SCENE--_On the Lagoons. CULCHARD and PODBURY's gondola is
nearing Venice. The apricot-tinted diaper on the façade of
the Ducal Palace is already distinguishable, and behind its
battlements the pearl-grey summits of the domes of St. Mark's
shimmer in the warm air. CULCHARD and PODBURY have hardly
exchanged a sentence as yet. The former has just left off
lugubriously whistling as much as he can remember of "Che
faro," the latter is still humming "The Dead March in Saul,"
although in a livelier manner than at first._
_Culch._ Well, my dear PODBURY, our--er--expedition has turned out
rather disastrously!
_Podb._ (_suspending the Dead March, chokily_). Not much mistake about
_that_--but there, it's no good talking about it. Jolly that brown and
yellow sail looks on the fruit-barge there. See?
[Illustration: "Reads with a gradually lengthening countenance."]
_Culch._ (_sardonically_). Isn't it a little late in the day to be
cultivating an eye for colour? I was about to say that those two
girls have treated us infamously. I say deliberately, my dear PODBURY,
_infamously_!
_Podb._ Now drop it, CULCHARD, do you hear? I won't hear a word
against either of them. It serves us jolly well right for not knowing
our own minds better--though I no more dreamed that old BOB would--Oh,
hang it, I can't talk about it yet!
_Culch._ That's childishness, my dear fellow; you _ought_ to talk
about it--it will do you good. And really, I'm not at all sure, after
all, that we have not both of us had a fortunate escape. One is very
apt to--er--overrate the fascinations of persons one meets abroad.
Now, neither of those two was _quite_--
_Podb._ (_desperately_). Take care! I swear I'll pitch you out of this
gondola, unless you stop that jabber!
_Culch._ (_with wounded dignity_). I am willing to make great
allowances for your state of mind, PODBURY, but such an expression
as--as _jabber_, applied to my--er--well-meant attempts
at consolation, and just as I was about to propose an
arrangement--really, it's _too_ much! The moment we reach the hotel,
I will relieve you from any further infliction from (_bitterly_) what
you are pleased to call my "jabber!"
_Podb._ (_sulkily_). Very well--'m sure _I_ don't care! (_To
himself._) Even old CULCHARD won't have anything to do with me now! I
must have _somebody_ to talk to--or I shall go off my head! (_Aloud_).
I say, old _chap_! (_No answer_.) Look here--it's bad enough as it is
without _our_ having a row! Never mind anything I said.
_Culch._ I _do_ mind--I _must_. I am not accustomed to hear myself
called a--a _jabberer_!
_Podb._ I _didn't_ call you a jabberer--I only said you _talked_
jabber. I--I hardly know what I _do_ say, when I'm like this. And I'm
deuced sorry I spoke--there!
_Culch._ (_relaxing_). Well, do you withdraw jabber?
_Podb._ Certainly, old chap. I _like_ you to talk, only not--not
against Her, you know! What were you going to propose?
_Culch._ Well, my idea was this. My leave is practically unlimited--at
least, without vanity, I think I may say that my Chief sufficiently
appreciates my services not to make a fuss about a few extra days. So
I thought I'd just run down to Florence and Naples, and perhaps catch
a P. & O. at Brindisi. I suppose _you're_ not tied to time in any way?
_Podb._ (_dolefully_). Free as a bird! If the Governor had wanted me
back in the City, he'd have let me know it. Well?
_Culch._ Well, if you like to come with me, I--I shall be very pleased
to have your company.
_Podb._ (_considering_). I don't care if I do--it may cheer me up a
bit. Florence, eh?--and Naples? I shouldn't mind a look at Florence.
Or Rome. How about Rome, now?
_Culch._ (_to himself_). Was I wise to expose myself to this sort of
thing _again_? I'm almost sorry I-- (_Aloud._) My dear fellow, if
we are to travel together in any sort of comfort, you must leave all
details to _me_. And there's one thing I _do_ insist on. In future we
must keep to our original resolution--not to be drawn into any chance
acquaintanceship. I don't want to reproach you, but if, when we were
first at Brussels, you had not allowed yourself to get so intimate
with the TROTTERS, all this would never--
_Podb._ (_exasperated_). There you go again! I can't stand being jawed
at, CULCHARD, and I won't!
_Culch._ I am no more conscious of "jawing" than "jabbering," and if
_that_ is how I am to be spoken to--!
_Podb._ I know. Look here, it's no use. You must go to Florence by
yourself. I simply don't feel up to it, and that's the truth. I shall
just potter about here, till--till _they_ go.
_Culch._ As you choose. I gave you the opportunity--out of kindness.
If you prefer to make yourself ridiculous by hanging about here, it's
no concern of mine. I daresay I shall enjoy Florence at least as well
by myself.
[_He sulks until they arrive at the Hotel Dandolo, where they
are received on the steps by the Porter._
_Porter_. Goot afternoon, Schendlemen. You have a bleasant dimes at
Torcello, yes? Ach! you haf gif your gondoliers vifdeen franc? Zey
schvindle you, oal ze gondoliers alvays schvindles eferypody, yes!
Zere is som ledders for you. I vetch zem. [_He bustles away._
_Mr. Bellerby_ (_suddenly emerging from a recess in the entrance, as
he recognises CULCHARD_). Why bless me, there's a face I know! Met
at Lugano, didn't we? To be sure--very pleasant chat we had too! So
you're at Venice, eh? I know every stone of it by heart, as I needn't
say. The first time I was ever at Venice--
_Culch._ (_taking a bulky envelope from the Porter_). Just so--how are
you? Er--will you excuse me?
[_He opens the envelope and finds a blue official-looking
enclosure, which he reads with a gradually lengthening
countenance._
_Mr. B._ (_as CULCHARD thrusts the letter angrily into his pocket_).
You're new to Venice, I think? Well, just let me give you a word of
advice. Now you _are_ here--you make them give you some tunny. Insist
on it, Sir. Why, when I was here first--
_Culch._ (_impatiently_). I know. I mean, you told me that before. And
I _have_ tasted tunny.
_Mr. B._ Ha! well, what did you think of it? _Delicious_, eh?
_Culch._ (_forgetting all his manners_). Beastly, Sir, _beastly!
[Leaves the scandalised Mr. B. abruptly, and rushes off to get a
telegram form at the bureau._
_Mr. Crawley Strutt_ (_pouncing on PODBURY in the hall, as he
finishes the perusal of his letter_). Excuse me--but surely I have
the honour of addressing Lord GEORGE GUMBLETON? You may perhaps just
recollect, my Lord--?
_Podb._ (_blankly_). Think you've made a mistake, really.
_Mr. C.S._ Is it possible! I have come across so many people while
I've been away that--but surely we have met _somewhere_? Why, of
course, Sir JOHN JUBBER! you must pardon me, SIR JOHN--
_Podb._ (_recognizing him_). My name's PODBURY--plain PODBURY, but
you're quite right. You _have_ met me--and you've met my bootmaker
too. "Lord UPPERSOLE," eh? That's where the mistake came in!
_Mr. C.S._ (_with hauteur_). I think not, Sir; I have no recollection
of the circumstance. I see now your face is quite unfamiliar to me.
[_He moves away; PODBURY gets a telegram form and sits down
at a table in the hall opposite CULCHARD._
_Culch._ (_reading over his telegram_). "Yours just received. Am
returning immediately."
_Podb._ (_do., do._). "Letter to hand. No end sorry. Start at once."
(_Seeing CULCHARD._) Wiring to Florence for room, eh?
_Culch._ Er--no. The fact is, I've just heard from my Chief--a--a
most intemperate communication, insisting on my instant return to my
duties! I shall have to humour him, I suppose, and leave at once.
_Podb._ So shall I. No end of a shirty letter from the Governor. Wants
to know how much longer I expect him to be tied to the office. Old
humbug, when he only turns up twice a week for a couple of hours!
_The Porter_. Peg your bardons, Schendlemen, but if you haf qvide done
vid ze schtamps on your ledders, I gollect bostage schtamps, yes.
_Culch._ (_irritably flinging him the envelope_). Oh, confound it all.
take them. _I_ don't want them! (_He looks at his letter once more._)
I say, PODBURY, it--it's worse than I thought. This thing's a week
old! Must have been lying in my rooms all this time--or else in that
infernal Italian post!
_Podb._ Whew, old chap! I say, I wouldn't be _you_ for something!
Won't you catch it when you _do_ turn up? But look here--as things
are, we may as well travel _home_ together, eh?
_Culch._ (_with a flicker of resentment_). In spite of my tendency to
"jaw" and "jabber"?
_Podb._ Oh, never mind all that now. We're companions in misfortune,
you know, and we'd better stick together, and keep each other's
spirits up. After all, you're in a much worse hat than _I_ am!
_Culch._ If _that's_ the way you propose to keep my spirits up!--But
let us keep together, by all means, if you wish it, and just go and
find out when the next train starts, will you? (_To himself, as
PODBURY departs._) I must put up with him a little longer, I suppose.
Ah me! _How_ differently I should be feeling now, if HYPATIA had only
been true to herself. But that's all over, and I daresay it's better
so ... I daresay!
[_He strolls into the hotel-garden, and begins to read his
Chief's missive once more, in the hope of deciphering some
faint encouragement between the lines._