+Wearing Rue with a Difference.+
SCENE--_The Steps of the Hotel Dandolo, about_ 11 A.M. PODBURY _is
looking expectantly down the Grand Canal_, CULCHARD _is leaning upon the
Balustrade_.
PODB. Yes, met Bob just now. They've gone to the Europa, but we've
arranged to take a gondola together, and go about. They're to pick me up
here. Ah, that looks rather like them. (_A gondola approaches, with_
MISS PRENDERGAST _and_ BOB; PODBURY _goes down the steps to meet them_.)
How are you, Miss Prendergast? Here I _am_, you see.
MISS P. (_ignoring_ C.'S _salute_). How do you do, Mr. Podbury? Surely
you don't propose to go out in a gondola in _that_ hat!
PODB. (_taking off a brown "pot-hat," and inspecting it_). It--it's
quite _decent_. It was new when I came away!
BOB (_who is surly this morning_). Hang it all, Patia! Do you want him
to come out in a chimney-pot? Jump in, old fellow, never mind your tile?
PODB. (_apologetically_). I had a straw once--but I sat on it. I'm
awfully sorry, Miss Prendergast. Look here, shall I go and see if I can
buy one?
MISS P. Not now--it doesn't signify, for once. But a round hat and a
gondola are really _too_ incongruous!
PODB. Are they? A lot of the Venetians seem to wear 'em. (_He steps
in._) Now what are we going to do--just potter about?
MISS P. One hardly comes to Venice to _potter_! I thought we'd go and
study the Carpaccios at the Church of the Schiavoni first--they won't
take us more than an hour or so; then cross to San Giorgio Maggiore, and
see the Tintorets, come back and get a general idea of the exterior of
St. Mark's, and spend the afternoon at the Accademia.
PODB. (_with a slight absence of heartiness_). Capital! And--er--lunch
at the Academy, I suppose?
MISS P. There does not happen to be a restaurant there--we shall see
what time we have. I must say _I_ regard every minute of daylight spent
on food here as a sinful waste.
BOB. Now just look here, Patia, if you _are_ bossing this show, you
needn't go cutting us off our grub! What do _you_ say, Jem?
PODB. (_desperately anxious to please_). Oh, I don't know that I care
about lunch myself--much. [_Their voices die away on the water._
CULCH. (_musing_). She might have _bowed_ to me!... _She_ has escaped
the mosquitoes.... Ah, well, I doubt if she'll find those two
particularly sympathetic companions! Now I _should_ enjoy a day spent in
that way. Why shouldn't I, as it is? I dare say Maud will----
[_Turns and sees_ MR. TROTTER.
MR. T. My darter will be along presently. She's Cologning her
cheeks--they've swelled up again some. I guess you want to Cologne
_your_ cheeks--they're dreadful lumpy. I've just been on the Pi-azza
again, Sir. It's curious now the want of enterprise in these Vernetians.
Any one would have expected they'd have thrown a couple or so of girder
bridges across the canal between this and the Ri-alto, and run an
elevator up the Campanile--but this ain't what you might call a
_business_ city, Sir, and that's a fact. (_To_ MISS T. _as she
appears_.) Hello, Maud, the ice-water cool down your face any?
MISS T. Not _much_. My face just made that ice-water boil over. I don't
believe I'll ever have a complexion again--it's divided up among several
dozen mosquitoes, who've no use for one. But it's vurry consoling to
look at _you_, Mr. Culchard, and feel there's a pair of us. Now what way
do you propose we should endeavour to forget our sufferings?
CULCH. Well, we might spend the morning in St. Mark's----?
MISS T. The morning! Why, Poppa and I saw the entire show inside of ten
minutes, before breakfast!
CULCH. Ah! (_Discouraged._) What do you say to studying the Vine and
Fig-tree angles and the capitals of the arcades in the Ducal Palaces? I
will go and fetch the _Stones of Venice_.
[Illustration: "I GUESS YOU WANT TO COLOGNE _YOUR_ CHEEKS--THEY'RE
DREADFUL LUMPY."]
MISS T. I GUESS YOU CAN LEAVE THOSE OLD STONES IN PEACE. I DON'T FEEL
LIKE STUDYING UP ANYTHING THIS MORNING--IT'S AS MUCH AS EVER I CAN DO
NOT TO SCREAM ALOUD!
CULCH. Then shall we just drift about in a gondola all the morning,
and--er--perhaps do the Academy later?
MISS T. Not any canals in this hot sun for me! I'd be just as _sick_!
That gondola will keep till it's cooler.
CULCH. (_losing patience_). Then I must really leave it to you to make a
suggestion!
MISS T. Well, I believe I'll have a good look round the curiosity
stores. There's ever such a cunning little shop back of the Clock Tower
on the Pi-azza, where I saw some brocades that were just too sweet! So
I'll take Poppa along bargain-hunting. Don't _you_ come if you'd rather
poke around your old churches and things!
CULCH. I don't feel disposed to--er--"poke around" alone, so, if you
will allow me to accompany you,----
MISS T. Oh, I'll allow you to escort me. It's handy having some one
around to carry parcels. And Poppa's bound to drop the balance every
time!
CULCH. (_to himself_). That's all I am to her. A beast of burden! And a
whole precious morning squandered on this confounded shopping--when I
might have been--ah, well! [_Follows, under protest._
_On the Grand Canal._ 9 P.M. _A brilliant moonlight night; a
music-barge, hung with coloured lanterns, is moving slowly up towards
the Rialto, surrounded and followed by a fleet of gondolas, amongst
which is one containing the_ TROTTERS _and_ CULCHARD. CULCHARD _has just
discovered--with an embarrassment not wholly devoid of a certain
excitement--that they are drawing up to a gondola occupied by the_
PRENDERGASTS _and_ PODBURY.
MR. TROTTER (_meditatively_). It's real romantic. That's the third
deceased kitten I've seen to-night. They haven't only a two-foot tide in
the Adriatic, and it stands to reason all the sewage----
[_The two gondolas are jammed close alongside._
MISS P. How absolutely magical those palaces look in the moonlight! Bob,
how _can_ you yawn like that?
BOB. I beg your pardon, Patia, really, but we've had rather a long day
of it, you know!
MR. T. Well, now, I declare I sort of recognised those voices!
(_Heartily._) Why, how are _you_ getting along in Vernis? _We_'re
gettin' along fust-rate. Say, Maud, here's your friend alongside!
[MISS P. _presents a stony silence_.
MISS T. (_in an undertone_). I don't see how you _can_ act so,
Poppa,--when you know she's just as _mad_ with me!
MR. T. There! Dumned if I didn't clean forget you were out! But, see
here, now--why cann't we let bygones be bygones?
BOB. (_impulsively_). Just what _I_ think, Mr. Trotter, and I'm sure my
sister will----
MISS P. Bob, will you kindly not make the situation more awkward than it
is? If I desired a reconciliation, I think I am quite capable of saying
so!
MISS T. (_in confidence to the Moon_). This Ark isn't proposing to send
out any old dove, either--we've no use for an olive-branch. (_To_ MR.
T.) That's "_Santa Lucia_" they're singing now, Poppa.
MR. T. They don't appear to me to get the twist on it they did at
Bellagio!
MISS T. You mean that night Charley took us out on the Lake? Poor
Charley! he'd just love to be here--he's ever so much artistic feeling!
MR. T. Well, I don't see why he couldn't have come along if he'd wanted.
MISS T. (_with a glance at her neighbour_). I presume he'd reasons
enough. He's a vurry cautious man. Likely he was afraid he'd get bitten.
MISS P. (_after a swift scrutiny of_ MISS T.'S _features_). Oh, Bob,
remind me to get some more of that mosquito stuff. I _should_ so hate to
be bitten--such a _dreadful_ disfigurement!
MISS T. (_to the Moon_). I declare if I don't believe I can feel some
creature trying to sting me now!
MISS P. Some people are hardly recognisable, Bob, and they say the marks
never _quite_ disappear!
MISS T. Poppa, don't you wonder what Charley's doing just now? I'd like
to know if he's found any one yet to feel an interest in the great
Amurrcan Novel. It's curious how interested people do get in that novel,
considering it's none of it written, and never will be. I guess
sometimes he makes them believe he means something by it. They don't
understand it's only Charley's way!
MISS P. The crush isn't quite so bad now. Mr. Podbury, if you will
kindly ask your friend not to hold on to our gondola, we should probably
be better able to turn. (CULCHARD, _who had fondly imagined himself
undetected, takes his hand away as if it were scorched_.) Now we can get
away. (_To_ Gondolier.) Voltiamo, se vi piace, prestissimo!
[_The gondola turns and departs._
MISS T. Well, I do just enjoy making that Prendergast girl perfectly
wild, and that's a fact. (_Reflectively._) And it's queer, but I like
her ever so much all the time. Don't _you_ think that's too fonny of me,
Mr. Culchard, now? [CULCHARD _feigns a poetic abstraction_.