tartarin of tarascon-第15部分

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All　around　spread　the　plains　in　waste；　burnt　grass；　leafless　shrubs；　thickets　of　cactus　and　mastic　　〃the　Granary　of　France！〃　　a　granary　void　of　grain；　alas！　and　rich　alone　in　vermin　and　jackals。　Abandoned　camps；　frightened　tribes　fleeing　from　them　and　famine；　they　know　not　whither；　and　strewing　the　road　with　corpses。　　At　long　intervals　French　villages；　with　the　dwellings　in　ruins；　the　fields　untilled；　the　maddened　locusts　gnawing　even　the　window…blinds；　and　all　the　settlers　in　the　drinking…places；　absorbing　absinthe　and　discussing　projects　of　reform　and　the　Constitution。

This　is　what　Tartarin　might　have　seen　had　he　given　himself　the　trouble；　but；　wrapped　up　entirely　in　his　leonine…hunger；　the　son　of　Tarascon　went　straight　on；　looking　to　neither　right　nor　left；　his　eyes　steadfastly　fixed　on　the　imaginary　monsters　which　never　really　appeared。

As　the　shelter…tent　was　stubborn　in　not　unfolding；　and　the　compressed　meat…cakes　would　not　dissolve；　the　caravan　was　obliged　to　stop；　morn　and　eve；　at　tribal　camps。　Everywhere；　thanks　to　the　gorgeous　cap　of　Prince　Gregory；　our　hunters　were　welcomed　with　open　arms。　They　lodged　in　the　aghas'　odd　palaces；　large　white　windowless　farmhouses；　where　they　found；　pell…mell；　narghilehs　and　mahogany　furniture；　Smyrna　carpets　and　moderator　lamps；　cedar　coffers　full　of　Turkish　sequins；　and　French　statuette…decked　clocks　in　the　Louis　Philippe　style。

Everywhere；　too；　Tartarin　was　given　splendrous　galas；　diffas；　and　fantasias；　which；　being　interpreted；　mean　feasts　and　circuses。　In　his　honour　whole　goums　blazed　away　powder；　and　floated　their　burnouses　in　the　sun。　When　the　powder　was　burnt；　the　agha　would　come　and　hand　in　his　bill。　This　is　what　is　called　Arab　hospitality。

But　always　no　lions；　no　more　than　on　London　Bridge。

Nevertheless；　the　Tarasconian　did　not　grow　disheartened。　　Ever　bravely　diving　more　deeply　into　the　South；　he　spent　the　days　in　beating　up　the　thickets；　probing　the　dwarf…palms　with　the　muzzle　of　his　rifle；　and　saying　〃Boh！〃　to　every　bush　　And　every　evening；　before　lying　down；　he　went　into　ambush　for　two　or　three　hours。　Useless　trouble；　however；　for　the　lion　did　not　show　himself。

One　evening；　though；　going　on　six　o'clock；　as　the　caravan　scrambled　through　a　violet…hued　mastic…grove；　where　fat　quails　tumbled　about　in　the　grass；　drowsy　through　the　heat；　Tartarin　of　Tarascon　fancied　he　heard　though　afar　and　very　vague；　and　thinned　down　by　the　breeze　　that　wondrous　roaring　to　which　he　had　so　often　listened　by　Mitaine's　Menagerie　at　home。

At　first　the　hero　feared　he　was　dreaming；　but　in　an　instant　further　the　roaring　recommenced　more　distinct；　although　yet　remote；　and　this　time　the　camel's　hump　shivered　in　terror；　and　made　the　tinned　meats　and　arms　in　the　cases　rattle；　whilst　all　the　dogs　in　the　camps　were　heard　howling　in　every　corner　of　the　horizon。

Beyond　doubt　this　was　the　lion。

Quick；　quick！　to　the　ambush。　　There　was　not　a　minute　to　lose。

Near　at　hand　there　happened　to　be　an　old　marabout's；　or　saint's；　tomb；　with　a　white　cupola；　and　the　defunct's　large　yellow　slippers　placed　in　a　niche　over　the　door；　and　a　mass　of　odd　offerings　　hems　of　blankets；　gold　thread；　red　hair　　hung　on　the　wall。

Tartarin　of　Tarascon　left　his　prince　and　his　camel　and　went　in　search　of　a　good　spot　for　lying　in　wait。　　Prince　Gregory　wanted　to　follow　him；　but　the　Tarasconian　refused；　bent　on　confronting　Leo　alone。　　But　still　he　besought　His　Highness　not　to　go　too　far　away；　and；　as　a　measure　of　foresight；　he　entrusted　him　with　his　pocket…　book；　a　good…sized　one；　full　of　precious　papers　and　bank…notes；　which　he　feared　would　get　torn　by　the　lion's　claws。　This　done；　our　hero　looked　up　a　good　place。

A　hundred　steps　in　front　of　the　temple　a　little　clump　of　rose…laurel　shook　in　the　twilight　haze　on　the　edge　of　a　rivulet　all　but　dried　up。　There　it　was　that　Tartarin　went　and　ensconced　himself；　one　knee　on　the　ground；　according　to　the　regular　rule；　his　rifle　in　his　hand；　and　his　huge　hunting…knife　stuck　boldly　before　him　in　the　sandy　bank。

Night　fell。

The　rosy　tint　of　nature　changed　into　violet；　and　then　into　dark　blue。　A　petty　pool　of　clear　water　gleamed　like　a　hand…glass　over　the　river…pebbles；　this　was　the　watering…place　of　the　wild　animals。

On　the　other　slope　the　whitish　trail　was　dimly　to　be　discerned　which　their　heavy　paws　had　traced　in　the　brush　　a　mysterious　path　which　made　one's　flesh　creep。　　Join　to　this　sensation　that　from　the　vague　swarming　sound　in　African　forests；　the　swishing　of　branches；　the　velvety…pads　of　roving　creatures；　the　jackal's　shrill　yelp；　and　up　in　the　sky；　two　or　three　hundred　feet　aloft；　vast　flocks　of　cranes　passing　on　with　screams　like　poor　little　children　having　their　weasands　slit。　　You　will　own　that　there　were　grounds　for　a　man　being　moved。

Tartarin　was　so；　and　even　more　than　that；　for　the　poor　fellow's　teeth　chattered；　and　on　the　cross…bar　of　his　hunting…knife；　planted　upright　in　the　bank；　as　we　repeat；　his　rifle…barrel　rattled　like　a　pair　of　castanets。　　Do　not　ask　too　much　of　a　man！　There　are　times　when　one　is　not　in　the　mood；　and；　moreover；　where　would　be　the　merit　if　heroes　were　never　afraid？

Well；　yes；　Tartarin　was　afraid；　and　all　the　time；　too；　for　the　matter　of　that。　　Nevertheless；　he　held　out　for　an　hour；　better；　for　two；　but　heroism　has　its　limits。　　Nigh　him；　in　the　dry　part　of　the　rivulet…bed；　the　Tarasconian　unexpectedly　heard　the　sound　of　steps　and　of　pebbles　rolling。　　This　time　terror　lifted　him　off　the　ground。　　He　banged　away　both　barrels　at　haphazard　into　the　night；　and　retreated　as　fast　as　his　legs　would　carry　him　to　the　marabout's　chapel…vault；　leaving　his　knife　standing　up　in　the　sand　like　a　cross　commemorative　of　the　grandest　panic　that　ever　assailed　the　soul　of　a　conqueror　of　hydras。

〃Help！　this　Way；　prance；　the　lion　is　on　me！〃

There　was　silence。　〃Prance；　prance；　are　you　there？〃

The　prince　was　not　there。　　On　the　white　moonlit　wall　of　the　fane　the　camel　alone　cast　the　queer…shaped　shadow　of　his　protuberance。　Prince　Gregory　had　cut　and　run　with　the　wallet　of　bank…notes。　　His　Highness　had　been　for　the　month　past　awaiting　this　opportunity。



VI。　Bagged　him　at　Last。


IT　was　not　until　early　on　the　morrow　of　this　adventurous　and　dramatic　eve　that　our　hero　awoke；　and　acquired　assurance　doubly　sure　that　the　prince　and　the　treasure　had　really　gone　off；　without　any　prospect　of　return。　　When　he　saw　himself　alone　in　the　little　white　tombhouse；　betrayed；　robbed；　abandoned　in　the　heart　of　savage　Algeria；　with　a　one…humped　camel　and　some　pocket…money　as　all　his　resources；　then　did　the　representative　of　Tarascon　for　the　first　time　doubt。　He　doubted　Montenegro；　friendship；　glory；　and　even　lions；　and　the　great　man　blubbered　bitterly。

Whilst　he　was　pensively　seated　on　the　sill　of　the　sanctuary；　holding　his　head　between　his　hands　and　　his　gun　between　his　legs；　with　the　camel　mooning　at　him；　the　thicket　over　the　way　was　divided；　and　the　stupor…stricken　Tartarin　saw　a　gigantic　lion　appear　not　a　dozen　paces　off。　　It　thrust　out　its　high　head　and　emitted　powerful　roars；　which　made　the　temple　walls　shake　beneath　their　votive　decorations；　and　even　the　saint's　slippers　dance　in　their　niche。

The　Tarasconian　alone　did　not　tremble。

〃At　last　you've　come！〃　he　shouted；　jumping　up　and　levelling　the　rifle。

Bang；　bang！　went　a　brace　of　shells　into　its　head。

It　was　done。　　For　a　minute；　on　the　fiery　background　of　the　Afric　sky；　there　was　a　dreadful　firework　display　of　scattered　brains；　smoking　blood；　and　tawny　hair。　　When　all　fell；　Tartarin　perceived　two　colossal　Negroes　furiously　running　towards　him；　brandishing　cudgels。　　They　were　his　two　Negro　acquaintances　of　Milianah！

Oh；　misery！

This　was　the　domesticated　lion；　the　poor　blind　beggar　of　the　Mohammed　Monastery；　whom　the　Tarasconian's　bullets　had　knocked　over。

This　time；　spite　of　Mahound；　Tartarin　escaped　neatly。　　Drunk　with　fanatical　fury；　the　two　African　collectors　would　have　surely　beaten　him　to　pulp　had　not　the　god　of　chase　and　war　sent　him　a　delivering　angel　in　the　shape　of　the　rural　constable　of　the　Orleansville　commune。　　By　a　bypath　this　garde　champetre　came　up；　his　sword　tucked　under　his　arm。

The　sight　of　the　municipal　cap　suddenly　calmed　the　Negroes'　choler。　　Peaceful　and　majestic；　the　officer　with　the　brass　badge　drew　up　a　report　on　the　affair；　ordered　the　camel　to　be　loaded　with　what　remained　of　the　king　of　beasts；　and　the　plaintiffs　as　well　as　the　delinquent　to　follow　him；　proceeding　to　Orleansville；　where　all　was　deposited　with　the　law…courts　receiver。

There　issued　a　long　and　alarming　case！

After　the　Algeria　of　the　native　tribes　which　he　had　overrun；　Tartarin　of　Tarascon　became　thence　acquainted　with　another　Algeria；　not　less　weird　and　to　be　dreaded　　the　Algeria　in　the　towns；　surcharged　with　lawyers　and　their　papers。　He　got　to　know　the　pettifogger　who　does　business　at　the　back　of　a　cafe　　the　legal　Bohemian　with　documents　reeking　of　wormwood　bitters　and　white　neckcloths　spotted　with　champoreau；　the　ushers；　the　attorneys；　all　the　locusts　of　stamped　paper；　meagre　and　famished；　who　eat　up　the　colonist　body　and　boots　　ay；　to　the　very　straps　of　them；　and　leave　him　peeled　to　the　core　like　an　Indian　cornstalk；　stripped　leaf　by　leaf。

Before　all　else　it　was　necessary　to　ascertain　whether　the　lion　had　been　killed　on　the　civil　or　the　military　territory。　　In　the　former　case　the　matter　regarded　the　Tribunal　of　Commerce；　in　the　second；　Tartarin　would　be　dealt　with　by　the　Council　of　War：　and　at　the　mere　name　the　impressionable　Tarasconian　saw　himself　shot　at　the　foot　of　the　ramparts　or　huddled　up　in　a　casemate…silo。

The　puzzle　lay　in　the　limitation　of　the　two　territories　being　very　hazy　in　Algeria。

At　length；　after　a　month's　running　about；　entanglements；　and　waiting　under　the　sun　in　the　yards　of　Arab　Departmental　offices；　it　was　established　that；　whereas　the　lion　had　been　killed　on　the　military　territory；　on　the　other　hand　Tartarin　was　in　the　civil　territory　when　he　shot。　　So　the　case　was　decided　in　the　civil　courts；　and　our　hero　was　let　off　on　paying　two　thousand　five　hundred　francs　damages；　costs　not　included。

How　could　he　pay　such　a　sum？

The　few　piashtres　escaped　from　the　prince's　sweep　had　long　since　gone　in　legal　documents　and　judicial　libations。　　The　unfortunat