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._
_Podbury_. 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.
[Illustration: "I guess you want to Cologne _your_ cheeks!"]
_Miss Prendergast_t (_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 one--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 around 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 daresay 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. Anyone 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 endeavor 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 I 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 Palace? I
will go and fetch the _Stones of Venice_.
_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 someone
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. preserves 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! Electrocuted 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 anyone 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 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._
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[Illustration: OVER TIME IN LEAP YEAR.]
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