_CULCHARD, who has purchased a map in the Waterloo Museum as
a means of approaching Miss TROTTER, is pounced upon by an
elderly Belgian Guide in a blue blouse, from whom he finds it
difficult to escape._
_The Guide_ (_fixing CULCHARD with a pair of rheumy eyes and a
gnarled forefinger_). You see vere is dat schmall voodt near de vite
'ouse? not dere, along my shdeek--so. Dat is vare PEECTON vas kill,
Inglis Officer, PEECTON. Two days pefore he vas voundet in de ahum. 'E
say to his sairvan', "You dell ennipoddies, I keel you!" He vandt
to pe in ze bataille: he _vas_ in ze bataille--seven lance troo im,
seven; PEECTON, Inglis Officer. (_CULCHARD nods his head miserably._)
Hah, you 'ave de shart dere--open 'im out vide, dat de odder
shentilmans see. (_CULCHARD obeys, spell-bound._) Vare you see dat
blue gross, Vaterloo Shirshe, vere Loart UXBREEDGE lose 'is laig. Zey
cot 'im off and pury him in ze cott-yardt, and a villow grow oudt of
'im. 'E com 'ere to see the villow growing oudt of his laig.
_Culch._ (_abandoning his map, and edging towards Miss TROTTER_).
Hem--we are gazing upon one of the landmarks of our national
history--Miss TROTTER.
_Miss T._ That's a vurry interesting re-mark. I presume you must
have studied up some for a reflection of that kind. Mr. PODBURY, your
friend has been telling me-- [_She repeats CULCHARD's remark._
_Podb._ (_with interest_). Got any _more_ of those, old fellow?
[_CULCHARD moves away with disgusted hauteur._
_The Guide_ (_re-capturing him_). Along dat gross vay, VELLAINTON meet
BLUSHAIR. Prussian général, BLUSHAIR, VELLAINTON 'e com hier. I see
'im. Ven 'e see ze maundt 'e vos vair angri. 'E say, "Eet is no ze
battle-fiel' no more--I com back nevare!" Zat aidge is vere de
Scots Greys vas. Ven they dell NAPOLEON 'oo zey are, 'e say. "Fine
mens--splendid mens, I feenish dem in von hour!" SOULT 'e say, "Ah,
Sire, you do not know dose dairible grey 'orses!" NAPOLEON 'e _not_
know dem. SOULT 'e meet dem at de Peninsulaire--'e know dem. In dat
Shirsh, dventy, dirty dablets to Inglis officers. NAPOLEON 'e coaled
op 'is laift vink, zey deploy in line, vair you see my shdeek--ha, ze
shentelman is gone avay vonce more!
_Miss Trotter_ (_to CULCHARD, who has found himself unable to keep
away_). You don't seem to find that old gentleman vurry good company?
_Culch._ The fact is that I much prefer to receive my impressions of a
scene like this in solitude.
_Miss T._ _I_ should have thought you'd be too polite to tell me so;
but I was moving on, anyway.
[_She goes on. Before CULCHARD can follow and explain, he
finds himself accosted by Mr. TROTTER._
_Mr. T._ I don't know as I'm as much struck by this Waterloo field as
I expected, Sir. As an Amurrcan, I find it doesn't come up to some of
our battlefields in the War. We don't blow about those battlefields,
Sir, but for style and general picturesqueness, I ain't seen nothing
_this_ side to equal them. You ever been over? You want to come over
and see our country--that's what _you_ want to do. You mustn't mind me
a-running on, but when I meet someone as I can converse with in my own
language--well, I just about talk myself dry.
[_He talks himself dry, until rejoined by the Guide with
PODBURY and Miss TROTTER._
_Guide_ (_to PODBURY_). Leesten, I dell you. My vader--eighteen, no in
ze Airmi, laboreur man--he see NAPOLÉON standt in a saircle; officers
roundt 'im. Boots, op to hier; green cott; vite vaiscott; vite laigs--
_Podbury_. Your father's legs?
_Guide_. No, Sare; my vader see NAPOLÉON's laigs; leedle 'at, qvite
plain; no faither--nossing.
_Podbury_. But you just said you _had_ a faither!
_Guide_. I say, NAPOLÉON 'ad no faither--vat you call it?--_plume_--in
'is 'at, at ze bataille.
_Podbury_. Are you sure? I thought the history books said he "stuck a
feather in his hat, and called it Macaroni."
_Miss T._ I presume you're thinking of our National Amurrcan
character, Yankee Doodle?
_Guide_. My vader, 'e no see NAPOLÉON viz a Yankedoodle in 'is 'at; 'e
vear nossing.
_Podbury_. Nothing? What became of the green coat and white waistcoat,
then, eh?
_Guide_. Ah, you unnerstan' nossing at all! Leesten, I dell you vonce
more. My vader--
_Podbury_. No, look here, my friend; you go and tell _that_ gentleman
all about it (_indicating CULCHARD_); he's very interested in hearing
what NAPOLEON wore or didn't wear.
[_The Guide takes possession of CULCHARD once more,
who submits, under the impression that Miss TROTTER is a
fellow-sufferer._
_Guide_ (_concluding a vivid account of the fight at Houguymont_).
Bot ven zey com qvite nearer, zey vind ze rade line no ze Inglis
soldiers--nossing bot a breek vall, viz ze moskets--'Prown Pesses,'
you coal dem--shdeekin out of ze 'oles! Ze 'oles schdill dere. Dat vas
Houguymont, in the orshairde. Now you com viz me and see ze lion. Ze
dail, two piece; ze bodi, von piece; ze ball, von piece. I sank you,
Sare. 'Ope you com again soon.
[_CULCHARD discovers that the TROTTERS and PODBURY have
gone down some time ago. At the foot of the steps he finds his
friend waiting for him, alone._
_Culch_. (_with stiff politeness_). Sorry you considered it necessary
to stay behind on my account. I see your American friends have already
started for the station.
_Podbury_ (_gloomily_). There were only two seats on that coach, and
they wouldn't wait for the next. I don't know why, unless it was that
they saw you coming down the steps. She can't stand you at any price.
_Culch._ (_with some heat_). Just as likely she had had enough of your
buffoonery!
_Podb._ (_with provoking good humour_). Come, old chap, don't get your
shirt out with me. Not my fault if she's found out you think yourself
too big a swell for her, is it?
_Culch._ (_hotly_). When did I say so--or think so? It's what you've
told her about me, and I must say I call it--
_Podb._ Don't talk bosh! Who said she was forward and bad form and all
the rest of it in the courtyard that first evening? She was close by,
and heard every word of it, I shouldn't wonder.
_Culch._ (_colouring_). It's not of vital importance if she did.
(_Whistling._) Few-fee-fee-foo-foodle-di-fee-di-fa-foo.
_Podb._ Not a bit--to her. Better step out if we mean to catch that
train. (_Humming._) La-di-loodle-lumpty-leedle-um-ti-loo!
[_They step out, PODBURY humming pleasantly and CULCHARD
whistling viciously, without further conversation, until they
arrive at Braine l'Alleud Station--and discover that they have
just missed their train._
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE TWO EMPERORS; OR, THE CHRISTIAN CZAR AND THE
HEATHEN CHINEE.]
* * * * *