gunsmith, the President Ladevèze, the chemist and all the noble body of
hat shooters, who pressed round their chief and carried him all the way
down the steps.

How remarkable are the effects of the "mirage". The skin of the blind
lion sent to the Commandant was the cause of all this tumult. At the
sight of this modest trophy, displayed at the club, Tarascon and beyond
Tarascon the whole of the Midi had worked themselves into a state of
excitement. "The Semaphore" had spoken. A complete scenario had been
invented. This was no longer one lion killed by Tartarin, it was ten
lions, twenty lions, a whole troop of lions. So Tartarin, when he
reached Marseilles was already famous, and an enthusiastic telegram had
warned his home town of his imminent arrival.

The excitement of the populace reached its peak when a fantastic animal,
covered in dust and sweat, stumbled down the station steps behind our
hero. For a moment they thought that the Tarasque had returned.

Tartarin reassured his fellow citizens, "It is my camel" He said, and
already under the influence of the Tarascon sun, that fine sun which
induces fanciful exaggeration, he stroked the camel's hump and added,
"It is a noble creature, it saw me kill all my lions." So saying,
he took the arm of the Commandant, who was blushing with pride, and
followed by his camel, surrounded by hat shooters and acclaimed by the
people, he proceeded peacefully toward the little house of the baobab;
and as he walked along he began the story of his great expedition.

"There was one particular evening," He said, "When I was out in the
heart of the Sahara..."