The Travelling Companions: A Story in Scenes

Culch. (grimly). "Figuratively" is a distinct concession on Ruskin's part. Still, I should be glad to know —

Miss P. If you will have a little more patience, I will make myself clear. I have always determined that when the – ah – occasion presented itself, I would deal with it on Ruskinian principles. I propose in your case – presuming of course that you are willing to be under vow for me – to adopt a middle course.

Culch. You are extremely good. And what precise form of – er – penance did you think of?

Miss P. The trial I impose is, that you leave Constance to-morrow – with Mr. Podbury.

Culch. (firmly). If you expect me to travel for seven years with him, permit me to mention that I simply cannot do it. My leave expires in three weeks.

Miss P. I mentioned no term, I believe. Long before three weeks are over we shall meet again, and I shall be able to see how you have borne the test. I wish you to correct, if possible, a certain intolerance in your attitude towards Mr. Podbury. Do you accept this probation, or not?

Culch. I – ah – suppose I have no choice. But you really must allow me to say that it is not precisely the reception I anticipated. Still, in your service, I am willing to endure even Podbury – for a strictly limited period; that I do stipulate for.

Miss P. That, as I have already said, is quite understood. Now go and arrange with Mr. Podbury.

Culch. (to himself, as he retires). It is most unsatisfactory; but at least Podbury is disposed of!

The same Scene, a quarter of an hour later. Podbury and Miss Prendergast.

Podb. (with a very long face). No, I say, though! Ruskin doesn't say all that?

Miss P. I am not in the habit of misquoting. If you wish to verify the quotation, however, I dare say I could find you the reference in Fors Clavigera.

Podb. (ruefully). Thanks – I won't trouble you. Only it does seem rather rough on fellows, don't you know. If every one went on his plan – well, there wouldn't be many marriages! Still, I never thought you'd say "Yes" right off. It's like my cheek, I know, to ask you at all; you're so awfully clever and that. And if there's a chance for me, I'm game for anything in the way of a trial. Don't make it stiffer than you can help, that's all!

Miss P. All I ask of you is to leave me for a short time, and go and travel with Mr. Culchard again.

Podb. Oh, I say, Miss Prendergast, you know. Make it something else. Do!

Miss P. That is the task I require, and I can accept no other. It is nothing, after all, but what you came out here to do.

Podb. I didn't know him then, you see. And what made me agree to come away with him at all is beyond me. It was all Hughie Rose's doing – he said we should get on together like blazes. So we have —very like blazes!

Miss P. Never mind that. Are you willing to accept the trial or not?

Podb. If you only knew what he's like when he's nasty, you'd let me off – you would, really. But there, to please you, I'll do it. I'll stand him as long as ever I can – 'pon my honour I will. Only you'll make it up to me afterwards, won't you now?

Miss P. I will make no promises – a true knight should expect no reward for his service, Mr. Podbury.

Podb. (blankly). Shouldn't he? I'm a little new to the business, you see, and it does strike me – but never mind. When am I to trot him off?

Miss P. As soon as you can induce him to go – to-morrow, if possible.

Podb. I don't believe he'll go, you know, for one thing!

Miss P. (demurely). I think you will find him open to persuasion. But go and try, Mr. Podbury.

Podb. (to himself, as he withdraws). Well, I've let myself in for a nice thing! Rummest way of treating a proposal I ever heard of. I should just like to tell that fellow Ruskin what I think of his precious ideas. But there's one thing, though – she can't care about Culchard, or she wouldn't want him carted off like this… Hooray, I never thought of that before! Why, there he is, dodging about to find out how I've got on. I'll tackle him straight off.

[Culchard and Podbury meet at the head of the staircase, and speak at the same moment.

Culch. Er – Podbury, it has occurred }

to me that we might – }

} leave this place to-morrow!

Podb. I say, Culchard, we really ought}

to – }

Podb. Hullo! we're both of one mind for once, eh? (To himself.) Poor old beggar! Got the sack! That explains a lot. Well, I won't tell him anything about this business just now.

Culch. So it appears. (To himself.) Had his quietus, evidently. Ah, well, I won't exult over him.

[They go off together to consult a time-table.

Miss P. (on the balcony musing). Poor fellows! I couldn't very well say anything more definite at present. By the time I see them again, I may understand my own heart better. Really, it is rather an exciting sensation, having two suitors under vow and doing penance at the same time – and all for my sake! I hope, though, they won't mention it to one another – or to Bob. Bob does not understand these things, and he might – But after all, there are only two of them. And Ruskin distinctly says that every girl who is worth anything ought always to have half a dozen or so. Two is really quite moderate.

CHAPTER XII.

Culchard descends from the Clouds

Scene —in Front of the Hôtel Bodenhaus at Splügen. The Diligence For Bellinzona is having its team attached. An elderly Englishwoman is sitting on her trunk, trying to run through the last hundred pages of a novel from the Hotel Library before her departure. Podbury is in the Hotel, negotiating for sandwiches. Culchard is practising his Italian upon a very dingy gentleman in smoked spectacles, with a shawl round his throat.

The Dingy Italian (suddenly discovering Culchard's nationality). Ecco, siete Inglese! Lat us spika Ingelis. I onnerstan' 'im to ze bottomside. (Laboriously, to Culchard, who tries to conceal his chagrin.) 'Ow menni time you employ to go since Coire at here? (C. nods with vague encouragement.) Vich manners of vezzer you vere possess troo your travels – mosh ommerella? (C.'s eyes grow vacant.) Ha, I tink it vood! Zis day ze vicket root sall 'ave plenti 'orse to pull, &c., &c. (Here Podbury comes up, and puts some rugs in the coupé of the diligence.) You sit at ze beginning-end, hey? better, you tink, zan ze mizzle? I too, zen, sall ride at ze front – we vill spika Ingelis, altro!

Podb. (overhearing this, with horror). One minute, Culchard. (He draws him aside.) I say, for goodness' sake, don't let's have that old organ-grinding Johnny in the coupé with us!

Culch. Organ-grinder! you are so very insular! For anything you can tell, he may be a decayed nobleman.

Podb. (coarsely). Well, let him decay somewhere else, that's all! Just tell the Conductor to shove him in the intérieur, do, while I nip into the coupé and keep our places.

[Culchard, on reflection, adopts this suggestion, and the Italian Gentleman, after fluttering feebly about the coupé door, is unceremoniously bundled by the Conductor into the hinder part of the diligence.

IN THE BERNARDINO PASS, DURING THE ASCENT.

Culch. Glorious view one gets at each fresh turn of the road, Podbury! Look at Hinter-rhein, far down below there, like a toy village, and that vast desolate valley, with the grey river rushing through it, and the green glacier at the end, and these awful snow-covered peaks all round —look, man!

Podb. I'm looking, old chap. It's all there, right enough!

Culch. (vexed). It doesn't seem to be making any particular impression on you, I must say!

Podb. It's making me deuced peckish, I know that – how about lunch, eh!

Culch. (pained). We are going through scenery like this, and all you think of is – lunch! (Podbury opens a basket.) You may give me one of those sandwiches. What made you get veal? and the bread's all crust, too! Thanks, I'll take some claret… (They lunch; the vehicle meanwhile toils up to the head of the Pass.) Dear me, we're at the top already! These rocks shut out the valley altogether – much colder at this height, eh? Don't you find this keen air most exhilarating?

Podb. (shivering). Oh very, do you mind putting your window up? Thanks. You seem uncommon chirpy to-day. Beginning to get over it, eh?

Culch. We shan't get over it for some hours yet.

Podb. I didn't mean the Pass, I meant – (hesitating) – well, your little affair with Miss Prendergast, you know.

Culch. My little affair? Get over? (He suddenly understands.) Oh, ah, to be sure. Yes, thank you, my dear fellow, it is not making me particularly unhappy. [He goes into a fit of silent laughter.

Podb. Glad to hear it. (To himself.) 'Jove, if he only knew what I know! [He chuckles.

Culch. You don't appear to be exactly heartbroken?

Podb. I? why should I be – about what?

Culch. (with an affectation of reserve). Exactly, I was forgetting. (To himself.) It's really rather humorous. (He laughs again.) Ha, we're beginning to go down now. Hey for Italy – la bella Italia! (The diligence takes the first curve.) Good Heavens, what a turn! We're going at rather a sharp pace for downhill, eh? I suppose these Swiss drivers know what they're about, though.

Podb. Oh, yes, generally – when they're not drunk. I can only see this fellow's boots – but they look to me a trifle squiffy.

Culch. (inspecting them, anxiously). He does seem to drive very recklessly. Look at those leaders – heading right for the precipice… Ah, just saved it! How we do lurch in swinging round!

Podb. Topheavy – I expect, too much luggage on board – have another sandwich?

Culch. Not for me, thanks. I say, I wonder if it's safe, having no parapet, only these stone posts, eh?

Podb. Safe enough – unless the wheel catches one – it was as near as a toucher just then – aren't you going to smoke? No? I am. By the way, what were you so amused about just now, eh?

Culch. Was I amused? (The vehicle gives another tremendous lurch.) Really, this is too horrible!

Podb. (with secret enjoyment.) We're right enough, if the horses don't happen to stumble. That off-leader isn't over sure-footed – did you see that? (Culch. shudders.) But what's the joke about Miss Prendergast?

Culch. (irritably). Oh, for Heaven's sake, don't bother about that now! I've something else to think about. My goodness, we were nearly over that time! What are you looking at?

Podb. (who has been leaning forward). Only one of the traces – they've done it up with a penny ball of string, but I dare say it will stand the strain. You aren't half enjoying the view, old fellow.

Culch. Yes, I am. Magnificent! – glorious! – isn't it?

Podb. Find you see it better with your eyes shut? But I say, I wish you'd explain what you were sniggering at.

Culch. Take my advice, and don't press me, my dear fellow; you may regret it if you do!

Podb. I'll risk it. It must be a devilish funny joke to tickle you like that. Come, out with it!

Culch. Well, if you must know, I was laughing… Oh, he'll never get those horses round in… I was – er – rather amused by your evident assumption that I must have been rejected by Miss Prendergast.

Podb. Oh, was that it? And you're nothing of the kind, eh?

[He chuckles again.

Culch. (with dignity). No doubt you will find it very singular; but, as a matter of fact, she – well, she most certainly did not discourage my pretensions.

Podb. The deuce she didn't! Did she tell you Ruskin's ideas about courtship being a probation, and ask you if you were ready to be under vow for her, by any chance?

Culch. This is too bad, Podbury! you must have been there, or you couldn't possibly know!

Podb. Much obliged, I'm sure. I don't listen behind doors, as a general thing. I suppose, now, she set you a trial of some kind, to prove your mettle, eh? [With another chuckle.

Culch. (furiously). Take care – or I may tell you more than you bargain for!

Podb. Go on – never mind me. Bless you, I'm under vow for her too, my dear boy. Fact!

Culch. That's impossible, and I can prove it. The service she demanded was, that I should leave Constance at once – with you. Do you understand – with you, Podbury!

Podb. (with a prolonged whistle). My aunt!

Culch. (severely). You may invoke every female relative you possess in the world, but it won't alter the fact, and that alone ought to convince you —

Podb. Hold on a bit. Wait till you've heard my penance. She told me to cart you off. Now, then!

Culch. (faintly). If I thought she'd been trifling with us both like that, I'd never —

Podb. She's no end of a clever girl, you know. And, after all, she may only have wanted time to make up her mind.

Culch. (violently). I tell you what she is – she's a cold-blooded pedantic prig, and a systematic flirt! I loathe and detest a prig, but a flirt I despise – yes, despise, Podbury!

Podb. (with only apparent irrelevance). The same to you, and many of 'em, old chap! Hullo, we're going to stop at this inn. Let's get out and stretch our legs and have some coffee.

[They do; on returning, they find the Italian Gentleman smiling blandly at them from inside the coupé.

The It. G. Goodaby, dear frens, a riverderla! I success at your chairs. I vish you a pleasure's delay!

Podb. But I say, look here, Sir, we're going on, and you've got our place!

The It. G. Sank you verri moch. I 'ope so.

[He blows Podbury a kiss.

Podb. (with intense disgust). How on earth are we going to get that beggar out? Set the Conductor at him, Culchard, do – you can talk the lingo best!

Culch. (who has had enough of Podbury for the present). Talk to him yourself, my dear fellow, I'm not going to make a row. [He gets in.

Podb. (to Conductor). Hi! sprechen sie Französisch, oder was? il-y-a quelque chose dans mon siège, dites-lui de– what the deuce is the French for "clear out"?

Cond. Montez, Monsieur, nous bartons, montez vîte alors!

[He thrusts Podbury, protesting vainly, into the intérieur, with two peasants, a priest, and the elderly Englishwoman. The diligence starts again.

CHAPTER XIII.

On revient Toujours!

Scene —A hundred yards or so from the top of Monte Generoso, above Lake Lugano. Culchard, who, with a crowd of other excursionists, has made the ascent by rail, is toiling up the steep and very slippery slope to the summit.

Culch. (to himself, as he stops to pant). More climbing! I thought this line was supposed to go to the top! But that's Italian all over – hem – as Podbury would say! Wonder, by the way, if he expected to be asked to come with me. I've no reason for sacrificing myself like that any longer! (He sighs.) Ah, Hypatia, if you could know what a dreary disenchanted blank you have made of my life! And I who believed you capable of appreciating such devotion as mine!

A Voice Behind. My! If I don't know that back I'll just give up! How've you been getting along all this time, Mr. Culchard?

Culch. (turning). Miss Trotter! A most delightful and – er – unexpected meeting, indeed!

Miss Trotter. Well, we came up on the cars in front of yours. We've taken rooms at the hotel up here. Poppa reckoned the air would be kind of fresher on the top of this mountain, and I don't believe but what he's right either. I guess I shall want another hairpin through my hat. And are you still going around with Mr. Podbury? As inseparable as ever, I presume?

Culch. Er —about as inseparable. That is, we are still travelling together – only, on this particular afternoon —

Miss T. He went and got mislaid? I see. He used to stray considerable over in Germany, didn't he? Well, I'm real pleased to see you anyway. And how's the poetry been panning out? I hope you've had a pretty good yield of sonnets?

Culch. (to himself). She's really grown distinctly prettier. She might show a little more feeling, though, considering we were almost, if not quite – (Aloud.) So you remember my poor poems? I'm afraid I have not been very – er – prolific of late.

Miss T. You don't say! I should think you'd have had one to show for every day, with the date to it, like a new-laid egg.

Culch. Birds don't lay – er – I mean they don't sing, in the dark. My light has been – er – lacking of late.

Miss T. If that's intended for me, you ought to begin chirping right away. But you're not going to tell me you've been "lounjun round en sufferin'" like – wasn't it Uncle Remus's Brer Terrapin? (Catching C.'s look of bewilderment.) What, don't you know Uncle Remus?

Culch. (politely). Mr. Trotter is the only relation of yours I have had the pleasure of meeting, as yet.

Miss T. Why, I reckoned Uncle Remus was pretty most everybody's relation by now. He's a book. But likely you've no use for our national humorous literature?

Culch. I – er – must confess I seldom waste time over the humorous literature of any nation.

Miss T. I guess that accounts for your gaiety! There, don't you mind me, Mr. Culchard. But suppose we hurry along and inspect this panorama they talk so much of; it isn't going to be any side-show. It's just a real representative mass-meeting of Swiss mountains, with every prominent peak in the country on the platform, and a deputation down below from the leading Italian lakes. It's ever so elegant, – and there's Poppa around on the top too.

On the top. Tourists discovered making more or less appropriate remarks.

First Tourist (struggling with a long printed panorama, which flaps like a sail). Grand view, Sir, get 'em all from here, you see! Monte Rosa, Matterhorn, Breithorn —

[Works through them all conscientiously, until, much to everybody's relief, his panorama escapes into space.

Second T. (a lady, with the air of a person making a discovery). How wonderfully small everything looks down below!

Third T. (a British Matron, with a talent for incongruity). Yes, dear, very —quite worth coming all this way for; but as I was telling you, we've always been accustomed to such an evangelical service, so that our new Rector is really rather– but we're quite friendly of course; go there for tennis, and he dines with us, and all that. Still, I do think, when it comes to having lighted candles in broad daylight– (&c., &c.)

Fourth T. (an equally incongruous American). Wa'al, yes, they show up well, cert'nly, those peaks do. But I was about to remark, Sir, I went to that particular establishment on Fleet Street. I called for a chop. And when it came, I don't deny I felt disappointed, for the plate all around was just as dry– ! But the moment I struck a fork into that chop, Sir, – well, the way the gravy just came gushing out was – there, it ain't no use me trying to put it in words! But from that instant, Sir, I kinder realized the peculiar charm of your British chop.

Fifth T. (a discontented Teuton). I exbected more as zis. It is nod glear enough – nod at all. Zey dolt me from ze dop you see Milan. I look all aroundt. Novere I see Milan! And I lief my obera-glass behint me in ze drain, and I slib on ze grass and sbrain my mittle finger, and altogedder I do not vish I had com.

Miss T. (presenting Culchard to Mr. Cyrus K. T.). I guess you've met this gentleman before!

Mr. T. Well now, that's so. I didn't just reckon I'd meet him again all this way above the sea-level though, but I'm just as pleased to see him. Rode up on the cars, I presume, Sir? Tolerable hilly road all the way, ain't it now? There cann't anybody say we hain't made the most of our time since you left us. Took a run over to Berlin; had two hours and a haff in that city, and I dunno as I keered about making a more pro-tracted visit. Went right through to Vi-enna, saw round Vi-enna. I did want, being so near, to just waltz into Turkey and see that. But I guess Turkey 'll have to keep till next time. Then back again into Switzerland, for I do seem to have kinder taken a fancy to Switzerland. I'd like to have put in more time there, and we stayed best part of a week too! But Italy's an interesting place. Yes, I'm getting considerable interested in Italy, so far as I've got. There's Geneva now —

Miss T. You do beat anything for mixing up places, Father. And you don't want to be letting yourself loose on Mr. Culchard this way. You'd better go and bring Mr. Van Boodeler along; he's round somewhere.

Mr. T. I do like slinging off when I meet a friend; but I'll shut down, Maud, I'll shut down.

Miss T. Oh, there you are, Charley! Come right here, and be introduced to Mr. Culchard. He's a vurry intelligent man. My cousin, Mr. Charles Van Boodeler, – Mr. Culchard. Mr. Van Boodeler's intelligent too. He's going to write our great National Amurrcan novel, soon as ever he has time for it. That's so, isn't it?

Mr. V. B. (a slim, pale young man, with a cosmopolitan air and a languid drawl). It's our most pressing national need, Sir, and I have long cherished the intention of supplying it. I am collecting material, and, when the psychological moment arrives, I shall write that novel. And I believe it will be a big thing, a very big thing; I mean to make it a complete compendium of every phase of our great and complicated civilization from State to State and from shore to shore. [Culchard bows vaguely.

Miss T. Yes, and the great Amurrcan public are going to rise up in their millions and boom it. Only I don't believe they'd better start booming just yet, till there's something more than covers to that novel. And how you're going to collect material for an Amurrcan novel, flying round Europe, just beats me!

Mr. V. B. (with superiority). Because you don't realize that it's precisely in Europe that I find my best American types. Our citizens show up better against a European background, – it excites and stimulates their nationality, so to speak. And again, with a big subject like mine, you want to step back to get the proper focus. Now I'm stepping back.

Miss T. I guess it's more like skipping, Charley. But so long as you're having a good time! And here's Mr. Culchard will fix you up some sonnets for headings to the chapters. You needn't begin right away, Mr. Culchard; I guess there's no hurry. But we get talking and talking, and never look at anything. I don't call it encouraging the scenery, and that's a fact!

Mr. T. (later, to Culchard). And you're pretty comfortable at your hotel? Well, I dunno, after all, what there is to keep us here. I guess we'll go down again and stop at Lugano, eh, Maud?

[Culchard eagerly awaits her reply.

Miss T. I declare! After bringing all my trunks way up here! But I'd just as soon move down as not; they're not unpacked any. (Joy of C.) Seems a pity, too, after engaging rooms here. And they looked real nice. Mr. Culchard, don't you and Mr. Podbury want to come up here and take them? They've a perfectly splendid view, and then we could have yours, you know! (C. cannot conceal his chagrin at this suggestion.) Well, see here, Poppa, we'll go along and try if we can't square the hotel-clerk and get our baggage on the cars again, and then we'll see just how we feel about it. I'm purrfectly indifferent either way.