In an arbor, a little further on, we saw two young people whispering
earnestly, and conscious of no eyes but each other's.

"A pair of lovers," said Sullivan.

"And a pair that seldom get the chance of meeting, if we may judge by
their untasted omelette," replied Dalrymple. "But where's the
bridal party?"

"Oh, we shall find them presently. You seem interested."

"I am. I mean to dance with the bride and make the bridegroom jealous."

We laughed and passed on, peeping into every arbor, observing every
group, and turning to stare at every pretty girl we met. My own aptitude
in the acquisition of these arts of gallantry astonished myself. Now, we
passed a couple of soldiers playing at dominoes; now a noisy party round
a table in the open air covered with bottles; now an arbor where half a
dozen young men and three or four girls were assembled round a bowl of
blazing punch. The girls were protesting they dare not drink it, but
were drinking it, nevertheless, with exceeding gusto.

"Grisettes and _commis voyageurs!_" said Dalrymple, contemptuously. "Let
us go and look at the dancers."

We went on, and stood in the shelter of some trees near the orchestra.
The players consisted of three violins, a clarionette and a big drum.
The big drum was an enthusiastic performer. He belabored his instrument
as heartily as if it had been his worst enemy, but with so much
independence of character that he never kept the same time as his