SCENE--_The Campo S.S. Giovanni e Paolo. Afternoon. CULCHARD
is leaning against the pedestal of the Colleoni Statue_.
_Podbury_ (_who has just come out of S. Giovanni, recognising
CULCHARD_). Hullo! _alone_, eh? Thought you were with Miss TROTTER?
_Culchard_. So I am. That is, she is going over a metal-worker's
show-room close by, and I--er--preferred the open air. But didn't you
say you were going out with the--er--PRENDERGASTS again?
_Podb._ So I am. She's in the Church with BOB, so I said I'd come out
and keep an eye on the gondola. Nothing much to see in _there_, you
know!
_Culch._ (_with a weary irony_). Only the mausoleums of the
Doges--RUSKIN's "Street of the Tombs"--and a few trifles of that sort!
[Illustration: "I guess you're about the most unselfish Saint on two
legs!"]
_Podb._ That's all. And I'm feeling a bit done, you know. Been doing
the Correr Museum all the morning, and not lunched yet! So Miss
TROTTER's looking at ornamental metal-work? Rather fun that, eh?
_Culch._ For those who enjoy it. She has only been in there an hour,
so she is not likely to come back just yet. What do you say to coming
into S.S. Giovanni e Paolo again, with _me_? Those tombs form a really
remarkable illustration, as RUSKIN points out, of the gradual decay
of--
_Miss Trotter_ (_suddenly flutters up, followed by an attendant
carrying a studded halberd, an antique gondola-hook, and two copper
water-buckets--all of which are consigned to the disgusted CULCHARD_).
Just hold these a spell till I come back. Thanks ever so much....
Well, Mr. PODBURY! Aren't you going to admire my purchases? They're
real antique--or if they aren't, they'll wear all the better....
There, I believe I'll just have to run back a minute--don't you put
those things in the gondola yet, Mr. CULCHARD, or they'll get stolen.
[_She flutters off._
_Culch._ (_helplessly, as he holds the halberd, &c._). I suppose I
shall have to stay _here_ now. You're not going?
_Podb._ (_consulting his watch_). Must. Promised old BOB I'd relieve
guard in ten minutes. Ta-ta!
[_He goes; presently BOB PRENDERGAST lounges out of the
church._
_Culch._ If I could only make a friend of _him_! (_To BOB._) Ah,
PRENDERGAST! lovely afternoon, isn't it? Delicious breeze!
_Bob_. (_shortly_). Can't say. Not had much of it, at present.
_Culch._ You find these old churches rather oppressive, I daresay.
Er--will you have a cigarette? [_Tenders case._
_Bob_. Thanks; got a pipe. (_He lights it._) Where's Miss TROTTER?
_Culch._ She will be here presently. By the way, my dear PRENDERGAST,
this--er--misunderstanding between your sister and her is very
unfortunate.
_Bob_. I know that well enough. It's none of _my_ doing! And _you_'ve
no reason to complain, at all events!
_Culch._ Quite so. Only, you see, we _used_ to be good friends at
Constance, and--er--until recently--
_Bob_. Used we? Of course, if you say so, it's all right. But what are
you driving at exactly?
_Culch._ All I am driving at is this: Couldn't we two--er--agree to
effect a reconciliation between the two ladies? So much pleasanter
for--er--all parties!
_Bob_. I daresay. But how are you going to set about it? _I_ can't
begin.
_Culch._ Couldn't you induce your sister to lay aside
her--er--prejudice against me? Then _I_ could easily--
_Bob_. Very likely--but I _couldn't_. I never interfere in my sister's
affairs, and, to tell you the honest truth, I don't feel particularly
inclined to make a beginning on your account. [_Strolls away._
_Culch._ (_to himself_). What a surly boor it is! But I don't
care--I'll do him a good turn, in spite of himself! (_Miss T.
returns_.) Do you know, I've just been having a chat with poor young
PRENDERGAST. He seems quite cut up at being forced to side with his
sister. I undertook to--er--intercede for him. Now is it quite
fair, or like your--er--usual good-nature, to visit his sister's
offences--whatever they are--on him? I--I only put it to you.
_Miss T._ Well, to think now! I guess you're about the most unselfish
Saint on two legs! Now some folks would have felt jealous.
_Culch._ Possibly--but I cannot accuse myself of such a failing as
that.
_Miss T._ I'd just like to hear you accuse yourself of _any_ failing!
I don't see however you manage to act so magnanimous and live. I told
you I wanted to study your character, and I believe it isn't going to
take me vurry much longer to make up my mind about _you_. You _don't_
suppose I'll have any time for Mr. PRENDERGAST after getting such a
glimpse into your nature? There, help me into the gondola, and don't
talk any more about it. Tell him to go to Salviati's right away.
_Culch._ (_dejectedly, to himself_). I've bungled it! I might have
_known_ I should only make matters worse!
_On the Piazzetta; it is moonlight, the Campanile and dome of
San Giorgio Maggiore are silhouetted sharp and black against
the steel-blue sky across a sea of silver ripples. PODBURY
and CULCHARD are pacing slowly arm-in-arm between the two
columns._
_Culch._ And so you went on to S. Giovanni in Bragora, eh? then over
the Arsenal, and rowed across the lagoons to see the Armenian convent?
A delightful day, my dear PODBURY! I hope you--er--appreciate the
inestimable privileges of--of seeing Venice so thoroughly?
_Podb._ Oh, of course it's very jolly. Find I get a trifle mixed
afterwards, though. And, between ourselves, I wouldn't mind--now and
then, you know--just dawdling about among the shops and people, as you
and the TROTTERS do!
_Culch._ That has its charms, no doubt. But don't you find Miss
PRENDERGAST a mine of information on Italian Art and History?
_Podb._ Don't I just--rather too _deep_ for me, y' know! I say, isn't
Miss TROTTER immense sport in the shops and that!
_Culch._ She is--er--vivacious, certainly. (_PODBURY sighs_.) You seem
rather dull to-night, my dear fellow?
_Podb._ Not dull--a trifle out of sorts, that's all. Fact is, I don't
think Venice agrees with me. All this messing about down beastly
back-courts and canals and in stuffy churches--it _can't_ be healthy,
you know! And they've _no_ drainage. I only hope I haven't caught
something, as it is. I've that kind of sinking feeling, and a general
lowness--_She_ says I lunch too heavily--but I swear it's more than
that!
_Culch._ Nonsense, you're well enough. And why you should feel low,
with all your advantages--in Venice as you are, and in constant
intercourse with a mind adorned with every feminine gift!
_Podb._ Hul-lo! why, I thought you called her a pedantic prig?
_Culch._ If I used such a term at all, it was in no disparaging sense.
Every earnest nature presents an--er--priggish side at times. I know
that even I myself have occasionally, and by people who didn't _know_
me, of course, been charged with priggishness.
_Podb._ Have you, though? But of course there's nothing of that about
_her_. Only--well, it don't signify. [_He sighs._
_Culch._ Ah, PODBURY, take the good the gods provide you and be
content! You might be worse off, believe me!
_Podb._ (_discontentedly_). It's all very well for _you_ to talk--with
Miss TROTTER all to yourself. I suppose you're regularly engaged by
this time, eh?
_Culch._ Not quite. There's still a ----. And your probation, that's
practically at an end?
_Podb._ I don't know. Can't make her out. She wouldn't sit on me the
way she does unless she _liked_ me, I suppose. But I say, it must be
awf--rather jolly for you with Miss TROTTER? She's got so much _go_,
eh?
_Culch._ You used to say she wasn't what you call cultivated.
_Podb._ I know I did. That's just what I like about her! At
least--well, we _both_ ought to think ourselves uncommonly lucky
beggars, I'm sure! [_He sighs more heavily than ever._
_Culch._ You especially, my dear PODBURY. In fact, I doubt if you're
half grateful enough!
_Podb._ (_snappishly_). Yes, I am, I tell you. _I_'m not grumbling,
am I? I know as well as you do she's miles too good for me. Haven't I
_said_ so? Then what the devil do you keep on nagging at me for, eh?
_Culch._ I am glad you see it in that light. Aren't you a little
irritable to-night?
_Podb._ No, I'm not. It's those filthy canals. And the way you
talk--as if a girl like Miss TROTTER wasn't--!
_Culch._ I really can't allow you to lecture me. I am not insensible
to my good-fortune--if others are. Now we'll drop the subject.
_Podb._ I'm willing enough to drop it. And I shall turn in now--it's
late. You coming?
_Culch._ Not yet. Good-night. (_To himself, as PODBURY departs._)
You insensate _dolt_!
_Podb._ Good-night! (_To himself, as he swings off._) Confounded
patronising _prig_!
* * * * *