Are not these remarkable incidents?  The next wonder we saw was the arrival of a set of tottering old Invalids, who took their places under us with drawn sabres.  Then came a superb drum-major, a handsome smiling good-humored giant of a man, his breeches astonishingly embroidered with silver lace.  Him a dozen little drummer-boys followed—­“the little darlings!” all the ladies cried out in a breath:  they were indeed pretty little fellows, and came and stood close under us:  the huge drum-major smiled over his little red-capped flock, and for many hours in the most perfect contentment twiddled his moustaches and played with the tassels of his cane.

Now the company began to arrive thicker and thicker.  A whole covey of Conseillers-d’Etat came in, in blue coats, embroidered with blue silk, then came a crowd of lawyers in toques and caps, among whom were sundry venerable Judges in scarlet, purple velvet, and ermine—­a kind of Bajazet costume.  Look there! there is the Turkish Ambassador in his red cap, turning his solemn brown face about and looking preternaturally wise.  The Deputies walk in in a body.  Guizot is not there:  he passed by just now in full ministerial costume.  Presently little Thiers saunters back:  what a clear, broad sharp-eyed face the fellow has, with his gray hair cut down so demure!  A servant passes, pushing through the crowd a shabby wheel-chair.  It has just brought old Moncey the Governor of the Invalids, the honest old man who defended Paris so stoutly in 1814.  He has been very ill, and is worn down almost by infirmities:  but in his illness he was perpetually asking, “Doctor, shall I live till the 15th?  Give me till then, and I die contented.”  One can’t help believing that the old man’s wish is honest, however one may doubt the piety of another illustrious Marshal, who once carried a candle before Charles X. in a procession, and has been this morning to Neuilly to kneel and pray at the foot of Napoleon’s coffin.  He might have said his prayers at home, to be sure; but don’t let us ask too much:  that kind of reserve is not a Frenchman’s characteristic.

Bang—­bang!  At about half-past two a dull sound of cannonading was heard without the church, and signals took place between the Commandant of the Invalids, of the National Guards, and the big drum-major.  Looking to these troops (the fat Nationals were shuffling into line again) the two Commandants tittered, as nearly as I could catch them, the following words—­

“HARRUM hump!”

At once all the National bayonets were on the present, and the sabres of the old Invalids up.  The big drum-major looked round at the children, who began very slowly and solemnly on their drums, Rub-dub-dub—­rub-dub-dub—­(count two between each)—­rub-dub-dub, and a great procession of priests came down from the altar.