"Voulez-vous une voiture, Mesdames, pour voir la ville? l'Église de Ste. Marthe, le Château du Roi René, la tarasque, et Beaucaire; tout dans une heure et quart, ou vingt minutes sans Beaucaire."
We made this classic round on our first visit, including Beaucaire, and a wonderful circlet of picturesque mediævalism it is; but afterwards we preferred to find our own way; to wander through the great stone gate on the left and glance or saunter down dozens of alluring byways, where one would come upon fine old doors, carved lintels, canopies, shrines at the street corners, flowers on the window-sills, the quick perspective of street line dark against the sky, and everywhere the sharp lights and shadows of the south.
Sometimes, indeed, we would take a drive if only to please the good-natured "_Tartarins_" who drove the carriages. Their black eyes and bronzed skin were very impressive at first, but when the effect of these had begun to wear off, we realised that close resemblance to the tenor of an opera did not involve anything dramatic in type of character. They were quiet, industrious, polite fellows, earning their meagre living by a somewhat precarious industry. But of that presently.
Our particular Tartarin was somewhat shocked that we had not yet seen the tarasque, so there was nothing for it but to set forth in quest of the monster.
There is in the museum at Avignon a strange, uncanny beast carved in stone which is called the tarasque, but the effigy that is, or used to be, carried round the town at Tarascon is quite a young and giddy creature, built of painted wood, and passes its existence during the intervals of public function in a sort of large stable which is kept under lock and key.
We were driven solemnly through the narrow streets, till at length the fly drew up and we alighted at a stately portal, where, after a few moments of waiting, the custodian appeared with his keys, and then back the doors scrooped on their hinges.
Laughter was out of keeping with the occasion; our poor _cocher_ would have been cut to the heart, but it was hard work to behave decorously. Out of an old-Dutch-master gloom of background loomed forth a grotesquely terrible monster, whose proper sphere was certainly the pantomime. Enormous red-rimmed eyes stared ferociously at the intruders from a round, cat-like face rayed with bristling white whiskers. There was also a touch of hippopotamus in the cast of countenance, only it lacked the sweeter expression of that more philosophic beast. The creature had evidently had a new coat of paint--black with red facings--for the huge body was beautifully glossy.