She can never be pretty, that bad-tempered Redhead, but her dress fitted her like a glove and one was only aware of the eyes that sparkled from under the fiery waves crowned by an extremely smart black hat.
‘Where is the flag?’ she demanded at once.
The flag came forward, modest and pleased with itself.
‘That’s good!
That’s … very good!
Come here, Claudine … I knew you’d be at your best.
And now, seduce that Minister for me!’
She rapidly reviewed her white battalion, arranged a curl here, pulled a ribbon there, did up Luce’s skirt which was gaping, slid a reinforcing hairpin into Anais’s chignon and, having scrutinized everything with her redoubtable eye, seized the bundle of various inscriptions: Long live France!
Long live the Republic!
Long live Liberty!
Long live the Minister! … etc., twenty pennants in all which she distributed to Luce, to the Jauberts, to various chosen souls who crimsoned with pride and held the shaft upright like a candle, envied by the mere mortals who were fuming.
Our three bouquets, tied with a shower of red, white and blue ribbons, were taken with infinite precautions out of their cotton wool like jewels.
Dutertre had used the money of the secret funds to advantage; I received a bunch of white camellias, Anais one of red camellias; the big bouquet of great velvety cornflowers fell to Marie’s share, since nature, not having foreseen ministerial receptions, had neglected to produce blue camellias.
The little ones pushed forward to see and already slaps were being exchanged, along with shrill complaints.
‘That’s enough!’ cried Mademoiselle. ‘Do you think I’ve got time to be a policeman? Come here, flag!
Marie on the left, Anais on the right, Claudine in the middle, and forward march. Hurry up and get down into the playground!
It would be a fine thing if we missed the arrival of the train!
Banner-bearers, follow in fours, the tallest in front …’
We descended the steps into the courtyard without waiting to hear more; Luce and the tallest ones walked behind us, the pennants of their lances flapped lightly above our heads; followed by a trampling like sheep, we passed under the arch of greenery – WELCOME TO OUR VISITORS!
The whole crowd which awaited us outside, a crowd in its Sunday best, excited and ready to shout
‘Long live – it doesn’t matter what!’ let out a huge ‘Ah!’ at the sight of us, as if we were fireworks.
Proud as little peacocks, our eyes lowered, but inwardly bursting with vanity, we walked delicately, our bouquets in our clasped hands, treading on the strewn leaves and flowers that kept down the dust. It was only after some minutes that we exchanged sidelong looks and rapturous smiles, in a daze of bliss.
‘We’re having a gorgeous time!’ sighed Marie, gazing at the green paths along which we proceeded slowly between two hedges of gaping onlookers, under the leafy arches which filtered the sunshine, letting a charming, artificial daylight sift through, as if in the depths of a wood.
‘We certainly are!
You’d think all the festivities were for us!’ Anais did not breathe a word, too absorbed in her dignity, too busy searching out among the crowd, that made way before us, for boys whom she knew and who she imagined thought she was dazzling.
Not beautiful today, nevertheless, in all that white – no, certainly not beautiful! … but her narrow eyes sparkled with pride all the same.
At the crossroads of the Market, they shouted to us:
‘Halt!’
We had to let ourselves be joined by the boys’ school, a whole dark procession which was only kept in regular ranks with infinite difficulty.
The boys seemed thoroughly contemptible to us today, sunburnt and awkward in their best suits; their great, clumsy hands held up flags.
During the halt, we all three turned round, in spite of our importance: behind us Luce and her like leant like warriors on the spears of their pennants; the little thing was radiant with vanity and held herself straight, like Fanchette when she is showing off; she kept laughing low from sheer pleasure!
And, as far as eye could see, under the green arches, with their starched, full-skirted dresses and their bushy manes, stretched the deep ranks of the army of female Gauls.
‘Forward march!’
We set off again, light as wrens; we went down the Rue du Cloitre and eventually we passed that green wall made of trimmed yew that represented a fortified castle. As the sun struck hot on the road, they halted us in the shade of a little acacia wood just outside the town, there to await the arrival of the ministerial carriages.
We relaxed a little.
‘Is my wreath keeping on all right?’ inquired Anais.
‘Yes … see for yourself.’
I passed her a little pocket-mirror that I had prudently brought and we made sure that our head-dresses were in position … The crowd had followed us, but too tightly packed in the road, it had broken down the hedges that bordered it and was trampling down the fields, regardless of the second crop.
The boys, delirious with excitement, carried bunches of flowers and flags, not to mention bottles! (I was sure of this because I had just seen one stop, throw back his head and drink from the neck of one that held a litre.)
The ‘Society’ ladies had remained at the gates of the town and were seated, some on the grass, some on camp-stools, and all under parasols.
They would wait there, it was more refined; it was unbecoming to show too much enthusiasm.
Over there, flags floated over the red roofs of the station, towards which the crowd was hurrying; the noise of it retreated into the distance.
Mademoiselle Sergent, all in black, and her Aimee, all in white, already out of breath from supervising us and trotting beside us, sat down on the grass, lifting up their skirts so as not to get green stains on them.
We waited, standing. We had no desire to talk – I went over in my head the rather absurd little complimentary speech, composed by Antonin Rabastens, that I should have to recite in a moment.
Mr Minister, – The children of the schools of Montigny, bearing the flowers of their native countryside … (If anyone has ever seen fields of camellias here, let them say so!) … come to you, full of gratitude …
Boom!!! A fusillade bursting out at the station brought our mistresses to their feet.
The shouts of the populace came to us in a muffled roar, that suddenly grew louder and came nearer, with a confused din of joyous cries, the tramp of innumerable feet and the gallop of horses’ hooves … Tense, we all watched the spot where the road turned … At last, at last, the vanguard came in sight: dusty urchins trailing branches and bawling; then floods of people; then two broughams that glittered in the sun and two or three laudaus from which emerged arms waving hats … We watched them, all eyes … The carriages approached at a slowed-down trot; they were there, in front of us.
A young man in black evening clothes jumped out and offered his arm to support the Minister of Agriculture.
The great man had not a ha’porth of distinction, in spite of the pains he took to appear imposing to us.
I even found him slightly ridiculous, this haughty little gentleman, stout as a bullfinch, who was mopping his undistinguished brow and his hard eyes and his short, reddish beard for he was dripping with sweat.