The Travelling Companions Part 15

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.

CULCH. (_to himself, as he follows_). Can she be really as indifferent as she seems? I'm afraid she has very little heart! But if only she can be induced to go back to Lugano.... She will be at the same hotel--a great point! I wish that fellow Van Boodeler wasn't coming too, though.... Not that they've settled to come at all yet!... Still, I fancy she likes the idea.... She'll come--if I don't appear too anxious about it!

[_He walks on, trying to whistle carelessly._

CHAPTER XIV.

+Miss Banquo.+

SCENE--_Gardens belonging to the Hotel du Parc, Lugano. Time, afternoon; the orchestra is turning up in a kiosk._ CULCHARD _is seated on a bench in the shade, keeping an anxious eye upon the opposite door_.

CULCH. (_to himself_). She said she had a headache, and made her father and Van Boodeler go out on the lake without her. But she certainly gave me to understand that she might come out when the band played, if she felt better. The question is, whether she _means_ to feel better or not.

She is the most tantalizing girl! _I_ don't know what to make of her.

Not a single reference, as yet, to that last talk we had at Bingen. I must see if I can't recall it to her memory--if she comes. I'll wait here, on the chance of it--we are not likely to be dis----. Confound it all--Podbury! (_with suppressed irritation as_ PODBURY _comes up_).

Well, do you _want_ anything in particular?

PODB. (_cheerfully, as he sits down_). Only the pleasure of your society, old chap. How nicely you do put things!

CULCH. The--er--fact is, I can't promise to be a particularly lively companion just now.

PODB. Not by way of a change? Ah, well, it's a pity--but I must put up with you as you are, I suppose. You see--(_with a grin_)--I've got that vow to work out.

CULCH. Possibly--but _I_ haven't. As I've already told you--I retire.

PODB. Wobbled back to Miss Trotter again, eh? Matter of taste, of course, but, for my part, I think your _first_ impression of her was nearer the truth--she's not what I call a highly cultivated sort of girl, y' know.

CULCH. You are naturally exacting on that point, but have the goodness to leave my first impressions alone, and--er--frankly, Podbury, I see no necessity (_now_, at all events) to take that ridiculous--hum--penance _too_ literally. We are _travelling_ together, and I imagine that is enough for Miss Prendergast.

PODB. It's enough for _me_--especially when you make yourself so doosid amiable as this. You needn't alarm yourself--you won't have any more of my company than I can help; only I _must_ say, for two fellows who came out to do a tour _together_, it's---- [_Walks away, grumbling._

_Later. The band has finished playing_; MISS TROTTER _is on the bench with_ CULCHARD.

MISS T. And you mean to tell me you've never met anybody since you even cared to converse with?

CULCH. (_diplomatically_). Does that strike you as so very incredible?

MISS T. Well, it strikes me as just a _little_ too thin. I judged you'd go away, and forget I ever existed.

CULCH. (_with tender reproach_). How little you know me! I may not be an--er--demonstrative man, my--er--feelings are not easily roused, but, once roused, well--(_wounded_)--I think I may claim to possess an ordinary degree of constancy!

MISS T. Well, I'm sure I _ought_ to feel it a vurry high compliment to have you going round grieving all this time on _my_ account.

CULCH. Grieving! Ah, if I could only _tell_ you what I went through!

(_Decides, on reflection, that the less he says about this the better._) But all that is past. And now may I not expect a more definite answer to the question I asked at Bingen? Your reply then was--well, a little ambiguous.

MISS T. I guess it's got to be just about as ambiguous now--there don't seem anything I _can_ say. There's times when I feel as if it might be sort of elevating and improving to have you s.h.i.+ning around; and there's other times when I suspect that, if it went on for any considerable period, likely I'd weaken. I'm not just sure. And I cann't ever make myself believe but what you're disapproving of me, inside of you, most all the time!

CULCH. Pray dismiss such--er--morbid misgivings, dear Miss Trotter. Show that you do so by accepting me as your guide and companion through life!

[Ill.u.s.tration: "HOW LITTLE YOU KNOW ME."]

MISS T. My! but that sounds like a proposal?

CULCH. I intended it to bear that--er--construction. It _is_ a proposal--made after the fullest reflection.

MISS T. I'm ever so obliged. But we don't fix things quite that way in my country. We want to feel pretty sure, first, we shann't get left. And it don't seem to me as if I'd had opportunities enough of studying your leading characteristics. I'll have to study them some more before I know whereabouts I am; and I want you to understand that I'm not going to commit myself to anything at present. That mayn't be sentiment, but I guess it's common-sense, anyway. And all _you_'ve got to do is, just to keep around, and kind of impress me with a conviction that you're the vurry brightest and best man in the entire universe, and I don't believe you'll find much difficulty about _that_. And now I guess we'll go into _table d'hote_--I'm just as _ravenous_!

CULCH. (_to himself, as he follows her_). Really, this is not much better than Ruskin, after all. But I don't despair. That last remark was distinctly encouraging!

SCENE--_A large Salle a Manger, decorated in the Pompeian style. Table d'hote has begun._ CULCHARD _is seated between_ MISS TROTTER _and a large and conversational stranger. Opposite are three empty chairs._

CULCHARD'S NEIGHBOUR. Then you're going on to Venice? Well, you take _my_ advice. When you get there, you ask for tunny. Don't forget--_tunny_!

CULCH. (_who wants to talk to_ MISS T.). Tunny? Thank you. I--er--will certainly remember his name, if I require a guide.

HIS N. A guide? No, no--tunny's a _fish_, Sir, a coa.r.s.e red fish, with flesh like a raw beefsteak.

CULCH. Is that so? Then I will make a point of asking for it--if I want raw beefsteak. [_Attempts to turn to_ MISS T.

HIS N. That's what _I_ did when I was at Venice. I sent for the Manager.

He came. I said to him, "Look here, I'm an Englishman. My name's Bellerby. (CULCHARD _bows in patient boredom_.) I've heard of your Venetian tunny. I wish to taste it. _Bring_ me some!"

CULCH. (_crus.h.i.+ngly_). A most excellent method of obtaining it, no doubt. (_To_ WAITER.) _Numero vingt-sept, demi bouteille de Chianti, et siphon!_

HIS N. You don't wait till I've _done_, Sir! I _didn't_ obtain it--not at first. The man made excuses. I was prepared for _that_. I told him plainly, "I know what _you_'re thinking--it's a cheap fish, and you fancy I'm ordering it out of economy!"

CULCH. (_raising his eyebrows for_ MISS T.'S _benefit_). Of course, he naturally _would_ think so. And _that_ is how you got your tunny? I see.

[MR. BELLERBY _stares at him suspiciously, and decides to suppress the remainder of his tunny._

MISS T. This hotel seems to be thinning some. We've three ghosts right in front of us this evening.

CULCH. (_turning with effusion_). So we have! My friend is one, and he'll be here presently, but I much prefer myself to see every seat occupied. There is something so depressing about a vacant chair, don't you think?

MISS T. It's calculated to put one in mind of _Macbeth's_ little dinner-party, certainly. But you can cheer up, Mr. Culchard, here comes a couple of belated _Banquos_. My gracious, I _do_ like that girl's face--she has such a perfectly lovely expression, and looks real superior too!

CULCH. (_who has just dropped his gla.s.ses into his soup_). I--ah--which lady are you referring to? (_He cleans and adjusts his gla.s.ses--to discover that he is face to face with_ MISS HYPATIA PRENDERGAST.) Oh ...

I--I see--precisely, quite so! (_He turns to_ BELLERBY _to cover his confusion and avoid meeting_ MISS PRENDERGAST'S _eye_.) I _beg_ your pardon, you were describing how you caught a tunny? Pray continue.

MR. BELLERBY (_stiffly_). Excuse me, I don't seem fortunate enough to have secured your undivided attention.

CULCH. (_with intense interest_). Quite the contrary, I a.s.sure you! You were saying you always ordered it out of economy?