ch shoulder, a hunting
knife stuck into the sash round his middle, a cartridge-bag slung on
one side and a revolver in a leather holster on the other. That was
it. Ah!... forgive me... I forgot the sun-glasses, a huge pair of blue
sun-glasses which were just the very thing to correct any suggestion of
extravagance in his turnout.

"Vive Tartarin!... Vive Tartarin!" Yelled the people. The great man
smiled but did not wave, partly because of the rifles, which were giving
him some trouble and partly because he had learned what little value one
can place on popular favour. Perhaps even, in the depths of his soul, he
cursed these terrible compatriots who were forcing him to leave, to quit
his pretty little house with its green shutters and white walls, but if
so he did not show it. Calm and proud, though a little pale, he marched
down the pathway, inspected his handcarts and seeing that all was in
order set off jauntily on the road to the station, without looking back
even once at the house of the baobab.

On his arrival at the station he was greeted by the station-master,
a former soldier, who shook him warmly by the hand several times. The
Paris-Marseille express had not yet arrived, so Tartarin and his general
staff went into the waiting-room. To keep back the following crowd the
station-master closed the barriers.

For fifteen minutes Tartarin paced back and forward, surrounded by the
hat shooters. He spoke to them of his coming expedition, promising to
send them skins, and entering their orders in his note-book as if they
were a list of groceries. As tranquil as was Socrates at the moment
when he drank the hemlock, the bold Tartarin had a word for everyone.
He spoke simply and affably, as if before departing he wished to leave
behind a legacy of charm, happy memories and regrets. To hear their
chief speak thus brought tears to the eyes of the hat shooters, and to
some, such as the president Ladeveze and the chemist Bezuquet, even a
twinge of remorse. Some of the station staff were dabbing their eyes in
corners, while outside the crowd peered through the railings and shouted
"Vive Tartarin!"

Then a bell rang. There was a rumbling noise of wheels. A piercing
whistle split the heavens... All aboard!... All aboard!... Goodbye
Tartarin!... Goodbye Tartarin!. "Goodbye everyone" murmured the great
man, and on the cheeks of the brave Commandant Bravida he planted a
farewell salute to his beloved Tarascon. Then he hurried a