[29] Clerk.
[30] Fille: woman, term applied to all persons of the gentler sex in all criminal proceedings.
[31] A kind of police-court. Only felonies are tried by jury in France.
[32] Tourniquet: a piece of very flexible steel cord which is passed round the prisoner's wrist, or wrists, the two ends being held by the guard. The slightest twist causes such excruciating agony that no prisoner can escape.
[33] The motto of the French Republic, which is painted on all French monuments.
[CHAPTER VII]
The day following my second night in the Salle de Police was a Saturday, and inspection-day. Our clothing was to be inspected on this occasion. Each trooper had to lay on his bed his various garments in such a way that the regimental numbers should be clearly displayed. The inspection took place at 2 P.M., but as early as 12.30 our respective corporals compared the list in our livret with the clothes on our beds, counting our tunics, trousers, boots, underlinen, towels, and stable costume (canvas trousers and blouse), in order to ascertain whether any of our outfit was missing. All our underclothing had to be previously washed, as well as our stable uniform, so that troopers had to purchase secondhand canvas trousers and blouses to wear while the others were drying.
In order to avoid punishment in case any of my kit should be missing, I had, shortly after my arrival in the regiment, a complete duplicate set of outfit made to order by the regimental tailor, bootmaker, and armourer. The clothes were made of exactly the same pattern and cloth as those issued to us, but they were cut so that I could wear them without discomfort. I had regulation boots made in which I could walk with ease, and besides these I had several pairs made in Paris by my own bootmaker; in appearance these looked like regulation boots, but the toes were narrower and the heels lower, with box spurs, imitating the regulation spurs, screwed into the heels. These I used for drill on foot and on horseback. I had arranged to keep all my regulation outfit in a box which I left in the orderly's room which I have already mentioned. In this way I was always able to produce my regulation outfit in perfect order whenever a clothing inspection was held. That morning I sent Titi to fetch my clothes and regimental underlinen from their box, in which was also stored all my duplicate kit, as we were forbidden to keep on our shelves anything besides our regulation outfit, or to have even a locker under our beds. Under the previous Colonel troopers had been allowed to have a box in which they could lock up their private belongings, such as spare underclothing and letters, as well as any money they might possess. To be deprived of this convenience was hard on most of the troopers, as they had to carry their money day and night on their persons. It was even impossible to keep a book, as this was invariably "bagged" while its owner was at drill or stables. Petty thefts were of common occurrence, and it even happened several times to me to have loose cash stolen from under my bolster when I was asleep. To complain of a theft would only have made the complainant pass as a dirty sneak among his comrades, and would have exposed every man of his squadron to suspicion.
To return to the inspection: The Corporal having seen that each man's outfit was complete, the Sergeant came to inspect the trooper's clothes to make sure that they were in proper order, that no button was missing, and that all spots of grease or dirt had been properly removed. In case a trooper was short of some article of clothing, this was duly reported by the Corporal, the Sergeant making a note of it and reporting it in his turn to the Lieutenant. If there was time enough before the arrival of the officer, troopers who had sufficient money could go and purchase at the canteen any small articles which were needed to complete their kit (sponges and chamois leathers were especially apt to be stolen from Volontaires, as it was impossible to identify such articles). At five minutes to two we all had to be ready at the foot of our beds; and the Sergeant-major passed through the room to make sure that everything was in order, and every trooper properly attired. A quarter of an hour later the cry of "Fixe!" (Attention) was uttered by the trooper standing nearest to the door. This announced the arrival of an officer. The first to come was the Lieutenant of our peloton, a stout, middle-aged man, who spoke through his nose. He carefully turned over the clothes on each man's bed, distributing here and there a few days of Salle de Police. When my turn came he looked at me.