Unfortunately the title of Highness, which had so dazzled the
worthy Tarasconian, did not produce the slightest impression upon
the Chasseurs officer with whom the noble had his dispute.

"I am much the wiser!" observed the military gentleman sneeringly;
and turning to the bystanders he added: "'Prince Gregory of
Montenegro' -- who knows any such a person? Nobody!"

The indignant Tartarin took one step forward.

"Allow me. I know the prince," said he, in a very firm voice, and
with his finest Tarasconian accent.

The light cavalry officer eyed him hard for a moment, and then,
shrugging his shoulders, returned:

"Come, that is good! Just you two share the twenty francs lacking
between you, and let us talk no more on the score."

Whereupon he turned his back upon them and mixed with the
crowd. The stormy Tartarin was going to rush after him, but the
prince prevented that.

"Let him go. I can manage my own affairs."

Taking the interventionist by the arm, he drew him rapidly out of
doors. When they were upon the square, Prince Gregory of
Montenegro lifted his hat off; extended his hand to our hero, and as
he but dimly remembered his name, he began in a vibrating voice: