Part 2 (2/2)
PODB. (_awkwardly_). Oh--er--I wouldn't say that, but he's a queer kind of chap rather, takes prejudices into his head and all that. I wouldn't trouble about him if I were you--not worth it, y' know.
MISS T. Thanks--but it isn't going to shorten my existence any.
[CULCH. _overhears all this, with feelings that may be imagined._
BELGIAN DRIVER (_to his horses_). Pullep! Allez vite! Bom-bom-bom!
Alright!
CONDUCTOR (_to_ CULCHARD). 'E's very proud of 'is English, _'e_ is.
'Ere, Jewls, ole feller, show the gen'lm'n 'ow yer can do a swear.
(_Belgian Driver utters a string of English imprecations with the utmost fluency and good-nature._) 'Ark at 'im now! Bust my frogs! (_Admiringly, and not_ _without a sense of the appropriateness of the phrase._) But he's a caution, Sir, ain't he? _I_ taught him most o' what he knows!
A FRENCH Pa.s.sENGER (_to_ CONDUCTOR). Dis donc, mon ami, est-ce qu'on peut voir d'ici le champ de bataille?
COND. (_with proper pride_). It ain't no use your torkin _to me_, Mossoo; I don't speak no French myself. (_To_ CULCHARD.) See that field there, Sir?
CULCH. (_interested_). On the right? Yes; what happened _there_?
COND. Fine lot o' rabbits inside o' there--big fat 'uns. (_To another Pa.s.senger._) No, Sir, that ain't Belly Lions as you see from 'ere; that's Mon Sin Jeean, and over there Oogymong, and Challyroy to the left.
ON THE TOP OF THE MOUND.
CULCHARD, _who has purchased a map in the Waterloo Museum as a means of approaching_ MISS TROTTER, _is pounced upon by an elderly Belgian Guide in a blue blouse, from whom he finds it difficult to escape._
THE GUIDE (_fixing_ CULCHARD _with a pair of rheumy eyes and a gnarled forefinger_). You see vere is dat schmall voodt near de vite 'ouse? not dere, along my shdeek--so. Dat is vare Peecton vas kill, Inglis Officer, Peecton. Two days pefore he was voundet in de ahum. 'E say to his sairvan', ”You dell ennipoddies, I keel you!” He vandt to pe in ze bataille: he _vas_ in ze bataille--seven lance troo 'im, seven; Peecton, Inglis Officer. (CULCHARD _nods his head miserably._) Hah, you 'ave de shart dere--open 'im out vide, dat de odder shentilmans see. (CULCHARD _obeys, spell-bound._) Vare you see dat blue gross, Vaterloo s.h.i.+rshe, vere Loart Uxbreedge lose 'is laig. Zey cot 'im off and pury him in ze cottyardt, and a villow grow oudt of 'im. 'E com 'ere to see the villow growing oudt of his laig.
CULCH. (_abandoning his map, and edging towards_ MISS TROTTER). Hem--we are gazing upon one of the landmarks of our national history--Miss Trotter.
MISS T. That's a vurry interesting re-mark. I presume you must have studied up some for a reflection of that kind. Mr. Podbury, your friend has been telling me----, [_She repeats_ CULCHARD'S _remark_.
PODB. (_with interest_). Got any _more_ of those, old fellow?
[CULCHARD _moves away with disgusted hauteur_.
THE GUIDE (_re-capturing him_). Along dat gross vay, Vellainton meet Blushair. Prussian general, Blushair. Vellainton 'e com hier. I see 'im.
Ven 'e see ze maundt, 'e vos vair angri. 'E say, ”Eet is no ze battle-fiel' no more--I com back nevare!” Zat aidge is vere de Scots Greys vas. Ven they dell Napoleon 'oo zey are, 'e say, ”Fine mens--splendid mens, I feenish dem in von hour!” Soult 'e say, ”Ah, Sire, you do not know dose dairible grey 'orses!” Napoleon 'e _not_ know dem. Soult 'e meet dem at de Peninsulaire--'_e_ know dem. In dat s.h.i.+rsh, dventy, dirty dablets to Inglis officers. Napoleon 'e coaled op 'is laift vink, zey deploy in line, vair you see my shdeek--ha, ze shentelman is gone avay vonce more!
MISS T. (_to_ CULCHARD, _who has found himself unable to keep away_).
You don't seem to find that old gentleman vurry good company?
CULCH. The fact is that I much prefer to receive my impressions of a scene like this in solitude.
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