LITMIR.BIZ

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(eagerly). I beg you will not think it necessary. He – he has a guide already. He does not require my services. And, to be plain, my poor friend – though an excellent fellow according to his – ah – lights – is a companion whose society occasionally amounts to a positive infliction.

      Miss T. Well, I find him too chinny myself, times. Likely he won't notice us if we don't seem to be aware of him.

      [They continue to inspect the canvases.

      A Belgian Guide (who has made an easy capture of Podbury at the Hotel entrance.) Hier now is a shdrainch beecture. "De toughts and veesions of a saivered haid." Fairsst meenut afder degapitation; de zagonde; de tirt. Hier de haid tink dey vant to poot him in a goffin. Dere are two haids – von goes op, de udder down. Haf you got de two? Nod yet? No?

      Podbury (shaking his head sagaciously). Oh, ah, yes. Capital. Rum subject, though.

      Guide. Yais, vary magnifique, vary grandt, and – and rom also! Dees von rebresents Napoleon in hail. De modders show him de laigs and ahums of dair sons keeled in de vars, and invide him to drink a cop of bloodt.

      Podb. Ha, cheery picture that!

      Guide. Cheery, oh, yais! Now com and beep troo dis 'ole. (Podbury obeys with docility.) You see? A Mad Voman cooking her shildt in a gettle. Hier again, dey haf puried a man viz de golera pefore he is daid, he dries to purst de goffin, you see only de handt shdicking oudt.

      Podb. The old Johnny seems full of pretty fancies. (He looks through another peephole.) Girl looking at skeleton. Ha! Any other domestic subjects on view? (He suddenly sees Miss Trotter and Culchard with their backs to him.) Hal – lo, this is luck! I must go to the rescue, or that beggar Culchard will bore her to death in no time. (To Guide.) Here, hold on a minute. (Crosses to Culchard, followed by Guide.) How d' ye do, Miss Trotter? Doing the Wild Wiertz Show, I see. Ah, Culchard, why didn't you tell me you were going – might have gone together. I say, I've got a guide here.

      Culch. (drily). So we perceive – a very sensible plan, no doubt, in some cases, my dear fellow.

      Podb. (to Miss T.). Do come and listen to him, most intelligent chap – great fun. Mr. Culchard is above that sort of thing, I dare say.

      Guide. Your vriendts laike to choin, yais? Same for tree as for von. I exblain all de beecture.

      Miss T. You're vurry obliging, Mr. Podbury, but your friend is explaining it all just splendidly.

      Podb. (piqued). Perhaps I had better dismiss my chap, and take on Mr. Culchard too?

      Miss T. No, I'd just hate to have you do that. Keep on going round. You mustn't mind us, indeed!

      Podb. Oh, if you'd rather! (Gloomily, to Guide.) They can do without us. Just show me something more in the blood-and-thunder line – no, at the other end of the room. [They withdraw.

      Guide. Hier is von dat is vary amusant. You know de schtory of de Tree Vishes, eh?

      Podb. Macbeth, eh? oh, I see —Wishes! No, what was that?

      Guide. I dell it you. (He tells it; Podbury falls into gloomy abstraction.) … And inschdantly she vind a grade pig soasage at de end of her noâse. So de ole voman —

      Podb. (wearily). Oh, I've heard all that. What's this one about?

      Guide. Dis is galled "De lasht Gannon." You see de vigure of Ceevilization flodderin up viz de vings, vile Brogress preaks asonder de lasht gon, and in a gorner a Genius purns de vrontier bosts.

      Podb. (captiously). What's he doing that for?

      Guide. I ton't know. I subbose begause dey are bosts, or (dubiously) begause he is a Genius.

      Culch. (touching Podbury's arm as he goes out). Oh – er – Podbury, I'm off. Going to lunch somewhere with the – ah – Trotters. See you at table d'hôte this evening, I suppose? Good-bye.

      Podb. (savagely). Oh, ta-ta! (To himself.) And that's the fellow who said he wanted to keep out of making friends! How the dickens am I going to get through the time by myself? (To Guide.) Here, that's enough for one day.

      Guide. If you vandt to puy som real Prussels lace for your sweedardt, I —

      Podb. (grimly). I've no occasion for any at present, thank you.

      [He pays and dismisses him, and stands forlornly in the Gallery, while the Imperfectly Educated Daughter goes on spelling out the Catalogue for her Parents' edification.

      CHAPTER V.

      Culchard has the Best of it

      Scene —Upper deck of the Rhine Steamer, König Wilhelm, somewhere between Bonn and Bingen. The little tables on deck are occupied by English, American, and German tourists, drinking various liquids, from hock to Pilsener beer, and eating veal cutlets. Mr. Cyrus K. Trotter is on the lower deck, discussing the comparative merits of the New York hotels with a fellow countryman. Miss Maud S. Trotter is seated on the afterdeck in close conversation with Culchard. Podbury is perched on a camp-stool in the forward part. Near him a British Matron, with a red-haired son, in a green and black blazer, and a blue flannel nightcap, and a bevy of rabbit-faced daughters, are patronising a tame German Student in spectacles, who speaks a little English.

      The British Matron. Oh, you ought to see London; it's our capital – chief city, you know. Very grand – large – four million inhabitants! [With pride, as being in some way responsible for this.

      A Rabbit-faced Daughter (with a simper). Quite a little world!

      [She looks down her nose, as if in fear of having said something a little too original.

      The Germ. Stud. No, I haf not yet at London peen. Ven I vill pedder Englisch learn, I go.

      The Blazer. You read our English books, I suppose? Dickens, you know, and Homer, eh? About the Trojan War – that's his best work!

      The Stud. (Ollendorffically). I haf not read Diggins; but I haf read ze bapers by Bigvig. Zey are vary indereshtin, and gurious.

      A Patriotic Young Scot (to an admiring Elderly Lady in a black mushroom hat). Eh, but we just made a pairrty and went up Auld Drachenfels, and when we got to th' tope, we danced a richt gude Scots reel, and sang, "We're a' togither an' naebody by," concluding – just to show, ye'll understan', that we were loyal subjics – wi' "God Save th' Queen." The peasants didna seem just to know what to mak' of us, I prawmise ye!

      The Black Mushroom. How I wish I'd been one of you!

      The Young Scot (candidly). I doot your legs would ha' stood such wark.

      [Podbury becomes restless, and picks his way among the campstools to Culchard and Miss Trotter.

      Podbury (to himself). Time I had a look in, I think. (Aloud.) Well, Miss Trotter, what do you think of the Rhine, as far as you've got?

      Miss T. Well, I guess it's navigable, as far as I've got.

      Podb. No, but I mean to say – does it come up to the mark in the scenery line, you know?

      Miss T. I cannt answer that till I know whereabouts it is they mark the scenery-line. I expect Mr. Culchard knows. He knows pretty well everything. Would you like to have him explain the scenery to you going along? His explanations are vurry improving, I assure you.

      Podb. I dare say; but the scenery just here is so flat that even my friend's remarks won't improve it.

      Culch. (producing his note-book ostentatiously). I do not propose to attempt it. No doubt you will be more successful in entertaining Miss Trotter than I can pretend to be. I retire in your favour. [He scribbles.

      Podb. Is that our expenses you're corking down there, Culchard, eh?

      Culch.

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