Part 14 (1/2)
THE IT. G. Goodaby, dear frens, a riverderla! I success at your chairs.
I vish you a pleasure's delay!
PODB. But I say, look here, Sir, we're going on, and you've got our place!
THE IT. G. Sank you verri moch. I 'ope so.
[_He blows_ PODBURY _a kiss._
PODB. (_with intense disgust_). How on earth are we going to get that beggar out? Set the Conductor at him, Culchard, do--you can talk the lingo best!
CULCH. (_who has had enough of_ PODBURY _for the present_). Talk to him yourself, my dear fellow, _I_'m not going to make a row. [_He gets in._
PODB. (_to_ CONDUCTOR). Hi! sprechen sie Franzosisch, oder was? _il-y-a quelque chose dans mon siege, dites-lui de_--what the deuce is the French for ”clear out”?
COND. _Montez, Monsieur, nous bartons, montez vite alors!_
[_He thrusts_ PODBURY, _protesting vainly, into the interieur, with two peasants, a priest, and the elderly Englishwoman. The diligence starts again._
CHAPTER XIII.
On revient Toujours!
SCENE--_A hundred yards or so from the top of Monte Generoso, above Lake Lugano._ CULCHARD, _who, with a crowd of other excursionists, has made the ascent by rail, is toiling up the steep and very slippery slope to the summit._
CULCH. (_to himself, as he stops to pant_). _More_ climbing! I thought this line was supposed to go to the top! But that's Italian all over--hem--as Podbury would say! Wonder, by the way, if he expected to be asked to come with me. I've no reason for sacrificing myself like that any longer! (_He sighs._) Ah, Hypatia, if you could know what a dreary disenchanted blank you have made of my life! And I who believed you capable of appreciating such devotion as mine!
A VOICE BEHIND. My! If I don't know that back I'll just give up! How've _you_ been getting along all this time, Mr. Culchard?
CULCH. (_turning_). Miss Trotter! A most delightful and--er--unexpected meeting, indeed!
MISS TROTTER. Well, we came up on the cars in front of yours. We've taken rooms at the hotel up here. Poppa reckoned the air would be kind of fresher on the top of this mountain, and I don't believe but what he's right either. I guess I shall want another hairpin through _my_ hat. And are you still going around with Mr. Podbury? As inseparable as ever, I presume?
CULCH. Er--_about_ as inseparable. That is, we are still travelling together--only, on this particular afternoon----
MISS T. He went and got mislaid? I see. He used to stray considerable over in Germany, didn't he? Well, I'm real pleased to see _you_ anyway.
And how's the poetry been panning out? I hope you've had a pretty good yield of sonnets?
CULCH. (_to himself_). She's really grown distinctly prettier. She might show a little more _feeling_, though, considering we were almost, if not quite----(_Aloud._) So you remember my poor poems? I'm afraid I have not been very--er--prolific of late.
MISS T. You don't say! I should think you'd have had one to show for every day, with the date to it, like a new-laid egg.
CULCH. Birds don't lay--er--I mean they don't _sing_, in the dark. My light has been--er--lacking of late.
MISS T. If that's intended for me, you ought to begin chirping right away. But you're not going to tell me you've been ”lounjun round en sufferin'” like--wasn't it _Uncle Remus's_ Brer Terrapin? (_Catching_ C.'S _look of bewilderment._) What, don't you know _Uncle Remus?_
CULCH. (_politely_). Mr. Trotter is the only relation of yours I have had the pleasure of meeting, as yet.
MISS T. Why, I reckoned _Uncle Remus_ was pretty most everybody's relation by now. He's a book. But likely you've no use for our national humorous literature?