Those travelled youths whom tender mothers wean
And send abroad to see and to be seen,
Have made all Europe's vices so well known,
They seem almost as natural as our own.--_Churchill_.
On the next morning, Vinal, Morton, and two other young Americans were
seated together in the coffee room at Meurice's. They were discussing
plans of travel.
"Then you don't intend to stay long in Paris," said one of the
strangers to Morton.
"Not at present. I shall set out in a few days for Vienna, and then go
down the Danube."
"That's an original idea. What will you find there worth seeing?"
"It's a fancy of mine. There is no place in Europe where one can see
such a conglomerate of nations and races as in the provinces along the
Danube. I like to see the human animal in all his varieties,--that's
my specialty."
"But what facilities will you find there for travelling?"
"O, I shall be content with any that offer; the vehicles of the
country, whatever they are. I don't believe in travelling _en grand
seigneur_. By mixing with the people, and doing at Rome as the Romans
do, one learns in a month more than he could learn in ten years by the
other way."
"You'll take your servant with you, I suppose."
"No. I shall discharge him when I leave Paris."
After conversing for some time longer, Morton and the two young men
left the room, while Vinal still remained faithful to the attractions
of his omelet. He was interrupted by the advent of the small man who
had accosted Morton in the steamer, and had since favored him with his
company from Liverpool to Paris.
"Well, here's a pretty business, damned if there isn't," said the new
arrival, seating himself indignantly.
"What's the matter?" asked Vinal.
"What's the matter! Why, there's a good deal the matter. There was a
young man in Philadelphy named Wilkins,--John Wilkins,--I've known him
ever sence he was knee high to a toad, and a likelier young feller
there isn't in the States. He was goin' on to make a right smart,
active, business man, too. Well, he was clerk in one of the biggest
drug concerns south of New York city,--Gooch and Scammony,--I tell
you, they do a tall business out west, and no mistake. No, _sir_,
Gooch and Scammony ain't hardly got their beat in the drug business
nowhere."
"But what about the clerk?"
"What about him? Why, that's just what I was going on to tell you.
Well, John, he had a little money laid up; so he thought he'd just
come out and see a bit of the world. Well, there was a German there at
Philadelphy who had to cut stick from the old country on account of
some political muss or other. John and he worn't on good terms;--it
was about a gal, John says. However, jest about the time John talked
of coming out to Europe, the German comes and makes it up, and
pretends to be friends again. 'John,' says he, 'I've got relations out
to Vienny, where I come from; first-rate, genteel folks; now,' says
he, 'perhaps you might like me to make you acquainted with 'em. They'd
do the handsome thing by you, and no mistake.' 'Well,' says John, 'I
don't mind if you do.' So the German gives him some letters; and, sure
enough, they treated him very civil; but the very next morning, before
he was out of bed, up comes the police, and carries him off to jail;
and that, I guess, would have been about the last we'd ever have seen
of John Wilkins, if, by the slimmest ghost of a chance, he hadn't got
word to our minister, and the minister blowed out so hard about it,
that they just let John go, and said they was very sorry, and it was
all a mistake, but he'd better make tracks out of Austria in double
quick time, because if he didn't, they didn't know as there was any
body there would undertake to be responsible for what might happen."
Here the orator's breath quite failed, and he coughed till his hatchet
face turned blue. Vinal reflected in silence.
"Wasn't he an Amerikin?" pursued the small man, "and didn't he have an
Amerikin passport in his pocket? I expect to go where I please, and
keep what company I please,--uh,--uh,--uh. I'm an Amerikin,--uh,--and
that's enough; and a considerable wide margin to
spare,--uh,--uh,--uh."
"But what evidence is there that the German had any thing to do with
the affair?"
"That's the deused part of the business. There ain't no evidence to
fix it on him."
"Were the letters he gave your friend sealed?"
"Not a bit of it. They was open, and read jest as fair as need be."
"Probably he was imprudent, and said something which compromised him.
Stone walls, you know, have ears in Austria."
"Well, I don't know."
"It is very easy for an American to get into trouble with the Austrian
government. There is a natural antipathy between them."
"Damn such a government."
"Exactly; you're quite right there."
"Why, if you or me was to go down to Austria, and happen to rip out
what we thought of 'em, where's the guarantee that they wouldn't stick
us down in some of their prisons, and nobody be any wiser for it?"
"There is no guarantee at all."
"I've heerd said that such things has happened."
"No doubt of it. About this German,--I should advise your friend to be
cautious how he accuses him of any intention of having him arrested.
If the letters had been sealed, there might have been some ground for
suspicion; but as the case stands, I do not see how there can be any.
And it is a little hard upon a man, when he meant to do a kindness, to
charge him with playing such a trick as that."
"Well, it may be as you think. It looks like enough, any way."
The small man addressed himself to his breakfast. Vinal sat playing
with his spoon, his brain filled with busy and feverish thoughts.
In a few minutes, a messenger from an American banking house came in,
looking about the room as if in search of some person. Observing
Vinal, whom he had seen before, he asked if he knew where Mr. Morton
was.
"Letters there for me?" demanded Vinal, taking several which the
messenger held in his hand, and glancing over the directions.
"No, sir, they are all Mr. Morton's."
At that instant Vinal discovered the well-remembered handwriting of
Edith Leslie. His pale face grew a shade paler.
"O, Mr. Morton's! I don't know where you will find him," and he gave
back the letters to the messenger, who presently left the room.
Vinal sat for a few minutes more, brooding in silence; then slowly
rose, and walked away. In going towards the room of the hotel which he
occupied, he passed along a corridor, opposite the end of which opened
a parlor occupied by Morton. The door was open, and Vinal, as he
advanced, could plainly see his rival within. Morton had been on the
point of going out. His hat and gloves lay on the table at his side;
near them were three or four sealed letters; another--Vinal well knew
from whom--was open in his hands; and as he stood bending over it,
there was a sunlight in the eye of the successful lover which shot
deadly envy into the breast of Vinal. Hate and jealousy gnawed and
rankled at his heart.