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
bottom-side. (_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 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.
_Pod._ (_coarsely_). Well, let him decay somewhere else, that's all!
Just tell the Conductor to shove him in the _intérieur_, do, while I
nip in the _coupé_ and keep our places.
[Illustration: "An elderly Englishwoman is sitting on her trunk."]
[_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?
_Pod._ 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 daresay
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._
* * * * *