et up
the show on the Castle-green, with a lot of boas, seals, crocodiles, and
a magnificent lion from the Atlas Mountains.

An African lion in Tarascon?

Never in the memory of living man had the like been seen. Hence our
dauntless cap-poppers looked at one another how proudly! What a beaming
on their sunburned visages! and in every nook of Costecalde's shop what
hearty congratulatory grips of the hand were silently exchanged! The
sensation was so great and unforeseen that nobody could find a word to
say--not even Tartarin.

Blanched and agitated, with the needle-gun still in his fist, he
brooded, erect before the counter. A lion from the Atlas Range at pistol
range from him, a couple of strides off? a lion, mind you--the beast
heroic and ferocious above all others, the King of the Brute Creation,
the crowning game of his fancies, something like the leading actor in
the ideal company which played such splendid tragedies in his mind's
eye. A lion, heaven be thanked! and from the Atlas, to boot! It was more
than the great Tartarin could bear.

Suddenly a flush of blood flew into his face. His eyes flashed. With one
convulsive movement he shouldered the needle-gun, and turning towards
the brave Commandant Bravida (formerly captain in the Army Clothing
Department, please to remember), he thundered to him--

"Let's go have a look at him, commandant."

"Here, here, I say! that's my gun--my needle-gun you are carrying off,"
timidly ventured the wary Costecalde; but Tartarin had already got round
the corner, with all the cap-poppers proudly lock-stepping behind him.

When they arrived at the menagerie, they found a goodly number of people
there. Tarascon, heroic but too long deprived of sensational shows, had
rushed upon Mitaine's portable theatre, and had taken it by storm. Hence
the voluminous Madame Mitaine was highly contented. In an Arab costume,
her arms bare to the elbow, iron anklets on, a whip in one hand and a
plucked though live pullet in the other, the noted lady was doing the
honours of the booth to the Tarasconians; and, as she also had "double
muscles," her success was almost as great as her animals.

The entrance of Tartarin with the gun on his shoulder was a damper.

All our good Tarasconians, who had been quite tranquilly strolling
before the cages, unarmed and with no distrust, without even any idea
of danger, felt momentary apprehension, naturally enough, on beholding
their mighty Tartarin rush in