United States or Sint Maarten ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Perhaps its most famous child is Bombonnel, the great panther-slayer, born close by, who died at Dijon and whose souvenirs bequeathed to me as a legacy I have given elsewhere.
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?"
Two days of being bumped about and nights spent peering out of the window in the hope of seeing the outline of a lion in the fields lining the road, had earned a little rest; and then it must be admitted that after the misadventure over M. Bombonnel, Tartarin, in spite of his weapons, his terrible grimace and his red chechia, had not felt entirely at ease in the presence of the photographer and the two ladies of the third Hussars.
There are none left in Algeria, my friend Chassaing having lately knocked over the last." Upon which the little gentleman saluted, closed the door, and trotted away chuckling, with his document-wallet and umbrella. "Guard," asked Tartarin, screwing up his face contemptuously, "who under the sun is that poor little mannikin?" "What! don't you know him? Why, that there's Monsieur Bombonnel!"
Go where you will, I shall make one of the party." "O Prince! prince!" The beaming Tartarin hugged the devoted Gregory to his breast at the proud thought of his going to have a foreign prince to accompany him in his hunting, after the example of Jules Gerard, Bombonnel, and other famous lion-slayers. IV. The Caravan on the March.
"It seems evident after all," He said "That in spite of what M. Bombonnel said, there are still lions in Algeria." "To be sure there are," said the prince, "And tomorrow we shall begin to search the plains by the river Cheliff and you shall see." "What!... prince. Do you mean to join in the hunt yourself?"
On hearing this incredible and yet veracious story Tartarin of Tarascon was delighted, and sniffed the air noisily. "What pleases me in this," he remarked, as the summing up of his opinion, "is that, whether Monsieur Bombonnel likes it or not, there are still lions in Algeria." "I should think there were!" ejaculated the prince enthusiastically.
Besides, if we must tell everything, since his misadventure with Bombonnel, the outspoken Tartarin felt ill at ease, notwithstanding his weapons, his terrifying visage, and his red cap, before the Orleansville photographer and the two ladies fond of the military.
All the coach laughed on observing three yellow bristles standing up on the little gentleman's skull. In his turn, the Orleansville photographer struck in: "Yours must be a terrible profession, Monsieur Tartarin. You must pass some ugly moments sometimes. I have heard that poor Monsieur Bombonnel" "Oh, yes, the panther-killer," said Tartarin, rather disdainfully.
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?
Word Of The Day