No XVII.
SCENE—Under the Colonnade of the Hôtel Grande Bretagne, Bellagio. CULCHARD is sitting by one of the pillars, engaged in constructing a sonnet. On a neighbouring seat a group of smart people are talking over their acquaintances, and near them is another visitor, a Mr. CRAWLEY STRUTT, who is watching his opportunity to strike into the conversation.
Mrs. Hurlingham. Well, she'll be Lady CHESEPARE some day, when anything happens to the old Earl. He was looking quite ghastly when we were down at SKYMPINGS last. But they're frightfully badly off now, poor dears! Lady DRIBLETT lets them have her house in Park Lane for parties and that—but it's wonderful how they live at all!
Colonel Sandown. He looked pretty fit at the Rag the other day. Come across the SENLACS anywhere? Thought Lady SENLAC was going abroad this year.
Mr. Crawley Strutt. Hem—I saw it mentioned in the Penny Patrician that her Ladyship had—
Mrs. Hurl. (without taking the slightest notice of him). She's just been marryin' her daughter, you know—rather a good match, too. Not what I call pretty,—smart-lookin', that's all. But then her sister wasn't pretty till she married.
Col. Sand. Nice family she married into! Met her father-in-law, old Lord BLETHERHAM, the other morning, at a chemist's in Piccadilly—he'd dropped in there for a pick-me-up; and there he was, tellin' chemist all the troubles he'd had with his other sons marryin' the way they did, and that. Rum man to go and confide in his chemist, but he's like that—fond of the vine!
Mr. C.S. Er—er—it's becoming a very serious thing, Sir, the way our aristocracy is deteriorating, is it not?
Col. S. Is it? What have they been up to now, eh? Haven't seen a paper for days.
Mr. C.S. I mean these mixed marriages, and, well, their general goings on, I don't know if you're acquainted with a paper called the Penny Patrician? I take it in regularly, and I assure you—loyal supporter of our old hereditary institutions as I am—some of the revelations I read about in high life make me blush—yes, downright blush for them! [Mrs. HURLINGHAM retires.
Col. S. Do they, though? If I were you I should let 'em do their own blushin', and save my pennies.
Mr. C.S. (deferentially). No doubt you're right, Sir, but I like the Patrician myself—it's very smartly written. Talking of that, do you happen to know the ins and outs of that marriage of young Lord GOSLINGTON's? Something very mysterious about the party he's going to marry—who are her people now?
Col. S. Can't say, I'm sure—no business of mine, you know.
Mr. C.S. There I venture to think you're wrong, Sir. It's the business of everybody—the duty, I may say—to see that the best blood of the nation is not—(Col. S. turns into the hotel; Mr. C.S. sits down near CULCH.)—Remarkably superior set of visitors staying here, Sir! My chief objection to travel always is, that it brings you in contact with parties you wouldn't think of associating with at home. I was making that same remark to a very pleasant little fellow I met on the steamer—er—Lord UPPERSOLE, I think it was—and he entirely concurred. Your friend made us acquainted.—(PODBURY comes out of the hotel.)—Ah, here is your friend.—(To PODB.)—Seen his Lordship about lately, Sir?—Lord UPPERSOLE, I mean, of course!
Podb. UPPERSOLE? No—he's over at Cadenabbia, I believe.
Mr. C.S. A highly agreeable spot to stay at. Indeed, I've some idea myself of—Exceedingly pleasant person his Lordship—so affable, so completely the gentleman!
Podb. Oh, he's affable enough—for a boot-maker. I always give him a title when I see him, for the joke of the thing—he likes it.
Mr. C.S. He may, Sir. I consider a title is not a thing to be treated in that light manner. It—it was an unpardonable liberty to force me into the society of that class of person—unpardonable, Sir!
[He goes.
Podb. Didn't take much forcing, after he once heard me call him "Lord UPPERSOLE"! Where are all the others, eh? Thought we were going up to the Villa Serbelloni this afternoon.
Culch. I—er—have not been consulted. Are they—er—all going?
[With a shade of anxiety.
Podb. I believe so. You needn't be afraid, you know. HYPATIA won't have the chance of ragging you now—she and Miss TROTTER have had a bit of a breeze.
Culch. I rather gathered as much. I think I could guess the—
Podb. Yes, HYPATIA's rather uneasy about poor old BOB; thinks Miss TROTTER is—well, carrying on, you know. She is no end of a little flirt—you know that well enough!—(C. disclaims impatiently.) Here you all are, eh?—(To Miss P., Miss T., and BOB.)—Well, who knows the way up to the villa?
Miss T. It's through the town, and up some steps by the church—you cann't miss it. But Mr. PRENDERGAST is going to show me a short cut up behind the hotel—aren't you, Mr. PRENDERGAST?
Miss P. (icily). I really think, dear, it would be better if we all kept together—for so many reasons!
Culch. (with alacrity). I agree with Miss PRENDERGAST. A short cut is invariably the most indirect route.
Miss P. (with intention). You hear what Mr. CULCHARD says, my dear MAUD? He advocates direct ways, as best in the long run.
Miss T. It's only going to be a short run, my love. But I'm vurry glad to observe that you and Mr. CULCHARD are so perfectly harmonious, as I'm leaving him on your hands for a spell. Aren't you ever coming, Mr. PRENDERGAST?
[She leads him off, a not unwilling captive.
A Path in the Grounds of the Villa Serbelloni.
Podb. (considerately, to CULCHARD, who is following Miss PRENDERGAST and him, in acute misery). Look here, old fellow, Miss PRENDERGAST would like to sit down, I know; so don't you bother about keeping with us if you'd rather not, you know!
[CULCHARD murmurs an inarticulate protest.
Miss P. Surely, Mr. PODBURY, you are aware by this time that Mr. CULCHARD has a perfect mania for self-sacrifice!
[CULCHARD drops behind, crushed.
Among the Ruins at the top of the Hill.
Culch. (who has managed to overtake Miss T. and her companion). Now do oblige me by looking through that gap in the pines towards Lecco. I particularly wish you to observe the effect of light on those cliffs—it's well worth your while.
Miss T. Why, certainly, it's a view that does you infinite credit. Oh, you didn't take any hand in the arrangement? But ain't you afraid if you go around patting the scenery on the head this way, you'll have the lake overflow?
Bob. P. Ha-ha-ha! One in the eye for you, CULCHARD!
Culch. (with dignity). Surely one may express a natural enthusiasm without laying oneself open—?
Miss T. Gracious, yes! I should hope you wouldn't want to show your enthusiasm that way—like a Japanese nobleman!
Culch. (to himself). Now that's coarse—really coarse!—(Aloud.)—I seem to be unable to open my mouth now without some ridiculous distortion—
Miss T. My!—but that's a serious symptom—isn't it? You don't feel like you were going to have lock-jaw, do you, Mr. CULCHARD?
[CULCHARD falls back to the rear once more. Later—Mr. VAN BOODELER has joined the party; HYPATIA has contrived to detach her brother, CULCHARD has sought refuge with PODBURY.
Miss T. (to VAN B.). So that's what kept you? "Well, it sounds just too enchanting. But I cann't answer for what Miss PRENDERGAST will say to it. It mayn't suit her notions of propriety.
Mr. Van B. I expect she'll be superior to Britannic prejudices of that kind. I consider your friend a highly cultivated and charming lady, MAUD. She produces that impression upon me.
Miss T. I presume, from that, she has shown an intelligent interest in the great American novel?
Mr. Van B. Why, yes; it enlists her literary sympathies—she sees all its possibilities.
Miss T. And they're pretty numerous, too. But here she comes. You'd better tell her your plan right now.
Miss P. (in an earnest undertone to BOB, as they approach, followed by CULCH. and BOB). You must try and be sensible about it, BOB; if you are too blind to see that she is only—
BOB (sulkily). All right! Haven't I said I'd go? What's the good of jawing about it?
Mr. V.B. (to Miss P.) I've been telling my cousin I've been organising a little water-party for this evening—moonlight, mandolins, Menaggio. If you find that alliteration has any attractions, I hope you and your brother will do me the pleasure of—
Miss P. I'm afraid not, thanks. We have all our packing to do. We find we shall have to leave early to-morrow.
[Van B.'s face falls; BOB listens gloomily to Miss T.'s rather perfunctory expressions of regret; PODBURY looks anxious and undecided; CULCHARD does his best to control an unseemly joy.