paraphernalia, gun-cases, medicine chest, alimentary preserves, dwelt
peacefully under cover in a corner of room 36 in the Hotel de l'Europe.

Sleep with no fear, great red lions, the Tarasconian is engaged in
looking up that Moorish charmer. Since the adventure in the omnibus,
the unfortunate swain perpetually fancied he felt the fidgeting of
that pretty red mouse upon his huge backwoods trapper's foot; and the
sea-breeze fanning his lips was ever scented, do what he would, with a
love-exciting odour of sweet cakes and patchouli.

He hungered for his indispensable light of the harem! and he meant to
behold her anew.

But it was no joke of a task. To find one certain person in a city of
a hundred thousand souls, only known by the eyes, breath, and
slipper,--none but a son of Tarascon, panoplied by love, would be
capable of attempting such an adventure.

The plague is that, under their broad white mufflers, all the Moorish
women resemble one another; besides, they do not go about much, and to
see them, a man has to climb up into the native or upper town, the city
of the "Turks," and that is a regular cut-throat's den.

Little black alleys, very narrow, climbing perpendicularly up between
mysterious house-walls, whose roofs lean to touching and form a tunnel;
low doors, and sad, silent little casements well barred and grated.
Moreover, on both hands, stacks of darksome stalls, wherein ferocious
"Turks" smoked long pipes stuck between glittering teeth in piratical
heads with white eyes, and mumbled in undertones as if hatching wicked
attacks.

To say that Tartarin traversed this grisly place without any emotion
would be putting forth falsehood. On the contrary, he was much
affected, and the stout fellow only went up the obscure lanes, where his
corporation took up all the width, with the utmost precaution, his eye
skinned, and his finger on his revolver trigger, in the same manner as
he went to the clubhouse at Tarascon. At any moment he expected to have
a whole gang of eunuchs and janissaries drop upon his back, yet the
longing to behold that dark damsel again gave him a giant's strength and
boldness.

For a full week the undaunted Tartarin never quitted the high town. Yes;
for all that period he might have been seen cooling his heels before
the Turkish bath-houses, awaiting the hour when the ladies came forth in
troops, shivering and still redolent of soap and hot water; or squatting
at the doorways of mosques,