We took our after-dinner coffee on the balcony and saw the swing bridge giving passage to a Spanish vessel which was leaving the harbour. At nine o’clock in the evening a retreat was sounded from the neighbouring barracks. At the first beat of the drum the soldiers hastened up to their quarters from all parts of the town.
In spite of Mme. Kethoudoff’s hospitality, we moved that same night to the Hôtel des Étrangers, where we shall feel ourselves more at home and independent.
I lay in bed late next morning. After breakfast we went for a walk on the beach; the weather was rainy and the sea uniformly grey, nothing but furious waves around us. The monotony of this sea-shore unnerved me. We shall probably not make a long stay here. Neither is the bathing very agreeable at Dieppe; it only takes place at the hours of low water, and the bottom of the sea is so rough and stony that the bathers are obliged to put on sandals with very thick soles.
The rain having stopped in the afternoon, we drove to “Puits,” a small place consisting of lovely villas. Our driver, who was very talkative, gave us the pedigree of all of them. The prettiest villa belongs to Alexandre Dumas Fils, who is residing here at the present moment.
The next day was the eve of the National Festival of the French Republic. There was a “Retraite aux Flambeaux” (a torch retreat) in the evening. The soldiers began to beat the tattoo and marched through the crowded streets holding lighted torches in their hands. They were preceded by a military band and a body of fire-men. The whole town had a holiday air about it. The carriages being stopped that day, the middle of the streets was occupied by groups of women wearing their best clothes, who promenaded to and fro, coquetting with their young men arrayed in blue blouses.
Very early next morning the maid came to knock at our door begging us not to shut our windows as the cannon was going to be fired. It appears that the proprietor of the hotel was afraid our windows would fly to pieces, although the cannon had been placed at a great distance and there could be no danger whatever that such a thing should happen. Guns must surely be very rarely fired at Dieppe to procure such a panic.
The greater part of the inhabitants of Dieppe are anti-republicans, and the Mayor of the Town had to go himself to the “Vicaire du Pollet” to beg him to hoist the Republican flag over his house.
At nine o’clock there was a review of all the troops quartered at Dieppe, consisting mainly of a battery of infantry, on the large square before the hotel. I threw on my morning-wrapper, and in slippers, my hair hanging loose, I made my way to the next room which was free at that moment, and the windows of which looked out into the square. I was busy critically observing the military evolutions when suddenly there was a sound of footsteps, the door opened behind me and an elegant couple was ushered into the room by the manager, who was going to let it to them. The pair surveyed me quizzically whilst I fled hastily, ashamed to be caught thus.
After lunch we went to see the games and all sorts of public amusements on the square: rocking-horses, targets, foot-runs and what not! A slight railing divided the fashionable world from the world that works, only the local aristocracy, ultra-provincial I must say, was admitted within the enclosure. The prizes for the most part consisted of different foods. The crowd gathered around the chief attraction, a climbing post with a gigantic leg of mutton at the top of it. The native lads could not succeed in reaching it; taking toss after toss they slipped from the pole to the ecstatic joy of the onlookers. At last a young fellow had nearly attained the tempting prize, but he could not keep up on the pole and fell to the ground weakened by the strain of his position, without his leg of mutton. We stopped before a stall with brass medals bearing the inscription Vive la France! When I asked if there were any medals with Vive la République the woman who sold them answered in a voice full of indignation that she did not keep such horrors.
For some days the bad weather kept us indoors, it came on to rain as if it never meant to stop. Warmly wrapped up in a shawl I passed many dull hours lolling rather disconsolately in an easy chair, listening to the monotonous song of the wind in the chimney—a lively way to pass the time! We were growing very weary of Dieppe; I am absolutely sick of the place, and the best thing we can do is to pack up and go. As there was nothing to keep us here we decided, one wet, gloomy afternoon, to fling Dieppe to the winds and start for Paris, thence to travel right out to Switzerland.