tartarin of tarascon-第4部分

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st　novelty。　　The　door　suddenly　flew　open；　and　in　rushed　a　bewildered　cap…popper；　howling　〃A　lion；　a　lion　！〃　General　was　the　alarm；　stupor；　uproar　and　tumult。　Tartarin　prepared　to　resist　cavalry　with　the　bayonet；　whilst　Costecalde　ran　to　shut　the　door。　The　sportsman　was　surrounded　and　pressed　and　questioned；　and　here　follows　what　he　told　them：　Mitaine's　Menagerie；　returning　from　Beaucaire　Fair；　had　consented　to　stay　over　a　few　days　at　Tarascon；　and　was　just　unpacking；　to　set　up　the　show　on　the　Castle…green；　with　a　lot　of　boas；　seals；　crocodiles；　and　a　magnificent　lion　from　the　Atlas　Mountains。

An　African　lion　in　Tarascon？

Never　in　the　memory　of　living　man　had　the　like　been　seen。　　Hence　our　dauntless　cap…poppers　looked　at　one　another　how　proudly　！　What　a　beaming　on　their　sunburned　visages！　and　in　every　nook　of　Costecalde's　shop　what　hearty　congratulatory　grips　of　the　hand　were　silently　exchanged！　　The　sensation　was　so　great　and　unforeseen　that　nobody　could　find　a　word　to　say…not　even　Tartarin。

Blanched　and　agitated；　with　the　needle…gun　still　in　his　fist；　he　brooded；　erect　before　the　counter。　A　lion　from　the　Atlas　Range　at　pistol　range　from　him；　a　couple　of　strides　off？　a　lion；　mind　youthe　beast　heroic　and　ferocious　above　all　others；　the　King　of　the　Brute　Creation；　the　crowning　game　of　his　fancies；　something　like　the　leading　actor　in　the　ideal　company　which　played　such　splendid　tragedies　in　his　mind's　eye。　　A　lion；　heaven　be　thanked！　and　from　the　Atlas；　to　boot！　It　was　more　than　the　great　Tartarin　could　bear。

Suddenly　a　flush　of　blood　flew　into　his　face。　His　eyes　flashed。　With　one　convulsive　movement　he　shouldered　the　needle…gun；　and　turning　towards　the　brave　Commandant　Bravida　（formerly　captain　in　the　Army　Clothing　Department；　please　to　remember）；　he　thundered　to　him　

〃Let's　go　have　a　look　at　him；　commandant。〃

〃Here；　here；　I　say！　that's　my　gun　　my　needle…gun　you　are　carrying　off；〃　timidly　ventured　the　wary　Costecalde；　but　Tartarin　had　already　got　round　the　corner；　with　all　the　cap…poppers　proudly　lock…　stepping　behind　him。

When　they　arrived　at　the　menagerie；　they　found　a　goodly　number　of　people　there。　Tarascon；　heroic　but　too　long　deprived　of　sensational　shows；　had　rushed　upon　Mitaine's　portable　theatre；　and　bad　taken　it　by　storm。　Hence　the　voluminous　Madame　Mitaine　was　highly　contented。　　In　an　Arab　costume；　her　arms　bare　to　the　elbow；　iron　anklets　on；　a　whip　in　one　hand　and　a　plucked　though　live　pullet　in　the　other；　the　noted　lady　was　doing　the　honours　of　the　booth　to　the　Tarasconians；　and；　as　she　also　had　〃double　muscles；〃　her　success　was　almost　as　great　as　her　animals。

The　entrance　of　Tartarin　with　the　gun　on　his　shoulder　was　a　damper。

All　our　good　Tarasconians；　who　had　been　quite　tranquilly　strolling　before　the　cages；　unarmed　and　with　no　distrust；　without　even　any　idea　of　danger；　felt　momentary　apprehension；　naturally　enough；　on　beholding　their　mighty　Tartarin　rush　into　the　enclosure　with　his　formidable　engine　of　war。　　There　must　be　something　to　fear　when　a　hero　like　he　was；　came　weaponed；　so；　in　a　twinkling；　all　the　space　along　the　cage　fronts　was　cleared。　The　youngsters　burst　out　squalling　for　fear；　and　the　women　looked　round　for　the　nearest　way　out。　　The　chemist　Bezuquet　made　off　altogether；　alleging　that　he　was　going　home　for　his　gun。

Gradually；　however；　Tartarin's　bearing　restored　courage。　With　head　erect；　the　intrepid　Tarasconian　slowly　and　calmly　made　the　circuit　of　the　booth；　passing　the　seal's　tank　without　stopping；　glancing　disdainfully　on　the　long　box　filled　with　sawdust　in　which　the　boa　would　digest　its　raw　fowl；　and　going　to　take　his　stand　before　the　lion's　cage。

A　terrible　and　solemn　confrontation；　this！　The　lion　of　Tarascon　and　the　lion　of　Africa　face　to　face！

On　the　one　part；　Tartarin　erect；　with　his　hamstrings　in　tension；　and　his　arms　folded　on　his　gun　barrel；　on　the　other；　the　lion；　a　gigantic　specimen；　humped　up　in　the　straw；　with　blinking　orbs　and　brutish　mien；　resting　his　huge　muzzle　and　tawny　full…bottomed　wig　on　his　forepaws。　　Both　calm　in　their　gaze。

Singular　thing！　whether　the　needle…gun　had　given　him　〃　the　needle；〃　if　the　popular　idiom　is　admissible；　or　that　he　scented　an　enemy　of　his　race；　the　lion；　who　had　hitherto　regarded　the　Tarasconians　with　sovereign　scorn；　and　yawned　in　their　faces；　was　all　at　once　affected　by　ire。　　At　first　he　sniffed；　then　he　growled　hollowly；　stretching　out　his　claws；　rising；　he　tossed　his　head。；　shook　his　mane；　opened　a　capacious　maw；　and　belched　a　deafening　roar　at　Tartarin。

A　yell　of　fright　responded；　as　Tarascon　precipitated　itself　madly　towards　the　exit；　women　and　children；　lightermen；　cap…poppers；　even　the　brave　Commandant　Bravida　himself。　But；　alone；　Tartarin　of　Tarascon　had　not　budged。　　There　he　stood；　firm　and　resolute；　before　the　cage；　lightnings　in　his　eyes；　and　on　his　lip　that　gruesome　grin　with　which　all　the　town　was　familiar。　　In　a　moment's　time；　when　all　the　cap…poppers；　some　little　fortified　by　his　hearing　and　the　strength　of　the　bars；　re…approached　their　leader；　they　heard　him　mutter；　as　he　stared　Leo　out　of　countenance　：

〃Now；　this　is　something　like　a　hunt！〃

All　the　rest　of　that　day；　never　a　word　farther　could　they　draw　from　Tartarin　of　Tarascon。



IX。　Singular　effects　of　Mental　Mirage。


CONFINING　his　remarks　to　the　sentence　last　recorded；　Tartarin　had　unfortunately　still　said　overmuch。

On　the　morrow；　there　was　nothing　talked　about　through　town　but　the　near…at…hand　departure　of　Tartarin　for　Algeria　and　lion…hunting。　You　are　all　witness；　dear　readers；　that　the　honest　fellow　had　not　breathed　a　word　on　that　head；　but；　you　know；　the　mirage　had　its　usual　effect。　　In　brief；　all　Tarascon　spoke　of　nothing　but　the　departure。

On　the　Old　Walk；　at　the　club；　in　Costecalde's；　friends　accosted　one　another　with　a　startled　aspect：

〃And　furthermore；　you　know　the　news；　at　least？　〃

〃And　furthermore；　rather？　Tartarin's　setting　out；　at　least？〃

For　at　Tarascon　all　phrases　begin　with　〃and　furthermore；〃　and　conclude　with　〃at　least；〃　with　a　strong　local　accent　　Hence；　on　this　occasion　more　than　upon　others；　these　peculiarities　rang　out　till　the　windows　shivered。

The　most　surprised　of　men　in　the　town　on　hearing　that　Tartarin　was　going　away　to　Africa；　was　Tartarin　himself；　　But　only　see　what　vanity　is！　　Instead　of　plumply　answering　that　he　was　not　going　at　all；　and　had　not　even　had　the　intention；　poor　Tartarin；　on　the　first　of　them　mentioning　the　journey　to　him；　observed　with　a　neat　little　evasive　air；　〃Aha！　maybe　I　shall　　but　I　do　not　say　as　much。〃　The　second　time；　a　trifle　more　familiarised　with　the　idea；　he　replied；　〃Very　likely；〃　and　the　third　time；　〃It's　certain。〃

Finally；　in　the　evening；　at　Costecalde's　and　the　club；　carried　away　by　the　egg…nogg；　cheers；　and　illumination；　intoxicated　by　the　impression　that　bare　announcement　of　his　departure　had　made　on　the　town；　the　hapless　fellow　formally　declared　that　he　was　sick　of　banging　away　at　caps；　and　that　he　would　shortly　be　on　the　trail　of　the　great　lions　of　the　Atlas。　A　deafening　hurrah　greeted　this　assertion。　Whereupon　more　egg…nogg；　bravoes；　handshaking；　slappings　of　the　shoulder；　and　a　torchlight　serenade　up　to　midnight　before　Baobab　Villa。

It　was　Sancho…Tartarin　who　was　anything　but　delighted。　　This　idea　of　travel　in　Africa　and　lion…hunting　made　him　shudder　before…hand；　and　when　the　house　was　re…entered；　and　whilst　the　complimentary　concert　was　sounding　under　the　windows；　be　bad　a　dreadful　〃row〃　with　Quixote…Tartarin；　calling　him　a　cracked　head；　a　visionary；　imprudent；　and　thrice　an　idiot；　and　detailing　by　the　card　all　the　catastrophes　awaiting　him　on　such　an　expedition　　shipwreck；　rheumatism；　yellow　fever；　dysentery；　the　black　plague；　elephantiasis；　and　the　rest　of　them。

In　vain　did　Quixote…Tartarin　vow　that　he　had　not　committed　any　imprudence　　that　he　would　wrap　himself　up　well；　and　take　even　superfluous　necessaries　with　him。　　Sancho…Tartarin　would　listen　to　nothing。　　The　poor　craven　saw　himself　already　torn　to　tatters　by　the　lions；　or　engulfed　in　the　desert　sands　like　his　late　royal　highness　Cambyses；　and　the　other　Tartarin　only　managed　to　appease　him　a　little　by　explaining　that　the　start　was　not　immediate；　as　nothing　pressed。

It　is　clear　enough；　indeed；　that　none　embark　on　such　an　enterprise　without　some　preparations。　　A　man　is　bound　to　know　whither　he　goes；　hang　it　all！　and　not　fly　off　like　a　bird。　Before　anything　else；　the　Tarasconian　wanted　to　peruse　the　accounts　of　great　African　tourists；　the　narrations　of　Mungo　Park；　Du　Chaillu；　Dr。　Livingstone；　Stanley；　and　so　on。

In　them；　he　learnt　that　these　daring　explorers；　before　donning　their　sandals　for　distant　excursions；　hardened　themselves　well　beforehand　to　support　hunger　and　thirst；　forced　marches；　and　all　kinds　of　privation。　Tartarin　meant　to　act　like　they　did；　and　from　that　day　forward　he　lived　upon　water　broth　alone。　The　water　broth　of　Tarascon　is　a　few　slices　of　bread　drowned　in　hot　water；　with　a　clove　of　garlic；　a　pinch　of　thyme；　and　a　sprig　of　laurel。　　Strict　diet；　at　which　you　may　believe　poor　Sancho　made　a　wry　face。

To　the　regimen　of　water　broth　Tartarin　of　Tarascon　joined　other　wise　practices。　　To　break　himself　into　the　habit　of　long　marches；　he　constrained　himself　to　go　round　the　town　seven　or　eight　times　consecutively　every　morning；　either　at　the　fast　walk　or　run；　his　elbows　well　set　against　his　body；　and　a　couple　of　white　pebbles　in　the　mouth；　according　to　the　antique　usage。

To　get　inured　to　fog；　dew；　and　night　coolness；　be　would　go　down　into　his　garden　every　dusk；　and　stop　out　there　till　ten　or　eleven；　alone　with　his　gun；　on　the　lookout；　behind　the　baobab。

Finally；　so　long　as　Mitaine's　wild　beast　show　tarried　in　Tarascon；　the　cap…poppers　who　were　belated　at　Costecalde's　might　spy　in　the　shadow　of　the　booth；　as　they　crossed　the　Castle…green；　a　mysterious　figure　stalking　up　and　down。　　It　was　Tartarin　of　Tarascon；　habituating　himself　to　hear　without　emotion　the　roarings　of　the　lion　in　the　sombre　night。



X。　Before　the　Start。


PENDING　Tartarin's　delay　of　the　event　by　all　sorts　of　heroic　means；　all　Tarascon　kept　an　eye　upon　him；　and　nothing　else　was　busied　about。　　Cap…popping　was　winged；　and　ballad…singing　dead。　The　piano　in　Bezuquet's　shop　mouldered　away　under　a　green　fung