"Quoi! Nom de Dieu--balayez au-dessous vos lits!" (Thunder and lightning! Sweep up under your beds.) The etiquette of the Legion in these things holds very strictly to old tradition; every légionnaire had to sweep under his bed, while the cleaning of the room was the work of the orderly on duty, who could of course not begin this work until the floor beneath the beds had been swept. That was the reason of all the "Quois" and "Nom de Dieus!" The man had every cause to be excited and angry. He had to drill like the others, and it was no trifle to have to sweep a large room, to dust and to fetch water; everything within ten minutes. And it had all to be in tip-top order, for a few minutes before commencing drill the colour-sergeant inspected quarters and if anything was not in order in the room the corporal was punished. And when the corporal was punished, he of course took care that his men were run in as well. Punctually at 6 A.M. we recruits mustered in the barrack-yard in drill uniform: white linen suit, blue sash, knapsack, cartridge-belt and rifle--uniforms and leather trappings of shining brightness. The almost pedantic cleanliness of the Legion, the coquetry of each individual légionnaire to put a certain amount of "chic" into his uniform, was the first thing Corporal Wassermann's vanity had taught us. In the quick easy marching pace of the Legion we went out to the "Plateau," a large open space near the negro quarter, surrounded by olive-trees and red African oaks. The yellow clayey ground was stamped hard by the marching of many thousands of légionnaires. On the one side of the "Plateau" was the "village nègre," the negro town. Close to the drill-ground the mosque, in proud white splendour, towered above the miserable, half-ruined huts of the negro quarter, and hour by hour sounded loudly from its minaret the priest's call to prayer: "All'il Allah. God is great...." "Arré, arré--go on, go on," yelled the Arabs, who drove their heavily laden donkeys across the place with much scolding and beating. By the side of the donkeys, like the beasts, heavily burdened, walked Arab women, the legs bare to above the knee, but the face modestly covered as prescribed by the teachings of the Prophet. Only a small portion of the forehead was left free by the veil, and this was painted with a bright red round spot of henna, the sign of the married woman. The Arabs glanced at us with timid side looks and hastened to pass on. Half-naked Arab and negro children raced about trying with comical "grandezza" to imitate the martial steps, and shouted Arab words at us which very likely were gross insults, until Corporal Wassermann picked up stones and drove them away. "Formez les faisceaux. Sac à terre." (Pile arms. Lay down your knapsacks.) "Pas gymnastique!" (At the double!) "En avant. Marche!" With this the daily routine began. It was the famous "Legion's breakfast," the lung-training of "double time."