oud, beneath the roses, without once turning round... Gabbler!..
not one word more, but the intonation was so contemptuous that the
worthy Tartarin blushed beneath his beard, and looked about to see if
they had been quite alone in the garden so that no one had overheard
her.

Among our Tarasconese, fortunately, impressions do not last long. Five
minutes later Tartarin was going up the terraces of Montreux with a
lively step in quest of the Pension Mueller and his Alpinists, who must
certainly be waiting breakfast for him; and his whole person breathed a
relief, a joy at getting rid finally of that dangerous acquaintance.
As he walked along he emphasized with many energetic nods the eloquent
explanations which Sonia would not wait to hear, but which he gave to
himself mentally: _Be!_.. yes, despotism certainly... He didn't deny
that... but from that to action, _boufre!_.. And then, to make it his
profession to shoot despots!.. Why, if all oppressed peoples applied to
him--just as the Arabs did to Bombonnel whenever a panther roamed round
their village--he couldn't suffice for them all, never!

At this moment a hired carriage coming down the hill at full speed cut
short his monologue. He had scarcely time to jump upon the sidewalk with
a "Take care, you brute!" when his cry of anger was changed to one of
stupefaction: "_Ques aco!.. Boudiou!_.. Not possible!.."

I give you a thousand guesses to say what he saw in that old landau...

The delegation! the full delegation, Bravida, Pascalon, Excourbanies,
piled upon the back seat, pale, horror-stricken, ghastly, and two
gendarmes in front of them, muskets in hand! The sight of all those
profiles, motionless and mute, visible through the narrow frame of the
carriage window, was like a nightmare. Nailed to the ground, as
formerly on the ice by his Kennedy crampons, Tartarin was gazing at that
fantastic vehicle flying along at a gallop, followed at full speed by a
flock of schoolboys, their atlases swinging on their backs, when a
voice shouted in his ears: "And here's the fourth!.." At the same time
clutched, garotted, bound, he, too, was hoisted into a _locati_ with
gendarmes, among them an officer armed with a gigantic cavalry sabre,
which he held straight up from between his knees, the point of it
touching the roof of the vehicle.

Tartarin wanted to speak, to explain. Evidently there must be some
mistake... He told his name, his nation, demanded his consul, and
named a s