+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 shining 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!
[Illustration: "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 coarse 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. (_crushingly_). 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 glasses into his soup_). I--ah--which
lady are you referring to? (_He cleans and adjusts his glasses--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 assure you! You
were saying you always ordered it out of economy?
MR. B. Pardon _me_--I was saying nothing of the sort. I was saying that
I told the Manager I knew that was why he _thought_ I ordered it--a
rather different thing! "You're quite wrong," I said. "You may pay
twopence-halfpenny a pound for it, and charge me half-a-crown, if you
like, but I mean to _taste_ that tunny!" I was determined not to be done
out of my tunny, Sir!
CULCH. (_breathlessly_). And what did the tunny--I mean the Manager--say
to _that_?
MR. B. Oh, made more difficulties--it wasn't to be got, and so on. At
last I said to him (very quietly, but he saw I was in earnest), "Now I
tell you what it _is_--I'm going to _have_ that tunny, and, if you
refuse to give it me,--well, I shall just send my courier _out_ for it,
that's all!" So, with _that_, they brought me some--and anything more
delicious I never tasted in all my life!
CULCH. (_to himself_). If I can only keep him on at this tunny!
(_Aloud._) And--er--what _does_ it taste like exactly, now?
MR. B. (_pregnantly._) You _order_ it, Sir--_insist_ on having it. Then
you'll _know_ what it tastes like! [_He devotes himself to his soup._
CULCH. (_with his eyes lowered--to himself._) I _must_ look up in
another _minute_--and then! [_He shivers._