SCENE--_A flight of steps by the lake in the grounds of the
Insel Hotel, Constance. Time, late afternoon. A small boat,
containing three persons, is just visible far out on the
glassy grey-green water. BOB PRENDERGAST and PODBUBY are
perched side by side on a parapet, smoking disconsolately._
_Podbury._ Do they look at all as if they meant to come in? I tell you
what, BOB, vote we row out to them and tell them they'll be late for
_table d'hôte_. Eh? [_He knocks out his pipe._
_Prendergast_ (_phlegmatically_). Only be late for it ourselves if we
do. They'll come in when they want to.
_Podb._ It's not safe for your sister,--I'm hanged if it is--going
out in a boat with a duffer like CULCHARD! He'll upset her as sure as
eggs.
_Prend._ (_with fraternal serenity_). With pin-oars? Couldn't if he
tried! And they've a man with them, too. The less I see of that chap
CULCHARD the better. I did hope we'd choked him off at Nuremberg. I
hate the sight of his supercilious old mug!
_Podb._ You can't hate it more than I do--but what can I do?
(_Pathetically._) I've tried rotting him, but somehow he always
manages to get the best of it in the end. I never saw such a beggar to
hang on!
[Illustration: "Gets up and quits the room with dignity."]
_Prend._ What on earth made you ask him to come on here, after he
declared he wouldn't?
_Podb._ I! _I_ ask him? He settled it all with your sister. How could
_I_ help it?
_Prend._ I'd do _something_. Why can't you tell him right out he ain't
wanted? _I_ would--like a shot!
_Podb._ It's not so easy to tell him as you think. We haven't been
on speaking terms these three days. And, after all (_feebly_) we're
supposed to be travelling together, don't you know! _You_ might drop
him a hint now.
_Prend._ Don't see how I can very well--not on my own hook. Might lead
to ructions with HYPATIA, too.
_Podb._ (_anxiously_). BOB, you--you don't think your sister
really--eh?
_Prend._ HYPATIA's a rum girl--always was. She certainly don't seem to
object to your friend CULCHARD. What the dickens she can see in him,
I don't know!--but it's no use my putting _my_ oar in. She'd only jump
on _me_, y'know!
_Podb._ (_rising_). Then I _must_. If that's what he's really after,
I think I can stop his little game. I'll try, at any rate. It's a long
worm that has no turning, and I've had about enough of it. The first
chance I get. I'll go for him.
_Prend._ Good luck to you, old chap. There, they're coming in now.
We'd better go in and change, eh? We've none too much time.
[_They go in._
_In the Lese-zimmer, a small gaslit room, with glazed doors
opening upon the Musik-saal. Around a table piled with German
and English periodicals, a mild Curate, the Wife of the English
Chaplain, and two Old Maids are seated, reading and conversing.
CULCHARD is on a central ottoman, conscientiously deciphering
the jokes in "Fliegende Blätter." PODBURY is at the bookcase,
turning over odd TAUCHNITZ volumes._
_The Chaplain's Wife_ (_to the Curate, a new arrival_). Oh, you will
_very_ soon get into all our little ways. The hours here are _most_
convenient--breakfast (_table d'hôte_) with choice of eggs or fish and
coffee--really _admirable_ coffee--from eight to nine; midday dinner
at one. Supper at nine. Then, if you want to write a letter, the post
for England goes out at--(_&c., &c._) And on Sundays, eleven
o'clock service (Evangelical, of _course_!) at the--(_&c., &c._) My
husband--(_&c., &c._)
_First Old Maid_ (_looking up from a four days old "Telegraph"_). I
see they are still continuing that very interesting correspondence on
"Our Children's Mouths--and are they widening?" One letter attributes
it to the habit of thumb--sucking in infancy--which certainly ought to
be checked. Now I never _would_ allow any--
_The Chaplain's Wife_. Nor I. But corals are quite as bad. Only this
afternoon I was telling a Lady in this hotel that her little boy would
be much happier with a rubber ring. You get them at a shop in the
Hoch-strasse I can take you to it at any time, or if you like to
mention my name--(_&c., &c._)
_Second O.M._ One correspondent thought the practice of eating soup
with table-spoons tended to enlarge the mouth. I really believe there
may be something in it. [_A pause._
_The Curate_. The weather we have been having seems to have materially
affected the harvest prospects at home; they say there will be little
or no fodder for the cattle this year. I saw somewhere--I forget where
it was exactly--a suggestion to feed cows on chickweed.
_Podb._ (_at the bookcase_). Capital thing for them too, Sir. Know a
man who never gives his cattle anything else.
_The Curate_. Oh, really? And does he find the experiment answer?
_Podb._ They take to it like birds. And--curious thing--after he'd
tried it a month, all the cows turned yellow and went about chirping
and twittering and hopping. Fact, I assure you!
_The Curate_. Dear me--I should scarcely have--
[_He gradually comes to the conclusion that he is being
trifled with, and after a few moments of uncomfortable
silence, gets up and quits the room with dignity._
_Podb._ (_to himself_). _One_ of 'em gone! Now if I can only clear
these old tabbies out, I can tackle CULCHARD. (_Aloud, to Chaplain's
Wife._) You don't happen to know if there's a good doctor here, I
suppose? A lady was saying in the Musik-saal--the lady with the three
daughters who came this afternoon--that she was afraid they were in
for bad feverish colds or something, and asking who there was to call
in.
_The C.'s W._ Oh, I've no belief in foreign doctors. I always find a
few drops of aconite or pulsatilla,--I have my homoeopathic case with
me now. Perhaps, if I went and had a talk with her I could--[_She goes
out energetically._
_Podb._ Another gone! (_To the Old Maids._) So you ain't going down
to the Cloisters to-night? I'm told there's to be some fun
there--Hide-and-seek, or something--first-rate place for it,
especially now the moon's up!
_First Old Maid_. Nobody told _us_ a word about it. Hide-and-seek--and
in those quaint old Cloisters too--It sounds delightful! What do you
say, TABITHA. Shall we just--? Only to look _on_, you know. We needn't
_play_, unless--
[_The Two Old Maids withdraw in a pleased flutter. PODBURY
crosses to CULCHARD._
_Podb._ (_with determination_). Look here, CULCHARD, I'd just like to
know what you mean by the way you're going on.
_Culch._ I thought we were both agreed that discussions of this kind--
_Podb._ It's all bosh our travelling together if we're not to have any
discussions. You've been on the sulk long enough. And I'll thank
you to inform me what you're after here, going about alone with Miss
PRENDERGAST like this, in the Museum with her all the morning, and on
the lake again this afternoon,--it won't _do_, you know!
_Culch._ If she happens to prefer my society to yours and her
brother's, I presume you have no claim to interfere.
_Podb._ I don't know about that. How about Miss TROTTER?
_Culch._ If I remember rightly, you yourself were not insensible to
Miss TROTTER's--er--attractions?
_Podb._ Perhaps not; but I am not engaged to her--you _are_. You told
me so in the train.
_Culch._ You entirely misunderstood me. There was no definite
understanding between us--nothing of the sort or kind. In fact, it was
merely a passing caprice. Since I have had the privilege of knowing
Miss PRENDERGAST, I see clearly--
_Podb._ Then you mean to propose to her, eh?
_Culch._ That is certainly my intention; have you any objection to
offer?
_Podb._ Only that I mean to propose too. I daresay my chances are as
good as yours--even now.
_Culch._ I doubt it, my dear fellow; however, don't let _me_
discourage you.
_Podb._ I don't intend to. (_The figure of Miss PRENDERGAST is seen
to pass the glazed doors, and move slowly across the Musik-saal;
both rush to the door, and look after her._) She's gone out into the
balcony. 'Jove, I'll go, too, and get it over!
_Culch._ I should not advise you to do so. It is possible she may have
gone there with the--er--expectation of being joined by--by somebody
else. [_He smiles complacently._
_Podb._ You mean she gave you a _rendezvous_ there? I don't believe
it!
_Culch._ I did not say so. But I am not prepared to deny that I have
been waiting here with some such expectation.
_Podb._ (_holding the door_). If you go, I go too--that's all.
_Culch._ Don't be absurd. You will only be _de trop_, I assure you.
_Podb._ _De trop_ or not, I mean going--she shall choose between us.
_Culch._ (_turning pale_). I suppose you intend to enlighten her as to
my--er--little flirtation (before I knew _her_) with Miss TROTTER? Do
it, PODBURY, do it--if you think you'll gain any good by it!
_Podb._ Telling tales is not exactly in my line. But you don't go on
that balcony without me--that's all.
_Culch._ Well, listen to reason, my dear fellow. What you propose is
ridiculous. I--I don't mind conceding this: we'll each go, and--er tit
up, as you call it, which goes first.
_Podb._ Done with you! (_Produces a mark._) Sudden death. You're
Eagle--I'm the other Johnny. (_Tosses._) Eagle! Confound you! But I
mean to have my innings all the same.
_Culch._ You're perfectly welcome--when I've had mine. I'll--er--wish
you good evening.
[_He stalks out triumphantly. PODBURY places himself in a
position from which he can command a view of the Musik-saal,
over the top of "über Land und Meer," and awaits results._
* * * * *