This reply from the little gentleman annoyed Tartarin, "Do you suppose
that I would go after lions with an umbrella?" Asked the great man
proudly. The little gentleman looked at his umbrella, smiled and
and asked calmly, "You monsieur are...?" "Tartarin de Tarascon, lion
hunter." And in pronouncing these words the brave Tartarin shook the
tassel of his chechia as if it were a mane.

In the coach there was a startled response. The Trappist crossed
himself, the Cocottes uttered little squeaks of excitement and the
photographer edged closer to the lion killer, thinking that he might be
a good subject for a picture. The little gentleman was not in the least
disturbed. "Have you killed many lions, Monsieur Tartarin?" He asked
quietly. Tartarin adopted a lofty air, "Yes many of them. More than you
have hairs on your head." And all the passengers laughed at the sight
of the three or four yellow hairs which sprouted from the little
gentleman's scalp.

The photographer then spoke up, "A terrible profession yours, Monsieur
Tartarin, you must have moments of danger sometimes like that brave
M. Bombonnel." "Ah!... yes... M. Bombonnel, the man who hunts panthers."
Said Tartarin, with some disdain. "Do you know him?" Asked the little
gentleman. "Ti!... Pardi!... To be sure I know him, we have hunted
together more than twenty times." "You hunt panthers also M. Tartarin?"
"Occasionally, as a pastime." Said Tartarin casually, and raising his
head with a heroic gesture which went straight to the hearts of the two
Cocottes, he added "They cannot be compared to lions." "One could say,"
Hazarded the photographer, "That a panther is no more than a large
pussy-cat." "Quite right." Said Tartarin, who was not reluctant to lower
the reputation of this M. Bombonnel, particularly in front of the ladies.