Part 21 (1/2)
CULCH. No--only pained by such a travesty of a n.o.ble name. ”Scallywags”
for Scaligers seems to me, if I may say so, a very cheap form of humour!
MISS T. Well, it's more than cheap--it isn't going to cost you a cent, so I should think you'd appreciate it!
BOB P. Haw--score for _you_, Miss Trotter!
CULCH. I should have thought myself that mere personality is hardly enough to give point to any repartee--there is a slight difference between brilliancy and--er--_brutality_!
BOB P. Hullo! You and I are being sat upon pretty heavily, Miss Trotter.
MISS T. I guess our Schoolmaster's abroad. But why Mr. Culchard should want to make himself a train out of my coverlets, I don't just see--he looks majestic enough without that.
[CULCHARD _catches up a blanket which is trailing, and says bad words under his breath_.
AT THE TOMB OF JULIET.
CULCH. (_who is gradually recovering his equanimity_). Think of it! the actual spot on which _Romeo_ and _Juliet_--Shakspeare's _Juliet_--drew their last breath! Does it not realise the tragedy for you?
MISS T. Well, no--it's a disappointing tomb. I reckoned it would look less like a horse-trough. I should have expected _Juliet's_ Poppa and Momma would want, considering all the facts of the case, to throw more style into her monument!
CULCH. (_languidly_). May not its very simplicity--er--attest the sincerity of their remorse?
MISS T. Do you attach any particular meaning to that observation now?
(CULCHARD _bites his lip_.) I notice this tomb is full of visiting cards--my! but ain't that curious?
CULCH. (_instructively_). It only shows that this place is not without its pathos and interest for _most_ visitors, no matter what their nationality may be. You don't feel inclined yourself to----?
MISS T. To leave a pasteboard? Why I shouldn't sleep any all night, for fear she'd return my call!
CULCH. (_producing a note-book_). It's fanciful, perhaps--but, if you don't mind waiting a little, I should like to contribute--not my card, but a sonnet. I feel one on its way.
BOB P. Better make sure the tomb's _genuine_ first, hadn't you? Some say it _isn't_.
CULCH. (_exasperated_). I _knew_ you'd make some matter-of-fact remark of that kind! There--it's no use! Let us go.
MISS T. Why, your sonnets seem as skeery as those lizards there! I hope Juliet won't ever know what she's missed. But likely you'll mail those verses on to her later. [_She and_ BOB P. _pa.s.s on, laughing_.
CULCH. (_following_). She only affects this vulgar flippancy to torment me. If I didn't know _that_----There, I've left that infernal pot behind now! [_Goes back for it, wrathfully._
_In the Amphitheatre_; MISS PRENDERGAST, PODBURY, _and_ VAN BOODELER, _are seated on an upper tier_.
PODB. (_meditatively_). I suppose they charged highest for the lowest seats. Wonder whether a lion ever nipped up and helped himself to some fat old buffer in the Stalls when the martyrs turned out a leaner lot than usual!
VAN B. There's an ingenuous modernity about our friend's historical speculations that is highly refres.h.i.+ng.
MISS P. There is, indeed--though he might have spared himself and _us_ the trouble of them if he had only remembered that the _podium_ was invariably protected by a railing, and occasionally by _euripi_, or trenches, You surely learnt that at school, Mr. Podbury?
PODB. I--I dare say. Forgotten all I learnt at school, you know!