Culchard makes a little Miscalculation.
SCENE.--_Garden of the Hotel Victoria at Bingen, commanding a view of
the Rhine and the vine-terraced hills, which are bathed in warm
afternoon sunlight. Under the mopheaded acacias_, CULCHARD _and_ PODBURY
_are sitting smoking. At a little distance from them, are a Young
Married Couple, whose honeymoon is apparently in its last quarter._
THE BRIDEGROOM (_lazily, to Bride, as she draws another chair towards
her for a foot-rest_). How many _more_ chairs do you want?
BRIDE (_without looking at him_). I should think you could spare me
one--you can hardly sit on three at once!
[_After this interchange of amenities, they consider themselves absolved
from any further conversational efforts._
PODB. (_to_ CULCH., _resuming a discussion_). I know as well as you do
that we are booked for Nuremberg; but what _I_ say is--that's no earthly
reason why we should _go_ there!
CULCH. No reason why _you_ should go, unless you wish it, certainly. _I_
intend to go.
PODB. Well, it's beastly selfish, that's all! I know _why_ you're so
keen about it, too. Because the Trotters are going.
CULCH. (_colouring_). That's an entire mistake on your part. Miss
Trotter has nothing to do with it. I don't even know whether she's going
or not--for certain.
PODB. No, but you've a pretty good idea that she _is_, though. And I
_know_ how it will be. You'll be going about with her all the time, and
I shall be shunted on to the old man! I don't _see_ it, you know!
(CULCH. _remains silent. A pause._ PODBURY _suddenly begins to search
his pockets._) I say--here's a pretty fix! Look here, old fellow,
doosid annoying thing, but I can't find my purse--must have lost it
somewhere!
CULCH. (_stoically_). I can't say I'm surprised to hear it. It's
awkward, certainly. I suppose I shall have to lend you enough to go home
with--it's all I can do; but I'll do that with--er--pleasure.
PODB. (_staring_). Go home? Why, I can wire to the governor for more,
easily enough. We shall have to stay here till it comes, that's all.
CULCH. And give up Nuremberg? Thank you!
PODB. I rather like this place, you know--sort of rest. And we could
always nip over to Ems, or Homburg, if it got too slow, eh?
CULCH. If I nip over anywhere, I shall nip to Nuremberg. We may just as
well understand one another, Podbury. If I'm to provide money for both
of us, it's only reasonable that you should be content to go where _I_
choose. I cannot, and will not, stand these perpetual interferences with
our original plan; it's sheer restlessness. Come with me to Nuremberg,
and I shall be very happy to be your banker. Otherwise, you must stay
here alone. [_He compresses his lips and crosses his legs._
PODB. Oh, _that's_ it, is it? But look here, why not tit up whether we
go on or stay?
CULCH. Why should I "tit up," as you call it, when I've already made up
my mind to go? When I once decide on anything, it's final.
THE BRIDE (_to Bridegroom, without enthusiasm_). Would you like me to
roll you a cigarette?
BRIDEGROOM (_with the frankness of an open nature_). Not if I know it. I
can do it better myself.
BRIDE (_coldly_). I see.
[_Another silence, at the end of which she rises and walks slowly away,
pausing at the gate to see whether he intends to follow. As he does not
appear to have remarked her absence, she walks on._
PODB. (_to_ CULCH., _in an undertone_). I say, those two don't seem to
hit it off exactly, eh? Seem sorry they came! You'll be glad to hear,
old fellow, that we needn't separate after all. Just found my purse in
my trouser-pocket!
CULCH. Better luck than you deserve. Didn't I tell you you should have a
special pocket for your money and coupons? Like this--see. (_He opens
his coat_) With a buttoned flap, it stands to reason they _must_ be
safe!
[Illustration: "GOOD HEAVENS, IT--IT'S GONE!"]
PODB. So long as you keep it buttoned, old chap,--which you don't seem
to do!
CULCH. (_annoyed_). Pshaw! The button is a trifle too--(_feels pocket,
and turns pale_). Good Heavens, it--it's _gone_!
PODB. The button?
CULCH. (_patting himself all over with shaking hands_).
Everything!--money, coupons, circular notes! They--they must have fallen
out going up that infernal Niederwald. (_Angrily._) You _would_ insist
on going!
PODB. Phew! The whole bag of tricks gone! You're lucky if you get them
again. Any number of tramps and beggars all the way up. Shouldn't have
taken off your coat--very careless of you! (_He grins._)
CULCH. It was so hot. I must go and inform the Police here--I may
recover it yet. Anyway, we--we must push on to Nuremberg, and I'll
telegraph home for money to be sent here. You can let me have enough to
get on with?
PODB. With all the pleasure in life, dear boy--on your own conditions,
you know. I mean, if I pay the piper, I call the tune. Now, I don't
cotton to Nuremberg somehow; I'd rather go straight on to Constance; we
could get some rowing there.
CULCH. (_pettishly_). Rowing be----(_recollecting his helplessness_).
No; but just consider, my dear Podbury. I assure you you'll find
Nuremberg a most delightful old place. You must see how bent I am on
going there!
PODB. Oh, yes, I see _that_. But then I'm _not_, don't you know--so
there we are!
CULCH. (_desperately_). Well, I'll--I'll meet you half-way. I've no
objection to--er--titting up with you--Nuremberg or Constance. Come?
PODB. You weren't so anxious to tit up just now--but never mind.
(_Producing a mark._) Now then, Emperor--Constance. Eagle--Nuremberg. Is
it sudden death, or best out of three? [_He tosses._
CULCH. Sud----(_The coin falls with the Emperor uppermost._) Best out
of three. [_He takes coin from_ PODBURY _and tosses._
PODB. Eagle! we're even so far. (_He receives coin._) This settles it.
[_He tosses._
CULCH. (_triumphantly_). Eagle again! Now mind, Podbury, no going back
after _this_. It must _be_ Nuremberg now.
PODB. All right! And now allow me to have the pleasure of restoring your
pocket-book and note-case. They did fall out on the Niederwald, and it
was a good job for you I was behind and saw them drop. You must really
be careful, dear boy. Ain't you going to say "ta" for them?
CULCH. (_relieved_). I'm--er--tremendously obliged. I really can't say
how.--(_Recollecting himself._) But you need not have taken advantage of
it to try to do me out of going to Nuremberg--it was a shabby trick!
PODB. Oh, it was only to get a rise out of you. I never meant to keep
you to it, of course. And I say, weren't you sold, though? Didn't I lead
up to it beautifully? (_He chuckles._) Score to me, eh!
CULCH. (_with amiable sententiousness_). Ah, well, I don't grudge you
your little joke if it amuses you. Those laugh best who laugh last. And
it's settled now that we're going to Nuremberg.
[MISS TROTTER _and her father have come out from the Speisesaal doors,
and overhear the last speech._
MR. TROTTER (_to_ CULCHARD). Your friend been gettin' off a joke on you,
Sir?
CULCH. Only in his own estimation, Mr. Trotter. I have nailed him down
to going to Nuremberg, which, for many reasons, I was extremely anxious
to visit. (_Carelessly._) Are we likely to be there when you are?
MISS T. I guess not. We've just got our mail, and my cousin, Charley Van
Boodeler, writes he's having a real lovely time in the Engadine--says
it's the most elegant locality he's struck yet, and just as full of
Amurrcans as it can hold; so we're going to start out there right away.
I don't believe we shall have time for Nuremberg this trip. Father, if
we're going to see about checking the baggage through, we'd better go
down to the _depot_ right now. [_They pass on._
CULCH. (_with a very blank face and a feeble whistle_).
Few-fitty-fitty-fitty-fa-di-fee-fee-foo; few----After all, Podbury, I
don't know that I care so much about Nuremberg. They--they say it's a
good deal changed from what it was.
PODB. So are _you_, old chap, if it comes to that.
Tiddledy-iddlety-ido-lumpty-doodle-oo! Is it to be Constance after all,
then?
CULCH. (_reddening_). Er--I rather thought of the Engadine--more
_bracing_, eh?--few-feedle-eedle-oodle----
PODB. You artful old whistling oyster, _I_ see what you're up to! But
it's no go; she don't want either of us Engadining about after her. It's
Charley Van Stickinthemud's turn now! We've got to go to Nuremberg. You
can't get out of it, after gassing so much about the place. When you've
once decided, you know, it's _final_!
CULCH. (_with dignity_). I am not aware that I _wanted_ to get out of
it. I merely proposed in your----(PODBURY _suddenly explodes_.) What are
you cackling at _now_?
PODB. (_wiping his eyes_). It's the last laugh, old man,--and it's the
best!
[CULCHARD _walks away rapidly, leaving_ PODBURY _in solitary enjoyment
of the joke._ PODBURY'S _mirth immediately subsides into gravity, and he
kicks several unoffending chairs with quite uncalled-for brutality._