o take such trouble." And the trusting fellow
held out his purse to the obliging Montenegrin, exhorting him to neglect
nothing which might make the lady happy.

Unfortunately, the affair which had started so well, did not progress as
rapidly as one might have wished. Very touched, it seemed, by Tartarin's
eloquence, and already three parts won over, she would have liked
nothing better than to have received him, but her brother had scruples,
and to lay these to rest it was necessary to buy an astonishing number
of pipes. Sometimes Tartarin wondered what on earth the lady did with
them all, but he paid up nevertheless, and without stinting.

At last, after the purchase of many pipes and the composing of many
sheets of oriental prose, a rendezvous was arranged. I need hardly tell
you with what fluttering of heart Tartarin prepared himself; with what
care he trimmed, washed and scented his beard, without forgetting--for
one must always be prepared--to slip into his pockets a life-preserver
and a revolver. The ever-obliging prince attended this first meeting in
the role of interpreter

The lady lived in the upper part of the town. Outside her door lounged a
young Moor of fourteen or fifteen, smoking a cigarette, it was Ali, her
brother. When the two visitors arrived he knocked twice on the postern
and retired from the scene. The door was opened and a negress appeared,
who, without saying a word, conducted the two gentlemen across a narrow
interior courtyard to a small, cool room where the lady awaited them,
posed on a divan.

At first glance it seemed to Tartarin that she was smaller and sturdier
than the Moor on the omnibus... were they in fact the same? But this
suspicion was only momentary: the lady was so pretty, with her bare
feet and her plump fingers, rosy and delicate, loaded with rings; while
beneath her bodice of gold cloth and the blossoms of her flowered robe
was the suggestion of a charming form, a little chubby, dainty and
curvaceous. The amber mouthpiece of a narghile was between her lips and
she was enveloped in a cloud of pale smoke.

On entering, Tartarin placed his hand on his heart and bowed in the most
Moorish manner possible, rolling big, passionate eyes... Baia looked
at him for a moment without speaking, then letting go of the amber
mouthpiece, she turned her back, hid her face in her hands and one could
see only her neck, shaken by uncontrollable laughter.

Chapter 22.

If you go in the