The Travelling Companions Part 29

CHAPTER XXVI.

+Podbury Kisses the Rod.+

SCENE--_On the Lagoons._ CULCHARD _and_ PODBURY'S _gondola is nearing Venice. The apricot-tinted diaper on the facade of the Ducal Palace is already distinguishable, and behind its battlements the pearl-grey domes of St. Mark's s.h.i.+mmer in the warm air._ CULCHARD _and_ PODBURY _have hardly exchanged a sentence as yet. The former has just left off lugubriously whistling as much as he can remember of "Che faro," the latter is still humming "The Dead March in Saul," although in a livelier manner than at first_.

CULCH. Well, my dear Podbury, our--er--expedition has turned out rather disastrously!

PODB. (_suspending the_ "_Dead March_," _chokily_). Not much mistake about _that_--but there, it's no good talking about it. Jolly that brown and yellow sail looks on the fruit barge there. See?

CULCH. (_sardonically_). Isn't it a little late in the day to be cultivating an eye for colour? I was about to say that those two girls have treated us infamously. I say deliberately, my dear Podbury, _infamously_!

PODB. Now drop it, Culchard, do you hear? I won't hear a word against either of them. It serves us jolly well right for not knowing our own minds better--though I no more dreamed that old Bob would----Oh, hang it, I can't talk about it yet!

CULCH. That's childishness, my dear fellow; you _ought_ to talk about it--it will do you good. And really, I'm not at all sure, after all, that we have not both of us had a fortunate escape. One is very apt to--er--overrate the fascinations of persons one meets abroad. Now neither of those two was _quite_----

PODB. (_desperately_). Take care! I swear I'll pitch you out of this gondola, unless you stop that jabber!

CULCH. (_with wounded dignity_). I am willing to make allowance for your state of mind, Podbury, but such an expression as--as _jabber_, applied to my--er--well-meant attempts at consolation, and just as I was about to propose an arrangement--really, it's _too_ much! The moment we reach the hotel, I will relieve you from any further infliction from (_bitterly_) what you are pleased to call my "jabber"!

PODB. (_sulkily_). Very well--I'm sure _I_ don't care! (_To himself._) Even old Culchard won't have anything to do with me now! I must have _somebody_ to talk to--or I shall go off my head! (_Aloud._) I say, old _chap_! (_No answer._) Look here--it's bad enough as it is without _our_ having a row! Never mind anything I said.

CULCH. I _do_ mind--I _must_. I am not accustomed to hear myself called a--a _jabberer_!

PODB. I _didn't_ call you a jabberer--I only said you _talked_ jabber.

I--I hardly know what I _do_ say, when I'm like this. And I'm deuced sorry I spoke--there!

CULCH. (_relaxing_). Well, do you withdraw jabber?

PODB. Certainly, old chap. I _like_ you to talk, only not--not against Her, you know! What were you going to propose?

CULCH. Well, my idea was this. My leave is practically unlimited--at least, without vanity, I think I may say that my Chief sufficiently appreciates my services not to make a fuss about a few extra days. So I thought I'd just run down to Florence and Naples, and perhaps catch a P.

& O. at Brindisi. I suppose _you're_ not tied to time in any way?

PODB. (_dolefully_). Free as a bird! If the Governor had wanted me back in the City, he'd have let me know it. Well?

CULCH. Well, if you like to come with me, I--I shall be very pleased to have your company.

PODB. (_considering_). I don't care if I do--it may cheer me up a bit.

Florence, eh?--and Naples? I shouldn't mind a look at Florence. Or Rome.

How about Rome, now?

CULCH. (_to himself_). Was I wise to expose myself to this sort of thing _again_? I'm almost sorry I----(_Aloud._) My dear fellow, if we are to travel together in any sort of comfort, you must leave all details to _me_. And there's one thing I _do_ insist on. In future we must keep to our original resolution--not to be drawn into any chance acquaintances.h.i.+p. I don't want to reproach you, but if, when we were first at Brussels, you had not allowed yourself to get so intimate with the Trotters all this would never----

PODB. (_exasperated_). There you go again! I can't stand being jawed at, Culchard, and I won't!

CULCH. I am no more conscious of "jawing" than "jabbering," and if _that_ is how I am to be spoken to----!

PODB. I know. Look here, it's no use. You must go to Florence by yourself. I simply don't feel up to it, and that's the truth. I shall just potter about here till--till _they_ go.

CULCH. As you choose. I gave you the opportunity--out of kindness. If you prefer to make yourself ridiculous by hanging about here, it's no concern of mine. I dare say I shall enjoy Florence at least as well by myself.

[_He sulks until they arrive at the Hotel Dandolo, where they are received on the steps by the_ PORTER.

PORTER. Goot afternoon, Schendlemen. You have a bleasant dimes at Torcello, yes? Ach! you haf gif your gondoliers vifdeen franc? Zey schvindle you, oal ze gondoliers alvays schvindles eferypody, yes! Zere is som ledders for you. I vetch them. [_He bustles away._

MR. BELLERBY (_suddenly emerging from a recess in the entrance, as he recognizes_ CULCHARD). Why, bless me, there's a face I know! Met at Lugano, didn't we? To be sure--very pleasant chat we had too! So you're at Venice, eh? I know every stone of it by heart, as I needn't say. The first time I was ever at Venice----

CULCH. (_taking a bulky envelope from the_ PORTER). Just so--how are you? Er--will you excuse me?

[_He opens the envelope, and finds a blue official-looking enclosure, which he reads with a gradually lengthening countenance._

MR. B. (_as_ CULCHARD _thrusts the letter angrily in his pocket_).

You're new to Venice, I think? Well, just let me give you a word of advice.

[Ill.u.s.tration: READS WITH A GRADUALLY LENGTHENING COUNTENANCE.]

Now you _are_ here--you make them give you some tunny. Insist on it, Sir. Why, when I was here first----

CULCH. (_impatiently_). I know. I mean, you told me that before. And I _have_ tasted tunny.

MR. B. Ha! well, what did you think of it? _Delicious_, eh?

CULCH. (_forgetting all his manners_). Beastly, Sir, _beastly_!

[_Leaves the scandalized_ MR. B. _abruptly, and rushes off to get a telegram form at the bureau._

MR. CRAWLEY STRUTT (_pouncing on_ PODBURY _in the hall, as he finishes the perusal of his letter_). Excuse me--but surely I have the honour of addressing Lord George Gumbleton? You may perhaps just recollect, my Lord----?

PODB. (_blankly_). Think you've made a mistake, really.

MR. C. S. Is it possible! I have come across so many people while I've been away that--but surely we have met _somewhere_? Why, of course, Sir John Jubber! you must pardon me, Sir John----

PODB. (_recognizing him_). My name's Podbury--plain Podbury, but you're quite right. You _have_ met me--and you've met my bootmaker too, "Lord Uppersole," eh? That's where the mistake came in!

MR. C. S. (_with hauteur_). I think not, Sir; I have no recollection of the circ.u.mstance. I see now your face is quite unfamiliar to me.

[_He moves away_; PODBURY _gets a telegram form and sits down at a table in the hall opposite_ CULCHARD.

CULCH. (_reading over his telegram_). "Yours just received. Am returning immediately."

PODB. (_do., do._). "Letter to hand. No end sorry. Start at once."

(_Seeing_ CULCHARD.) Writing to Florence for room, eh?

CULCH. Er--no. The fact is, I've just heard from my Chief--a--a most intemperate communication, insisting on my instant return to my duties!

I shall have to humour him, I suppose, and leave at once.