The steps draw nearer, the voices more distinct...

there can be no doubt..."They" are here.

With heaving breast and eyes ablaze Tartarin is gathering himself like a jaguar and preparing to leap on his foes, when suddenly out of the gloom a good Tarasconais voice calls "Look! There's Tartarin! Hulloa there Tartarin!" Malediction! It is Bezuquet the chemist and his family who have been singing their ballad at the Costecaldes.

"Bon soir, bon soir" growls Tartarin, furious at his mistake, and shouldering his cane he disappears angrily into the night.
Arrived at the club the fearless Tarasconais waits a little longer, walking up and down in front of the door before entering.

In the end, tired of waiting for "them" and certain that they will not show themselves, he throws a last look of defiance into the dark and mutters crossly "Nothing...