At that moment they reached the tavern, a wayside pot house, the sort of
thing one can see by any main road. It had a very faded sign above the
door, some billiard cues painted on the wall and the inoffensive name
"Au rendezvous des lapins".




Chapter 18.

This first adventure would have been enough to discourage many people,
but seasoned characters such as Tartarin are not so easily disheartened.
The lions are in the south, thought our hero, very well I shall go to
the south.

As soon as he had swallowed his last morsel, he got up, thanked his
host, took leave of the old lady without any ill-feeling, shed a last
tear over the unfortunate Noiraud and headed quickly for Algiers, with
the firm intention of packing his trunks and departing that same day for
the south.

Sadly, the main Mustapha road seemed to have grown longer during the
night. There was so much sunshine, so much dust, the bivouac tent was
so heavy, that Tartarin could not face the walk back to the town and
he hailed the first horse-drawn omnibus which came along and climbed
in.... Poor Tartarin! How much better it would have been for his
reputation if he had not entered that fateful vehicle, and had continued
his journey on foot, even at the risk of collapsing from the heat and
the weight of his two double-barreled rifles and the bivouac tent.