From the men in the crowd outside come cries of "Vive la France!" "Vive la Légion!" And the native women join in the din with their repeated yells of "How! How! How!" The flag is unfurled, and floats out proudly on the light breeze. There is a glare of polished brass, as forty bugles are brought up with a jerk to as many mouths, and they blare out the salute to the flag "Au Drapeau." The General, who has drawn up his charger with a jerk, and sits with his right hand brought up to the peak of his white-plumed cocked hat, is in the full uniform of a commander of a _corps d'armée_, and his escort of Arab cavalry, in red cloaks and blue and white turbans, which has halted just inside the gates after wheeling smartly into line, forms a most picturesque background, which shuts out from sight the eager, shouting throngs in the street. The General, and indeed all the officers and troops present, remain at the "Salut," until the last notes from the bugles die away; and then comes the order, "Portez armes," a rattle--and all is still again. The detailed inspection of the troops and their quarters terminated, the regiment is marched out to the parade ground, where manoeuvres are gone through, the duration of which depends entirely on the whim of the Inspector-General. However, these rarely last more than two hours, and then the corps marches back to barracks through the town, much to the delight of the Arab population, who are a warlike people and thoroughly enjoy a military pageant. Also the Legion presents a pleasing sight to a soldier's eyes, as with bayonets fixed the men swing by, each battalion, company and file at its proper distance. The tramp of feet resounds with clockwork regularity, in union with the musical rhythm of the band, and the blare of the bugles, crashing out the regimental march with its rattling chorus, the words seeming to hover over the lips of all the men: "Tiens voila du boudin! voila du boudin! voila du boudin! Pour les Alsaciens, les Suisses et les Lorrains, Pour les Belges il n'y en a point, Pour les Belges il n'y en a point, Car ce sont des tireurs au flanc. Pour les Belges il n'y en a point, Pour les Belges il n'y en a point, Car ce sont des tireurs au flanc." No other regiment in France can approach the Legion for smartness at drill and on parade. The men are proud of the reputation, and make every effort to maintain it. The bands of the 1st and 2nd Régiments Étrangers are of the best. That of the first of these corps is particularly good, and it possesses a weird and barbaric sort of musical instrument--if so it can be called--which was captured in an engagement with the troops of the famous Arab chief Abd-el-Kader, some sixty years ago.