As he went about through the crowd, thinking of his Moor, suddenly, at
one of the gaming tables, above the cries and the chinking of coins, two
angry voices were raised. "I tell you, there are twenty francs of mine
missing, m'sieu!" "M'sieu!!!" "Well, what have you to say, m'sieu?" "Do
you know to whom you are talking, m'sieu?" "I should be delighted to
find out, m'sieu!" "I am prince Gregory of Montenegro, m'sieu!"

At this name, Tartarin, much moved, pushed through the crowd until he
reached the front row, delighted to have found once more his prince, the
distinguished Montenegrin nobleman whose acquaintance he had made on the
packet-boat.

Unfortunately this title of prince which had so dazzled the worthy
Tarasconais, did not produce the least impression on the officer of the
Chasseurs with whom the prince was in dispute. "A likely story" said the
officer with a sneer, and then turning to the onlookers, "Prince
Gregory of Montenegro, who has ever heard of him?... No one!" Tartarin,
indignant, took a pace forward. "Pardon... I know the prince." He said
firmly in his best Tarrascon accent.

The officer of the Chasseurs stared him in the face for a few moments,
then shrugging his shoulders, he said "Well now, is'nt that just
fine?... Share out the twenty francs between you and we'll leave it at
that." So saying he turned on his heel and was lost in the crowd.

Tartarin, furious, wanted to go after him, but the prince prevented him.
"Leave it... It's my affair." He said, and taking Tartarin by the arm he
led him outside.