blazed, and with a convulsive gesture he slapped the rifle onto his
shoulder, then turning to the brave Commandant Bravida (quartermaster.
Ret) he said in a voice of thunder, "Come, Commandant, let us go and
see this." "Excuse me. Excuse me. My new rifle." The prudent Costecalde
hazarded timidly, but Tartarin was already in the street, and behind him
all the hat hunters fell proudly into step.

When they arrived at the menagerie it was already crowded. The brave
people of Tarascon, too long deprived of sensational spectacles, had
descended on the place and taken it by storm. The big madame Mitaine
was in her element; dressed in an oriental costume, her arms bare to the
elbows and with iron bracelets round her ankles, she had a whip in one
hand and in the other a live chicken. She welcomed the Tarasconais to
the show, and as she too had "Double muscles" she aroused almost as much
interest as the animals in her charge.

The arrival of Tartarin with the rifle on his shoulder produced
something of a chill, all the bold Tarasconais who had been walking
tranquilly before the cages, unarmed, trusting, with no notion of
danger, became suddenly alarmed at the sight of the great Tartarin
entering the place, carrying this lethal weapon. There must be something
to fear if he, their hero.... In the blink of an eye the area in front of
the cages was deserted, children were crying with fright and the ladies
were eying the doorway. Bezuquet the chemist left hurridly, saying that
he was going to fetch a gun.

Little by little, however, the attitude of Tartarin restored their
courage. Calm and erect, the intrepid Tarasconais strolled round the
menagerie. He passed the seals without stopping. He cast a contemptuous
eye on the container full of noise, where the boa was swallowing its
chicken, and at last halted in front of the lion's cage.... A dramatic
confrontation.... The lion of Tarascon and the lion of the Atlas
mountains face to face.

On one side stood Tartarin, his legs planted firmly apart, his arms
resting on his rifle, on the other was the lion, a gigantic lion,
sprawling in the straw, blinking its eyes drowsily and resting its
enormous yellow-haired muzzle on its front paws... they regarded one
another calmly... then something odd happened. Perhaps it was the sight
of the rifle, perhaps it recognised an enemy of its kind, but the lion
which up until then had looked on the people of Tarascon with sovereign
disdain, yawning i