Saxe went off rather dissatisfied, towel in hand, to pass their landlord’s wife and receive a nod and smile. Then he went on towards the place which he had visited before; and now, one by one, the cold-looking peaks began to turn rosy and brighten, the scene changing so rapidly to orange and gold that Saxe forgot his dissatisfied feelings, and at last stopped to look round in admiration, then in dismay, and at last in something approaching rage; for not a dozen yards behind him was the heavy, stolid face of Pierre, his mouth looking as if it had not been shut since he spoke to him.
The man had stopped when Saxe stopped, and he continued his heavy stare.
“Oh! I do wish I had paid more attention to my jolly old French and German at school,” muttered Saxe, as the man’s stare quite worried him. “I wonder what ‘be off’ is? Allez-vous en he would not understand. ‘Gehen!’ That’s ‘to go.’ But you can’t say ‘to go’ to a fellow, when you want him to be off. And you can’t say ‘go to,’ because gehen’s only one word. I know: ‘Gehen sie Jericho!’ I’ll let that off at him if he follows me any farther.”
Saxe nodded at the man, said “Morgen,” and went on.
“‘Morgen!’ Well, that’s ‘good morning.’ He must understand that; but I don’t believe he understands it as we do when one says ‘good morning’ to a fellow and means he’s to go. Oh! I say, what are you following me for? I know. He is a dirty-looking beggar. He’s coming for a wash. But after me, please, mein herr. I’ll have first go. Ugh! I’d rather have a bath after a pig.”
Saxe went on rapidly; but the man still followed, walking when he did, and timing his pace to keep up; stopping when he did, and provoking such a feeling of irritation in the English lad, that he suddenly faced round and fired the speech he had prepared, but with lingual additions which ornamented and certainly obscured the meaning.
“Here, I say! you, sir!” he cried: “old what’s-your-name—Pierre? ‘gehen Jericho!’”
The man still stared.
“I say, ‘gehen Jericho!’ and if you will, ‘danke schön,’ and good luck to you. Oh, I say, do shut that ugly mouth of yours. What’s the good of keeping it open if you’re not going to speak! There’s no breakfast here.”
Pierre still stared, and Saxe swung round again and went on.