+Podbury finds Consolation.+
SCENE--_A Bridge over the Pegnitz, at Nuremberg. Time, afternoon. The
shadows of the old gabled and balconied houses are thrown sharply on the
reddish-yellow water. Above the steep speckled roofs, the spires of St.
Lorenz glitter against the blue sky._ CULCHARD _is leaning listlessly
upon the parapet of the bridge._
CULCHARD (_to himself_). How mediaeval it all is, and how infinitely
restful! (_He yawns._) What a blessed relief to be without that fellow
Podbury! He's very careful to keep out of my way--I've scarcely seen him
since I've been here. He must find it dreadfully dull. (_He sighs._) I
ought to find material for a colour-sonnet here, with these subdued grey
tones, those dull coppery-greens, and the glowing reds of the conical
caps of those towers. I _ought_--but I don't. I fancy that
half-engagement to Maud Trotter must have scared away the Muse. I wonder
if Podbury has really gone yet? (_Here a thump on the back disposes of
any doubt as to this._) Er--so you're still at Nuremberg? [_Awkwardly._
PODB. (_cheerfully_). Rather! Regular ripping old place this--suits me
down to the ground. And how are _you_ getting on, my bonnie boy, eh?
CULCH. (_who does not quite like being addressed as a bonnie boy_).
Perfectly, thanks. My mind is being--er--stimulated here in the
direction most congenial to it.
PODB. So's mine. By the way, have you got a book--I don't mean a novel,
but a regular improving book--the stodgier the better--to lend a fellow?
CULCH. Well, I brought an _Epitome of Herbert Spencer's Synthetic_
_Philosophy_ away with me to dip into occasionally. It seems a very able
summary, and you are welcome to it, if it's of any use to you.
PODB. Spencer, eh?--he's a stiff kind of old bird, ain't he? He'll do me
to-rights, thanks.
CULCH. It strikes me, Podbury, that you must find the time rather long,
to want a book of that kind. If you wish to resume our--ah--original
relations, I am quite ready to overlook what I am sure was only a phase
of not unnatural disappointment.
PODB. (_cheerfully_). Oh, _that's_ all right, old fellow. I've got over
all that business. (_He colours slightly._) How soon did you think of
moving on?
CULCH. (_briskly_). As soon as you please. We might start for Constance
to-morrow, if you like.
PODB. (_hesitating_). Well, you see, it's just this: there's a fellow
staying at my hotel--Prendergast, his name is--rattling good sort--and
I've rather chummed up with him, and--and he's travelling with a
relation of his, and--well, the fact is, they rather made a point of my
going on to Constance with _them_, don't you see? But I daresay we could
work it so as to go on all together. I'll see what they say about it.
CULCH. (_stiffly_). I'm exceedingly obliged--but so large a party is
scarcely--however, I'll let you know whether I can join you or not this
evening. Are you--er--going anywhere in particular just now?
PODB. Well, yes. I've got to meet Prendergast at the _Cafe Noris_. We're
going to beat up some stables, and see if we can't hire a couple of gees
for an hour or two before dinner. Do you feel inclined for a tittup?
CULCH. Thanks, but I am no equestrian. (_To himself, after_ PODBURY'S
_departure._) He seems to manage well enough without me. And yet I do
think my society would be more good for him than----. Why did he want to
borrow that book, though? Can my influence after all----(_He walks on
thoughtfully, till he finds himself before an optician's window in which
a mechanical monkey is looking through a miniature telescope; the monkey
suddenly turns its head and gibbers at him. This familiarity depresses
him, and he moves away, feeling lonelier than ever._)
ON THE TERRACE OF THE BURG. HALF AN HOUR LATER.
CULCH. (_on a seat commanding a panorama of roofs, gables, turrets, and
spires_). Now this is a thing that can only be properly enjoyed when one
is by oneself. The mere presence of Podbury--well, thank goodness, he's
found more congenial company. (_He sighs._) That looks like an English
girl sketching on the next seat. Rather a fine profile, so
regular--general air of repose about her. Singular, now I think of it,
how little repose there is about Maud. (_The_ Young Lady _rises and
walks to the parapet._) Dear me, she has left her india-rubber behind
her. I really think I ought----(_He rescues the india-rubber, which he
restores to the owner._) Am I mistaken in supposing that this piece of
india-rubber is your property?
THE Y. L. (_in musically precise tones_). Your supposition is perfectly
correct. I was under the impression that it would be safe where it was
for a few moments; but I am obliged to you, nevertheless. I find
india-rubber quite indispensable in sketching.
CULCH. I can quite understand that. I--I mean that it reduces
the--er--paralysing sense of irrevocability.
THE Y. L. You express my own meaning exactly.
[CULCHARD, _not being quite sure of his own, is proportionately
pleased._
CULCH. You have chosen an inspiring scene, rich with historical
interest.
THE Y. L. (_enthusiastically_). Yes, indeed. What names rise to one's
mind instinctively! Melanchthon, John Huss, Kraft, and Peter Vischer,
and Duerer, and Wohlgemut, and Maximilian the First, and Louis of
Bavaria!
CULCH. (_who has read up the local history, and does not intend to be
beaten at this game_). Precisely. And the imperious Margrave of
Brandenburg, and Wallenstein, and Gustavus Adolphus, and Goetz von
Berlichingen. One can almost see their--er--picturesque personalities
still haunting the narrow streets as we look down.
THE Y. L. I find it impossible to distinguish even the streets from
here, I confess, but you probably see with the imagination of an artist.
_Are_ you one by any chance?
[Illustration: "ER--I HAVE BROUGHT YOU THE PHILOSOPHICAL WORK I
MENTIONED."]
CULCH. Only in words; that is, I record my impressions in a poetic form.
A perfect sonnet may render a scene, a mood, a passing thought, more
indelibly than the most finished sketch; may it not?
THE Y. L. That is quite true; indeed, I occasionally relieve my feelings
by the composition of Greek or Latin verses, which I find, on the whole,
better adapted to express the subtler emotions. Don't you agree with me
there?
CULCH. (_who has done no Greek or Latin verse since he left school_).
Doubtless. But I am hindering your sketch?
THE Y. L. No, I was merely saturating my mind with the general effect. I
shall not really begin my sketch till to-morrow. I am going now. I hope
the genius of the place will inspire you.
CULCH. Thank you. I trust it will--er--have that effect. (_To himself
after the_ Young Lady _has left the terrace._) Now, that's a very
superior girl--she has intellect, style, culture--everything the ideal
woman _should_ have. I wonder, now, whether, if I had met her
before--but such speculations are most unprofitable! How clear her eyes
looked through her _pince-nez_! Blue-grey, like Athene's own. If I'd
been with Podbury, I should never have had this talk. The sight of him
would have repelled her at once. I shall tell him when I take him that
book that he had better go his own way with his new friends. I like the
view from this terrace--I shall come up here again--often.
SCENE--_The Conversations-Saal at the Wurtemburger-Hof. Evening._
PODBURY _at the piano_; BOB PRENDERGAST _and his sister_ HYPATIA _seated
near him._
PODB. (_chanting dolefully_)--
Now then, this party as what came from Fla-an-ders,
What had the com-plex-i-on rich and rare,
He went and took and caught the yaller ja-un-ders--
And his complexion isn't what it were!
MR. AND MISS PRENDERGAST (_joining sympathetically in chorus_). And his
complexion _isn't_ what it _were_!
[_There is a faint knock at the door, and_ CULCHARD _enters with a
volume under his arm. None of the three observe him, and he stands and
listens stiffly as_ PODBURY _continues,_--
Well, next this party as what came from Fla-an-ders,
Whose complex-shun was formi-ally rare,
Eloped to Injia with Eliza Sa-aun-ders,
As lived close by in Canonbury Square.
CULCH. (_advances to piano and touches_ PODBURY'S _arm with the air of
his better angel_). Er--I have brought you the philosophical work I
mentioned. I will leave it for an occasion when you are--er--in a fitter
frame of mind for its perusal.
PODB. Oh, beg pardon, didn't see you, old fellow. Awfully obliged; jam
it down anywhere, and (_whispering_) I say, I want to introduce you
to----
CULCH. (_in a tone of emphatic disapproval_). You must really excuse me,
as I fear I should be scarcely a congenial spirit in such a party. So
good-night--or, rather--er--good-_bye_. [_He withdraws._
MISS HYPATIA P. (_just as_ C. _is about to close the door_). Please
don't stop, Mr. Podbury, that song is quite too deliciously inane!
[CULCHARD _turns as he hears the voice, and--too late--recognises his
Athene of that afternoon. He retires in confusion, and, as he passes
under the window, hears_ PODBURY _sing the final verse._
The moral is--Now _don't_ you come from Fla-an-ders,
If you should have complexions rich and rare;
And don't you go and catch the yaller ja-aun-ders,
Nor yet know girls in Canonbury Square!
MISS HYPATIA P. (_in a clear soprano_). "Nor yet know girls in Canonbury
Square!" [CULCHARD _passes on, crushed._