When I reached the bootmaker's special corner, I found him cursing furiously because he could not fit one of my comrades. "Ah ces nom de Dieu de —— d'volontaires faudrait leur y faire des bottes expres. Ah malheur de Dieu vrai!" At last he seemed to have succeeded and called me forward in turn. Having told me to take off one of my boots he looked at it: "Encore un d'ces malheurs de Dieu qu'a des pieds qu'ça fait suer," he exclaimed. "I shall never find boots for you," he went on, "why have you got a long narrow foot like that? Damnation! damnation!" he kept repeating as he went to look through his stock.
I must mention here that only four sizes of boots are kept in stock; they all are square-toed and immensely broad; the heels are nearly two inches high, with spurs nailed on to them. The top of the boot is made of a soft piece of leather on which two leather tags are sewn, the boot itself reaching half way up the calf of the leg. Most French soldiers are, I suppose, flat-footed. At any rate every boot presented to me was so low in the instep that I could not find a single pair in which I could insert my feet, until, at last, the assistant bootmaker triumphantly produced a pair about two inches too long and an inch too broad for me, explaining that if I put sufficient straw inside them they would fit all right. Finally, I had to pull down the leather portion of my trousers over the boots, not forgetting to fasten the under straps which alone prevented the boots from dropping off my feet. I hobbled as well as I could towards the tailor; he turned me round admiringly.
"It's all right," he said, "go and show yourself to the Captain."
My boots, as I have just said, were only held on my feet by the straps under them, and at every step my spurs caught in the heavy leather coverings of my trousers, but at last I managed to reach the Captain.
He ordered me to unbutton my tunic, and looking at my elephantine trousers: "What's that?" he cried; "put your braces lower," and artistically creasing my trousers from top to bottom, he stepped back a few feet, and having had a good look at me: "They're too short," he said, "go and get another pair from the tailor." As I was hobbling away he called me back. "What are those boots you've got on? They are too big for you. Are you such an idiot that you can't feel they are too big?"
"Yes, sir," I replied, "but——"
"But!" he exclaimed, "now look here, my boy, please understand that we don't allow remarks of any kind in the army. Go and get another pair of boots and trousers, and look sharp about it."
I stumbled back towards the bootmaker. "The Captain says," I began, "that these boots are too large for me and that you must find me another pair."
"Ah, these d——d Volontaires, what a lot of trouble they give us!" sighed the bootmaker. After looking through all his stock he chucked three more pairs at me. In vain I tried to get into them, and called the bootmaker to show him that none of them would fit me. "Why the deuce don't you take off your socks, socks aren't regulation," he angrily retorted. Notwithstanding my protests, I had to take them off. At last I managed to get one foot inside a boot, but the other, notwithstanding the efforts of two strong men, resisted. "All right," said the bootmaker, "I'll stretch it a bit later on."
So with only one boot on I hobbled to the tailor. "The Captain says my trousers are too short," I told him.