Part 29 (1/2)
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.