loss of the drag. He looked somewhat serious as I entered; but when once I made him laugh, the game was my own. I wish you had seen him wiping his dear old eyes as I described the covey of gendarmes taking the air. However, the main point is, the regiment is to be moved up to Paris, the commissaire is to receive a reprimand, our claim for some ten thousand francs is to be considered, and I am to dine with the Adjutant to-day and tell the story after dinner.'
'Do you know, Phil, I have a theory that an Irishman never begins to prosper but just at the moment that any one else would surely be ruined.'
'Don't make a theory of it, Jack, for it may turn out unlucky. But the practice is pretty much what you represent it. Fortune never treats people so well as when they don't care a fig about her. She's exactly like a lady patroness—confoundedly impertinent if you'll bear it, but all smiles if you won't. Have you ever met Tom Burke—“Burke of Ours,” as they call him, I believe, in half the regiments in the service?'
'No, never.'