clove of garlic, a pinch of thyme, and a sprig of laurel. Strict diet,
at which you may believe poor Sancho made a wry face.

To the regimen of water broth Tartarin of Tarascon joined other
wise practices. To break himself into the habit of long marches, he
constrained himself to go round the town seven or eight times
consecutively every morning, either at the fast walk or run, his
elbows well set against his body, and a couple of white pebbles in
the mouth, according to the antique usage.

To get inured to fog, dew, and night coolness, he would go down
into his garden every dusk, and stop out there till ten or eleven,
alone with his gun, on the lookout, behind the baobab.

Finally, so long as Mitaine's wild beast show tarried in Tarascon,
the cap-poppers who were belated at Costecalde's might spy in the
shadow of the booth, as they crossed the Castle-green, a mysterious
figure stalking up and down. It was Tartarin of Tarascon,
habituating himself to hear without emotion the roarings of the lion
in the sombre night.



X.
Before the Start.


PENDING Tartarin's delay of the event by all sorts of heroic
means, all Tarascon kept an eye upon him, and nothing else was
busied about. Cap-popping was winged, and ballad-singing dead.