Of the two balconies which overhung the banquette on the front of the Delicieuse house, one was a small affair, and the other a deeper and broader one, from which Madame and her ladies were wont upon gala days to wave handkerchiefs and cast flowers to the friends in the processions.  There they gathered one Eighth of January morning to see the military display.  It was a bright blue day, and the group that quite filled the balcony had laid wrappings aside, as all flower-buds are apt to do on such Creole January days, and shone resplendent in spring attire.

The sight-seers passing below looked up by hundreds and smiled at the ladies’ eager twitter, as, flirting in humming-bird fashion from one subject to another, they laughed away the half-hours waiting for the pageant.  By and by they fell a-listening, for Madame Delicieuse had begun a narrative concerning Dr. Mossy.  She sat somewhat above her listeners, her elbow on the arm of her chair, and her plump white hand waving now and then in graceful gesture, they silently attending with eyes full of laughter and lips starting apart.

“Vous savez,” she said (they conversed in French of course), “you know it is now long that Dr. Mossy and his father have been in disaccord.  Indeed, when have they not differed?  For, when Mossy was but a little boy, his father thought it hard that he was not a rowdy.  He switched him once because he would not play with his toy gun and drum.  He was not so high when his father wished to send him to Paris to enter the French army; but he would not go.  We used to play often together on the banquette—­for I am not so very many years younger than he, no indeed—­and, if I wanted some fun, I had only to pull his hair and run into the house; he would cry, and monsieur papa would come out with his hand spread open and”—­

Madame gave her hand a malicious little sweep, and Joined heartily in the laugh which followed.

“That was when they lived over the way.  But wait! you shall see:  I have something.  This evening the General”—­

The houses of Rue Royale gave a start and rattled their windows.  In the long, irregular line of balconies the beauty of the city rose up.  Then the houses jumped again and the windows rattled; Madame steps inside the window and gives a message which the housemaid smiles at in receiving.  As she turns the houses shake again, and now again; and now there comes a distant strain of trumpets, and by and by the drums and bayonets and clattering hoofs, and plumes and dancing banners; far down the long street stretch out the shining ranks of gallant men, and the fluttering, over-leaning swarms of ladies shower down their sweet favors and wave their countless welcomes.

In the front, towering above his captains, rides General Villivicencio, veteran of 1814-15, and, with the gracious pomp of the old-time gentleman, lifts his cocked hat, and bows, and bows.