It is a peaceful
army, though the names of its leaders (if we heard them), might stir up
warlike memories--there are Howards and Percys amongst them, but there
is no clash of arms; they come of a brave lineage, their ancestors
fought well under the walls of Pont Audemer; but they have laid down
their arms for centuries--their end is commerce and peace.
Let us stand aside under the lime trees, and see them pass. But they are
making a halt, their horses go straight to the water-trough, and the
whole cavalcade comes to a stand; the old women in the carts (wearing
starched caps a foot high) with baskets of eggs, butter, cheeses, and
piles of merchandise, sit patiently until the time comes to start again;
and the drivers, in blouses and wooden sabots, lounge about and smoke,
or sit down to rest. The young girls, who accompany the expedition and
who will soon take their places in the market, now set to work
systematically to perform their toilettes, commencing by washing their
feet in a stream, and putting on the shoes and stockings which they had
carried during their wet march; then more ablutions, with much fun, and
laughter, and tying up of tresses, and producing from baskets of those
wonderful caps which we have sketched so often--_souffles_ of most
fantastic shape and startling dimensions. This was the crowning work,
the picture was complete: bright, fresh, morning faces, glowing under
white caps; neat grey or blue dresses with white bodices, or coloured
handkerchiefs; grey stockings, shoes with buckles, and a silver cross, a
rosary, or a flower.
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