had told him, he was only half at ease as regarded the intention of
these ebony-skinned porters, who so little resembled their honest
mates of Tarascon.

Five minutes afterwards the skiff landed Tartarin, and he set foot
upon the little Barbary wharf, where, three hundred years before, a
Spanish galley-slave yclept Miguel Cervantes devised, under the
cane of the Algerian taskmaster, a sublime romance which was to
bear the title of "Don Quixote."



III.
An Invocation to Cervantes -- The Disembarkation -- Where
are the Turks? -- Not a sign of them -- Disenchantment


O MIGUEL CERVANTES SAAVEDRA, if what is asserted be
true, to wit, that wherever great men have dwelt some emanation of
their spirits wanderingly hovers until the end of ages, then what
remained of your essence on the Barbary coast must have quivered
with glee on beholding Tartarin of Tarascon disembark, that
marvellous type of the French Southerner, in whom was embodied
both heroes of your work, Don Quixote and Sancho Panza.

The air was sultry on this occasion. On the wharf, ablaze with
sunshine, were half a dozen revenue officers, some Algerians
expecting news from France, several squatting Moors who drew at
long pipes, and some Maltese mariners dragging large nets,
between the meshes of which thousands of sardines glittered like