Part 27 (1/2)

CULCH. I may return your charming candour by admitting that my--er--dismissal will be--well, not wholly without its consolations.

MISS T. Then _that's_ all right! And if you'll be obliging enough to hunt up my Poppa and send him along, I guess I can dispense with your further escort, and you can commence those consolations right away.

CULCH. (_alone_). The little vixen! Saw I was getting tired of it, and took care to strike first. Clever--but a trifle crude. But I'm free now.

Unfortunately my freedom comes too late. Podbury's _t.i.tania_ is much too enamoured of those a.s.s's ears of his----How the brute will chuckle when he hears of this! But he won't hear of it from _me_. I'll go in and pack and be off to-morrow morning before he's up!

NEXT MORNING; IN THE HALL OF THE GRAND HOTEL DANDOLO.

THE GERMAN PORTER (_a stately person in a gold-laced uniform and a white waistcoat, escaping from importunate visitors_). In von momendt, Matam, I attend to you. You want a larcher roum, Sare? You address ze manager, blease. Your dronks, Laties? I haf zem brod down, yes.

_A Lady._ Oh, Porter, we want a gondola this afternoon to go to the Lido, and _do_ try if you can get us Beppo--that _nice_ gondolier, you know, we had yesterday!

THE PORTER. Ach! I do nod know _any_ nah-ice gondolier--zey are oal--I dell you, if you lif viz zem ade mons as me, you cot your troat--yes!

ANOTHER LADY. Porter, can you tell me the name of the song that man is singing in the barge there?

PORTER. I gannot dell you ze name--pecause zey sing always ze same ting!

A HELPLESS MAN IN KNICKERBOCKERS (_drifting in at the door_). Here, I say. We engaged rooms here by telegram from Florence. What am I to give these fellows from the station? _Combien_, you know!

PORTER. You gif zem two franc--and zen zey vill gromble. You haf engage roums? yes. Zat vill pe oal rahit--Your loggage in ze gondola, yes? I haf it taken op.

THE H. M. No, it's left behind at Bologna. My friend's gone back for it.

And I say, think it will turn up all right?

PORTER. Eef you register it, and your vrient is zere, you ged it--yes.

THE H. M. Yes, but look _here_, don't you know? Oughtn't I to make a row--a fuss--about it, or something, eh?

PORTER (_moving off with subdued contempt_). Oh, you can make a foss, yes, if you like--you ged nossing!

CULCH. _and_ PODB. (_stopping him simultaneously_). I say, I want my luggage brought down from No.--in time for the twelve o'clock--(_To each other._) Hallo! are _you_ off too?

CULCH. (_confused_). Er--yes--thought I might as well be getting back.

PODB. Then I--I suppose it's all settled--with Miss T.--you know--eh?

CULCH. Fortunately--yes. And--er--_your_ engagement happily concluded?

PODB. Well, it's _concluded_, anyway. It's all _off_, you know. I--I wasn't artistic enough for her.

CULCH. She has refused you? My _dear_ Podbury, I'm really delighted to hear this--at least, that is----

PODB. Oh, don't mind _me_. I'm getting over it. But I must congratulate you on better luck.

CULCH. On precisely similar luck. Miss Trotter and I--er--arrived at the conclusion last night that we were not formed to make each other's happiness.