No. XX.
SCENE—The interior of a covered gondola, which is conveying CULCHARD and PODBURY from the Railway Station to the Hotel Dandolo, Venice. The gondola is gliding with a gentle sidelong heave under shadowy bridges of stone and cast-iron, round sharp corners, and past mysterious blank walls, and old scroll-work gateways, which look ghostly in the moonlight.
Culch. (looking out of the felze window, and quoting conscientiously).
"I saw from out the wave her structures rise,
As from the stroke of the enchanter's wand.";
Podb. For rest, see guide-books, passim, eh? Hanged if I can see; any structures with this thing on, though! Let's have it off, eh? (He crawls out and addresses Gondolier across the top.) Hi! Otez-moi ceci, entendez-vous? (Drums on roof of felze with fists; the Gondolier replies in a torrent of Italian.) Now a London cabby would see what I wanted at once. This chap's a fool!
Culch. He probably imagines you are merely expressing your satisfaction with Venice. And I don't see how you expect him to remove the entire cabin here! (PODBURY crawls in again, knocking his head.) I think we did well to let the—the others travel on first. More dignified, you know!
Podb. Um—don't see any particular dignity in missing the train, myself!
Culch. They won't know it was not intentional. And I think, PODBURY, we should go on—er—asserting ourselves a little while by holding rather aloof. It will show them that we don't mean to put up with—
Podb. Don't see that either. Not going to let that beast, VAN BOODELER have it all his own way!
Culch. Surely you know he decided suddenly to stay at Vicenza? He said so at breakfast. But I will not have your friend BOB perpetually—
Podb. At breakfast? Oh, I came down late. Vicenza, eh? Then he's out of it! Hooray! But as for BOB, he's all right too. Oh, I forgot you cut déjeuner. HYPATIA had another squabble with Miss TROTTER, and poor old BOB got dragged into it as usual, and now they ain't on speaking terms.
Culch. (overjoyed). You don't say so! Then all I can say, PODBURY, is that if we two can't manage, in a place like this, to recover all the ground we have lost—
Podb. More water than ground in a place like this, eh? But I know what you mean—we must be duffers if we don't leave Venice engaged men—which we're not as yet, worse luck!
Culch. No—but we shall be, if we only insist upon being treated seriously.
Podb. She treats me a devilish deal too seriously, my boy. But there, never mind—things will go better now!
SCENE—A double-bedded room in the Grand Hotel, Dandolo, which PODBURY and CULCHARD have to share for the night.
Podb. (from his bed, suspiciously, to CULCHARD, who is setting fire to a small pastille in a soap-dish). I say, old chappie, bar fireworks, you know! What the deuce are you up to over there?
Culch. Lighting a "fidibus." Splendid thing to drive out mosquitoes. (The pastille fizzes, and begins to emit a dense white smoke, and a suffocating odour.)
Podb. (bounding). Mosquitoes! It would drive a dragon out. Phew—ah! (CULCHARD closes the window.) You don't mean to say you're going to shut me up in this infernal reek on a stifling night like this?
Culch. If I didn't, the mosquitoes would come in again.
Podb. Come in? With that pastille doing the young Vesuvius! Do you think a mosquito's a born fool? (He jumps out and opens the window.) I'm not going to be smoked like a wasps' nest, I can tell you!
Culch. (calmly shutting it again, as PODBURY returns to bed). You'll be grateful to me by-and-by.
[Slips between his mosquito-curtains in a gingerly manner, and switches off the electric light. A silence.
Podb. I say, you ain't asleep, are you? Think we shall see anything of them to-morrow, eh?
Culch. See? I can hear one singing in my ear at this moment. (Irritably.) You would open the window!
Podb. (sleepily). Not mosquitoes. I meant HYPATIA, and the—haw—yaw—TROTTERS.
Culch. How can I tell? (Second silence.) PODBURY! What did I tell you? One's just bitten me—the beast! (He turns on the light, and slaps about frantically). I say, I can hear him buzzing all over the place!
Podb. So can I hear you buzzing. How the dickens is a fellow to get to sleep while you're playing Punch and Judy in there?
Culch. He's got me on the nose now! There's a lot outside. Just turn off the light, will you? I daren't put my arm out. (To Mosquito.) You brute! (To Podb.) PODBURY, do switch off the light—like a good fellow!
Podb. (dreamily). Glass up, Gondolier ... stifling in this cab ... drive me ... nearest Doge. [He snores.
Culch. Brutal selfishness! (Turns out the light himself.) Now if I can only get off to sleep while that little beast is quiet—
Mosquito (ironically, in his ear). Ping-a-wing-wing!
Same Scene; the next morning.
Culch. (drawing PODBURY's curtains). Here, wake up, PODBURY—it's just eight. (PODBURY sits up, and rubs his eyes.) I've had a horrible night, my dear fellow! I'm stung to such an extent! But (hopefully) I suppose there's nothing to show particularly, eh? [Presenting his countenance for inspection.
Podb. Not much of your original features, old fellow! (He roars with laughter.) You've got a pair of cheeks like a raised map!
Culch. It—it's going down. Nothing to what it was, half an hour ago!
Podb. Then I'm jolly glad you didn't call me earlier, that's all!
Culch. It does feel a little inflamed. I wonder if I could get a little—er—violet powder, or something—?
Podb. (with a painful want of sympathy). Violet powder! Buy a blue veil—a good thick one!
Culch. What sort of impression do you suppose I should get of Venice with a blue veil on?
Podb. Can't say—but a pleasanter one than Venice will get of you without it. You don't mean to face the fair Miss TROTTER while you're like that, do you?
Culch. (with dignity). Most certainly I do. I am much mistaken in Miss TROTTER if she will attach the slightest importance to a mere temporary—er—disfigurement. These swellings never do last long. Do they now?
Podb. Oh, not more than a month or so, I daresay, if you can keep from touching them. (He laughs again.) Excuse me, old chap, but I just got you in a new light. Those mosquitoes have paid you out for that pastille—by Jove, they have!
Landing-steps entrance of the Hotel. Nine A.M.
Culch. (coming out a little self-consciously, and finding Mr. TROTTER). Ah, good morning! What are your—er—impressions of Venice, Mr. TROTTER?
Mr. Trotter (thoughtfully). Well, I'm considerable struck with it, Sir. There's a purrfect freshness and novelty about Vernis that's amusing to a stranger like myself. We've nothing just like this city out West. No, Sir. And how are—(Becomes aware of CULCHARD's appearance.) Say, you don't look like your slumbers had been one unbroken ca'm, either! The mosquitoes hev been powerful active makin' alterations in you. Perseverin' and industrious insects, Sir! Me and my darter have been for a loaf round before breakfast. I dunno if you've seen her yet, she's—.
Miss T. (coming out from behind). Poppa, they've fixed up our breakf—(Sees CULCHARD, and turns away, covering her face). Don't you turn your head in this direction, Mr. CULCHARD, or I guess I'll expire right away!
Culch. (obeying, wounded). I confess I did not think a few mosquito-bites would have quite such an effect upon you!
Miss T. You're vurry polite, I'm sure! But I possess a hand-mirror; and, if you cann't bear to look me in the face, you'd better keep away!
Culch. (takes a hasty glance, and discovers, with a shock, that she is almost as much disfigured as himself). Oh, I—I wasn't—(With an effort of politeness.) Er—I hope you haven't been inconvenienced at all?
Miss T. Inconvenienced! With haff-a-dozen healthy mosquitoes springing a surprise party on me all night! I should guess so. (Noticing C.'s face.) But what in the land have you been about? Well, if that isn't real tact now! I reckoned I'd been dealt a full hand in spots; but now I've seen you, I guess there's a straight flush against me, and I can just throw up. But you don't play Poker, do you? Come along in, Poppa, do. [She goes in with Mr. T.
Culch. (alone, disenchanted). I could not have believed any amount of bites could have made such a terrible difference in her. She looks positively plain! I do trust they're not permanent, or really—! [He gazes meditatively down on the lapping water.