He made his way along the wide streets of Milianah, full of handsome
trees and fountains, but while he looked for a convenient hotel, he
could not prevent himself from mulling over the words of M. Bombonnel.
What if it were true... what if there were no more lions in Algeria? What
then was the point of all this travel and all these discomforts?

Suddenly at a bend in the road our hero was confronted by a remarkable
spectacle. He found himself face to face with--believe it or not--a
superb lion which was seated regally at the door of a café, Its mane
tawny in the sunshine.

"Who says there are no more lions?" Cried Tartarin, jumping back. On
hearing this exclamation the lion lowered its head, and taking in
its jaws the wooden begging bowl which lay on the pavement before it,
extended it humbly in the direction of Tartarin, who was paralyzed by
astonishment... a passing Arab tossed in a few coppers. Then Tartarin
understood. He saw what his surprise had at first prevented him from
seeing, a crowd of people which was gathered round the poor tame lion,
which was blind, and the two big negroes, armed with cudgels, who led it
about the town.

Tartarin's blood boiled. "Wretches!" He cried "To debase this noble
creature!" And running to the lion he snatched the sordid begging bowl
from the royal jaws.... The two negroes, believing they were dealing
with a thief, threw themselves on Tartarin with raised cudgels. It was
a terrible set-to. Women were screeching children laughing there were
calls for the police and the lion in its darkness joined in with a
fearsome roar. The unhappy Tartarin after a desperate struggle, rolled
on the ground among copper coins and road sweepings.