"Marco la Bella!" repeated the indignant Tartarin. "I'll have you to
know, captain, that the person you mention is an honourable
Moorish lady, and one who does not know a word of French."

"Baya does not know French! What lunatic asylum do you hail
from, then?"

The good captain broke into still heartier laughter; but, seeing the
chops of poor Sidi Tart'ri fall he changed his course.

"Howsoever, may happen it is not the same lass. Let's reckon that I
have mixed 'em up. Still, mark you, Monsieur Tartarin, you will do
well, nonetheless, to distrust Algerian Moors and Montenegrin
princes."

Tartarin rose in the stirrups, making a wry face.

"The prince is my friend, captain."

"Come, come, don't wax wrathy. Won't you have some bitters to
sweeten you? No? Haven't you anything to say to the folks at
home, neither? Well, then, a pleasant journey. By the way, mate, I
have some good French 'bacco upon me, and if you would like to
carry away a few pipefuls, you have only to take some. Take it,
won't you? It's your beastly Oriental 'baccoes that have befogged
your brain."

Upon this the captain went back to his absinthe, whilst the moody
Tartarin trotted slowly on the road to his little house. Although his