Promenade rose a murmuring sound, the bleating of a flock, which
gathered beneath the windows of the Club, left wide open in great
squares of light.

The sessions were held in the _bouillotte_ room, where the long
table covered with green cloth served as a desk. At the centre, the
presidential arm-chair, with P. C. A. embroidered on the back of it; at
one end, humbly, the armless chair of the secretary. Behind, the banner
of the Club, draped above a long glazed map in relief, on which the
Alpines stood up with their respective names and altitudes. Alpenstocks
of honour, inlaid with ivory, stacked like billiard cues, ornamented
the corners, and a glass-case displayed curiosities, crystals, silex,
petrifactions, two porcupines and a salamander, collected on the
mountains.

In Tartarin's absence, Costecalde, rejuvenated and radiant, occupied
the presidential arm-chair; the armless chair was for Excourbanies, who
fulfilled the functions of secretary; but that devil of a man, frizzled,
hairy, bearded, was incessantly in need of noise, motion, activity which
hindered his sedentary employments. At the smallest pretext, he threw
out his arms and legs, uttered fearful howls and "Ha! ha! has!" of
ferocious, exuberant joy which always ended with a war-cry in the
Tarasconese patois: "_Fen de brut_... let us make a noise "... He was
called "the gong" on account of his metallic voice, which cracked the
ears of his friends with its ceaseless explosions.

Here and there, on a horsehair divan that ran round the room were the
members of the committee.

In the first row, sat the former captain of equipment, Bravida, whom all
Tarascon called the Commander; a very small man, clean as a new penny,
who redeemed his childish figure by making himself as moustached and
savage a head as Vercingetorix.

Next came the long, hollow, sickly face of Pegoulade, the collector,
last survivor of the wreck of the "Medusa." Within the memory of man,
Tarascon has never been without a last survivor of the wreck of the
"Medusa." At one time they even numbered three, who treated one another
mutually as impostors, and never con~ sented to meet in the same room.
Of these three the only true one was Pegoulade. Setting sail with his
parents on the "Medusa," he met with the fatal disaster when six months
old,--which did not prevent him from relating the event, _de visu_,
in its smallest details, famine, boats, raft, and how he had taken the
captain, who was s