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, puffing and
melting in trying to get out of his big boots in order to enter the
temples.

Betimes at nightfall, when he was returning heart-broken at not
having discovered anything at either bagnio or mosque, our man
from Tarascon, in passing mansions, would hear monotonous
songs, smothered twanging of guitars, thumping of tambourines,
and feminine laughter-peals, which would make his heart beat.