"And where do _I_ come in?" the aunt might have inquired, but she never did. On the contrary, she started the chorus and shed the signal-tear, so that little Tartarin and Antoinette evidently had a splendid time of it.
And was the truant mother still living? Yes, she had a little property, a little house at Arles where she passed her days. And now and then Tartarin and his sister went to see her. The mother was glad to welcome them, and, as far as I could gather, she was fond of Tartarin, not exactly as a son, but as a good fellow whose _bonhomie_ and urbane philosophy appealed to her. It was a curious story, and a most unexpected one in this out of the way city of the south.
The drive had taken about a couple of hours, time well spent, apart from the charm of the country we had passed through, for a human life, in its emotions as well as in its events, had been unrolled before me.
And strangely pathetic it was; the life of this good-hearted, disillusioned, unembittered philosopher, who, with a sort of sad cheerfulness, waited in fair weather and foul under the plane-trees in the main street, trying to tempt the tourist to take the round of the sights--preferably the whole round, but if that piece of good-luck failed him, then "_sans Beaucaire_."
Yes, sometimes his heart was a little heavy; he was more or less dependent on his employer, he was solitary though he had many good comrades among the people of his native town. But he was spared anxiety in that his risks were his own and his alone; but he had no one to live for, no one to care for. A wife, as he had before declared, he would not have; _la misère à deux_ was not the route to happiness; and in his case _la famille_ had not proved comforting. Often when he went back to Bottin's after the day's work, he felt a sinking of the heart, for, after all, was it a life, this? But "_enfin, que voulez-vous?_" He was better off than many a poor devil, and so he said to himself: "_Raphael_" (for that was poor Tartarin's real name), "_Raphael, mon vieux, tu es donc un imbécile_."
And that usually restored him to a more satisfactory frame of mind; though there were times when even this rousing adjuration lost its efficacy. At these moments the gloom would last the night and pursue him when he went to his work next morning, and he would feel as if he could endure the empty monotony no longer.