The place was evidently the clearing-house and military hotel for all soldiers coming from, or returning to, the army of Africa. There was a babel of noise and a confusing turmoil as these leave-men rushed about in search of pay-corporals, fourrier-sergents, kit, papers, food, and the canteen. Gaudy waistcoats, zouave jackets, fez caps, and vast scarlet cloaks completed their picturesquely barbaric costumes. In these they rolled each other up, one man holding and manipulating the end, while the other spun round and round towards him, winding the sash tightly about himself as he did so. Above these garments they wore sashes that appeared to be yards in length and feet in width. Their trousers were voluminous enough to be called skirts, in fact one leg would have provided the material for an ample frock. Jean was now crowded with soldiers of every regiment of the army of Africa, the famous Nineteenth Army Corps, and, for the first time, I saw the Spahis of whom the French officer had talked to us at Brandon Abbas.
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