his forehead, puffing, stopping and abruptly beginning
again when he thought he had found a new method of explaining what he
wanted to say.

"I gathered finally that he was the son of a big chief, a sort of negro
king of the region around Timbuctoo. I asked him his name. He repeated
something like 'Chavaharibouhalikranafotapolara.' It seemed simpler to me
to give him the name of his native place, 'Timbuctoo.' And a week later
he was known by no other name in the garrison.

"But we were all wildly anxious to find out where this African ex-prince
procured his drinks. I discovered it in a singular manner.

"I was on the ramparts one morning, watching the horizon, when I
perceived something moving about in a vineyard. It was near the time of
vintage, the grapes were ripe, but I was not thinking of that. I thought
that a spy was approaching the town, and I organized a complete
expedition to catch the prowler. I took command myself, after obtaining
permission from the general.

"I sent out by three different gates three little companies, which were
to meet at the suspected vineyard and form a cordon round it. In order to
cut off the spy's retreat, one of these detachments had to make at least
an hour's march. A watch on the walls signalled to me that the person I
had seen had not left the place. We went along in profound silence,
creeping, almost crawling, along the ditches. At last we reached the spot
assigned.

"I abruptly disbanded my soldiers, who darted into the vineyard and found
Timbuctoo on hands and knees travelling around among the vines and eating
grapes, or rather devouring them as a dog eats his sop, snatching them in
mouthfuls from the vine with his teeth.

"I wanted him to get up, but he could not think of it. I then understood
why he was crawling on his hands and knees. As soon as we stood him on
his feet he began to wabble, then stretched out his arms and fell down on
his nose. He was more drunk than I have ever seen anyone.

"They brought him home on two poles. He never stopped laughing all the
way back, gesticulating with his arms and legs.

"This explained the mystery. My men also drank the juice of the grapes,
and when they were so intoxicated they could not stir they went to sleep
in the vineyard. As for Timbuctoo, his love of the vineyard was beyond
all belief and all bounds. He lived in it as did the thrushes, whom he
hated with the jealous hate of a rival. He repeated incessantly: 'The
thrush