F. Anstey

Scene—Near Torcello. Culchard and Podbury are seated side by side in the gondola, which is threading its way between low banks, bright with clumps of Michaelmas daisies and pomegranate-trees laden with red fruit. Both Culchard and Podbury are secretly nervous and anxious for encouragement.

Podbury (humming "In Old Madrid" with sentiment). La-doodle-um-La-doodle-oo: La-doodle-um-te-dumpty-loodle-oo! I think she rather seemed to like me—those first days at Brussels, don't you?

Culchard (absently). Did she? I dare say. (Whistling "The Wedding March" softly.) Few-fee; di-fee-fee-few-few; few-fiddledy-fee-fiddledy-few-few-few-fee. I fancy I'm right in my theory, eh?

Podb. Oh, I should say so—yes. What theory?

Culch. (annoyed). What theory? Why, the one I've been explaining to you for the last ten minutes!—that all this harshness of hers lately is really, when you come to analyse it, a decidedly encouraging symptom.

Podb. But I shouldn't have said Miss Trotter was exactly harsh to me—lately, at all events.

Culch. (with impatience). Miss Trotter! You! What an egoist you are, my dear fellow! I was referring to myself and Miss Prendergast. And you can't deny that, both at Nuremberg and Constance, she——

Podb. (with careless optimism). Oh, she'll come round all right, never fear. I only wish I was half as safe with Miss Trotter!

Culch. (mollified). Don't be too down-hearted, my dear Podbury. I happen to know that she likes you—she told me as much last night. Did Miss Prendergast—er—say anything to that effect about me?

Podb. Well,—not exactly, old chap—not to me, at least. But I say, Miss Trotter didn't tell you that? Not really? Hooray! Then it's all right—she may have me after all!

Culch. (chillingly). I should advise you not to be over-confident. (A silence follows, which endures until they reach the landing-steps at Torcello.) They are here, you see—those are evidently their gondolas, I recognise those two cloaks. Now the best thing we can do is to separate.

Podb. (springing out). Right you are! (To himself.) I'll draw the church first and see if she's there. (Approaches the door of Santa Maria: a Voice within, apparently reading aloud: "Six balls, or rather almonds, of purple marble veined with white are set around the edge of the pulpit, and form its only decoration.") Hypatia, by Jove! Narrow shave that!

[He goes round to back.

Culch. (comes up to the door). I know I shall find her here. Lucky I know that Torcello chapter in "The Stones" very nearly by heart! (Reaches threshold. A Voice within. "Well, I guess I'm going to climb up and sit in that old amphitheatre there, and see how it feels!") Good heavens,—Maud! and I was as nearly as possible—I think I'll go up to the top of the Campanile and see if I can't discover where Hypatia is.

[He ascends the tower.

IN THE BELFRY.

Podb. (arriving breathless, and finding Culchard craning eagerly forward). Oh, so you came up too? Well, can you see her?

Culch. Ssh! She's just turned the corner! (Vexed.) She's with Miss Trotter!... They're sitting down on the grass below!

Podb. Together? That's a nuisance! Now we shall have to wait till they separate—sure to squabble, sooner or later.

Miss T.'S Voice (which is perfectly audible above). I guess we'll give Ruskin a rest now, Hypatia. I'm dying for a talk. I'm just as enchanted as I can be to hear you've dismissed Mr. Podbury. And I expect you can guess why.

Podb. (in a whisper). I say, Culchard, they're going to talk about us. Ought we to listen, eh? Better let them know we're here?

Culch. I really don't see any necessity—however,—(Whistles feebly.) Feedy-feedy-feedle!

Podb. What is the use of fustling like that? (YÖdels.) Lul-li-ety!

Miss P.'s V. Well, my dear Maud, I confess that I——

Culch. It's quite impossible to make them hear down there, and it's no fault of ours if their voices reach us occasionally. And it does seem to me, Podbury, that, in a matter which may be of vital importance to me—to us both—it would be absurd to be over-scrupulous. But of course you will please yourself. I intend to remain where I am. [Podbury reluctantly resigns himself to the situation.

Miss T.'s V. Now, Hypatia Prendergast, don't tell me you're not interested in him! And he's more real suited to you than ever Mr. Podbury was. Now, isn't that so?

Culch. (withdrawing his head). Did you hear, Podbury? She's actually pleading for me! Isn't she an angel? Be quiet, now. I must hear the answer!

Miss T.'s V. I—I don't know, really. But, Maud, I want to speak to you about—Somebody. You can't think how he adores you, poor fellow! I have noticed it for a long time.

Pobd. (beaming). Culchard! You heard? She's putting in a word for me. What a brick that girl is!

Miss T.'s V. I guess he's pretty good at concealing his feelings, then. He's been keeping far enough away!

Miss P.'s V. That was my fault. I kept him by me. You see, I believed you had quite decided to accept Mr. Culchard.

Miss T.'s V. Well, it does strike me that, considering he was adoring me all this time, he let himself be managed tolerable easy. [Podbury shakes his head in protestation.

Miss P.'s V. Ah, but let me explain. I could only keep him quiet by threatening to go home by myself, and dear Bob is such a devoted brother that——

Pobd. Brother! I say, Culchard, she can't be meaning Bob all this time! She can't! can she now?

Culch. How on earth can I tell? If it is so, you must be a philosopher, my dear fellow, and bear it—that's all.

Miss P.'s V. That does alter the case, doesn't it? And I may tell him there's some hope for him? You mustn't judge him by what he is with his friend, Mr. Podbury. Bob has such a much stronger and finer character!

Miss T.'s V. Oh well, if he couldn't stand up more on his edge than Mr. Podbury! Not that I mind Mr. Podbury any, there's no harm in him, but he's too real frivolous to amount to much.

Podb. (collapsing). Frivolous! From her too! Oh, hang it all!

[He buries his head in his hands with a groan.

Miss T.'s V. Well, see here, Hypatia. I'll take your brother on trial for a spell, to oblige you—there. I cann't say more at present. And now—about the other. I want to know just how you feel about him.

Culch. The other!—that's Me! I wish to goodness you wouldn't make all that noise, Podbury, just when it's getting interesting!

Miss P.'s V. (very low). What is the good! Nothing will bring him back—now!

Culch. Nothing? How little she knows me!

Miss T.'s V. I hope you don't consider me nothing. And a word from me would bring him along pretty smart. The only question is whether I'm to say it or not.

Miss T.'s V. (muffled). Dar-ling!

Culch. I really think I might almost venture to go down now, eh, Podbury? (No answer.) Selfish brute! [Indignantly.

Miss T.'s V. But mind this—if he comes back, you've got to care for him the whole length of your boa—you won't persuade him to run in couples with anybody else. That's why he broke away the first time—and you were ever so mad with me because you thought I was at the bottom of it. But it was all his pride. He's too real independent to share chances with anybody alive.

Culch. How thoroughly she understands me!

Miss T.'s V. And I guess Charley will grow out of the great Amurrcan Novel in time—it's not going ever to grow out of him, anyway!

Culch. (bewildered). Charley? I don't see why she should mention Van Boodeler now!

Miss T.'s V. I like Charley ever so much, and I'm not going to have him cavort around along with a circus of suitors under vows. So, if I thought there was any chance of—well, say Mr. Culchard——

Miss P.'s V. (indignant). Maud! how can you? That odious hypocritical creature! If you knew how I despised and——!

Miss T.'s V. Well, my dear, he's pretty paltry—but we'll let him go at that—I guess his shares have gone down considerable all round.

Culch. Podbury, I—I—this conversation is evidently not intended for—for other ears—I don't know whether you have heard enough, I shall go down!

Podb. (with a ghastly chuckle). Like your shares, eh, old chap? And mine too, for that matter. Well, I'm ready enough to go. Only, for goodness' sake, let's get away without being seen!

[They slip softly down the series of inclined planes, and out to the steps, where they re-embark. As their gondola pushes off, Mr. Trotter and Bob Prendergast appear from the Museum.

Mr. T. Why, land sakes! ain't that Mr. Podbury and Mr. Culchard? Hi! you ain't ever going away? There's my darter and Miss Hypatia around somewhere—They'll be dreadful disappointed to have missed you!

Podb. (with an heroic attempt at cheeriness). We—we're awfully disappointed to have missed them, Mr. Trotter. Afraid we can't stop now! Good-bye!

[Culchard pulls his hat-brim over his eyes and makes a sign to the gondoliers to get on quickly; Mr. Trotter comments with audible astonishment on their departure to Bob, who preserves a discreet silence.