After a moment of silence, madame Bezuquet the elder, accompanying herself on the piano, began:
“Robert, thou whom I adore
And in whom I trust,
You see my fear (twice)
Have mercy on yourself
And mercy on me.”
She added, sotto voce, “Its you now Tartarin.”
Then Tartarin, with arm extended, clenched fist and quivering nostrils, said three times in a formidable voice which rolled like a clap of thunder in the entrails of the piano “Non! Non! Non!” Which as a good southerner he pronounced “Nan. Nan. Nan” Upon which madame Bezuquet repeated “Mercy on yourself and on me” “Nan! Nan! Nan!” Bellowed Tartarin even more loudly... and the matter ended there.... It was not very long, but it was so well presented, so well acted, so diabolic that a frisson ran round the pharmacy and he was made to repeat his “Nan. Nan. Nan.” four or five times.
Afterwards Tartarin wiped his forehead, smiled at the ladies, winked at the men and went off triumphantly to the club, where, with a casual air, he would say, “I’ve just come from the Bezuquets. They had me singing in the duet from Robert le Diable.” What is more he believed it.