club rather than join in a sing-song round a Nimes piano, between two
Tarascon candles. He felt that musical evenings were a little beneath
him.

Sometimes, however, when there was music at Bezuquet the chemists,
he would drop in as if by chance, and after much persuasion he would
consent to take part in the great duet from "Robert le Diable" with
madame Bezuquet the elder.

Anyone who has not heard this has heard nothing. For my part, if I live
to be a hundred, I shall always recall the great Tartarin approaching
the piano with solemn steps, leaning his elbow upon it, making his
grimace and in the greenish light reflected from the chemist's jars,
trying to give his homely face the savage and satanic expression of
Robert le Diable.

As soon as he had taken up his position, a quiver of expectation ran
through the gathering. One felt that something great was about to
happen.

After a moment of silence, madame Bezuquet the elder, accompanying
herself on the piano, began:

"Robert, thou whom I adore

And in whom I trust,

You see my fear (twice)

Have mercy on yourself