sententiously, "The same applied to your Montenegrin prince." Tartarin
looked up, "Do you know where the prince is?" he asked.

"Oh, he is not far away. He will spend the next five years in the
fine prison at Mustapha. The clown was foolish enough to be caught
stealing... and anyway this is not the first time His Highness has been
inside, he has already done three years in gaol somewhere, and... hang
on!... I believe it was in Tarascon!

"In Tarascon!" Cried Tartarin, suddenly enlightened, "that is why I never
saw him there. All he knew of Tarascon was what he could see from a cell
window."

"Hé!... without a doubt.... Ah! My poor M. Tartarin, you have to keep both
eyes wide open in this devilish country if you don't want to be taken
in. Like that business of the Muezzin."

"What business?... What Muezzin?"

"Ti!... Pardi!" The Muezzin opposite, who was courting Baia; all Algiers
knew about it. Not all the prayers he was chanting were addressed
to Allah, some were directed to the little one, and he was making
propositions under your nose. "It seems that everyone in this beastly
country is a crook", Wailed the unhappy Tartarin. Barbassou shrugged his
shoulders, "My dear fellow, you know how it is. All these sort of places
are the same. If you take my advice you will go back to Tarascon as
quickly as possible."

"That's easy to say, but what am I to do for money? Don't you know how
they robbed me out there in the desert?"