The Travelling Companions: A Story in Scenes. Anstey F.

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СКАЧАТЬ T. That's a vurry interesting re-mark. I presume you must have studied up some for a reflection of that kind. Mr. Podbury, your friend has been telling me – , [She repeats Culchard's remark.

      Podb. (with interest). Got any more of those, old fellow?

      [Culchard moves away with disgusted hauteur.

      The Guide (re-capturing him). Along dat gross vay, Vellainton meet Blushair. Prussian général, Blushair. Vellainton 'e com hier. I see 'im. Ven 'e see ze maundt, 'e vos vair angri. 'E say, "Eet is no ze battle-fiel' no more – I com back nevare!" Zat aidge is vere de Scots Greys vas. Ven they dell Napoleon 'oo zey are, 'e say, "Fine mens – splendid mens, I feenish dem in von hour!" Soult 'e say, "Ah, Sire, you do not know dose dairible grey 'orses!" Napoleon 'e not know dem. Soult 'e meet dem at de Peninsulaire – 'e know dem. In dat Shirsh, dventy, dirty dablets to Inglis officers. Napoleon 'e coaled op 'is laift vink, zey deploy in line, vair you see my shdeek – ha, ze shentelman is gone avay vonce more!

      Miss T. (to Culchard, who has found himself unable to keep away). You don't seem to find that old gentleman vurry good company?

      Culch. The fact is that I much prefer to receive my impressions of a scene like this in solitude.

      Miss T. I should have thought you'd be too polite to tell me so; but I was moving on, anyway.

      [She goes on. Before Culchard can follow and explain, he finds himself accosted by Mr. Trotter.

      Mr. T. I don't know as I'm as much struck by this Waterloo field as I expected, Sir. As an Amurrcan, I find it doesn't come up to some of our battlefields in the War. We don't blow about those battlefields, Sir, but for style and general picturesqueness, I ain't seen nothing this side to equal them. You ever been over? You want to come over and see our country – that's what you want to do. You mustn't mind me a-running on, but when I meet some one as I can converse with in my own language – well, I just about talk myself dry.

      [He talks himself dry, until rejoined by the Guide with Podbury and Miss Trotter.

      Guide (to Podbury). Leesten, I dell you. My vader – eighteen, no in ze Airmi, laboreur man – he see Napoleon standt in a saircle; officers roundt 'im. Boots, op to hier; green cott; vite vaiscott; vite laigs —

      Podb. Your father's legs?

      Guide (indignantly). No, Sare; my vader see Napoleon's laigs; leedle 'at, qvite plain; no faither – nossing.

      Podb. But you just said you had a faither!

      Guide. I say, Napoleon 'ad no faither – vat you call it? —plume– in 'is 'at, at ze bataille.

      Podb. Are you sure? I thought the history books said he "stuck a feather in his hat, and called it Macaroni."

      Miss T. I presume you're thinking of our National Amurrcan character, Yankee Doodle?

      Guide. My vader, 'e no see Napoleon viz a Yankedoodle in 'is 'at; 'e vear nossing.

      Podb. Nothing? What became of the green coat and white waistcoat, then, eh?

      Guide. Ah, you unnerstan' nossing at all! Leesten, I dell you vonce more. My vader —

      Podb. No, look here, my friend; you go and tell that gentleman all about it (indicating Culchard); he's very interested in hearing what Napoleon wore or didn't wear.

      [The Guide takes possession of Culchard once more, who submits, under the impression that Miss Trotter is a fellow-sufferer.

      Guide (concluding a vivid account of the fight at Houguymont). Bot ven zey com qvite nearer, zey vind ze rade line no ze Inglis soldiers – nossing bot a breek vall, viz ze moskets – "Prown Pesses," you coal dem – shdeekin out of ze 'oles! Ze 'oles schdill dere. Dat vas Houguymont, in the orshairde. Now you com viz me and see ze lion. Ze dail, two piece; ze bodi, von piece; ze ball, von piece. I sank you, Sare. 'Ope you com again soon.

      [Culchard discovers that the Trotters and Podbury have gone down some time ago. At the foot of the steps he finds his friend waiting for him, alone.

      Culch. (with stiff politeness). Sorry you considered it necessary to stay behind on my account. I see your American friends have already started for the station.

      Podb. (gloomily). There were only two seats on that coach, and they wouldn't wait for the next. I don't know why, unless it was that they saw you coming down the steps. She can't stand you at any price.

      Culch. (with some heat). Just as likely she had had enough of your buffoonery!

      Podb. (with provoking good humour). Come, old chap, don't get your shirt out with me. Not my fault if she's found out you think yourself too big a swell for her, is it?

      Culch. (hotly). When did I say so – or think so? It's what you've told her about me, and I must say I call it —

      Podb. Don't talk bosh! Who said she was forward and bad form and all the rest of it in the courtyard that first evening? She was close by, and heard every word of it, I shouldn't wonder.

      Culch. (colouring). It's not of vital importance if she did. (Whistling.) Few-fee-fee-foo-foodle-di-fee-di-fa-foo.

      Podb. Not a bit – to her. Better step out if we mean to catch that train. (Humming.) La-di-loodle-lumpty-leedle-um-ti-loo!

      [They step out, Podbury humming pleasantly and Culchard whistling viciously, without further conversation, until they arrive at Braine l'Alleud Station – and discover that they have just missed their train.

      CHAPTER IV.

      Podbury is unpleasantly Surprised

      Scene —The Wiertz Museum at Brussels, a large and well-lighted gallery containing the works of the celebrated Belgian, which are reducing a limited number of spectators to the usual degree of stupefaction. Enter Culchard, who seats himself on a central ottoman.

      Culch. (to himself). If Podbury won't come down to breakfast at a decent hour, he can't complain if I – I wonder if he heard Miss Trotter say she was thinking of coming here this morning. Somehow, I should like that girl to have a more correct comprehension of my character. I don't so much mind her thinking me fastidious and exclusive. I dare say I am– but I do object to being made out a hopeless melancholiac! (He looks round the walls.) So these are Wiertz's masterpieces, eh? h'm. Strenuous, vigorous, – a trifle crude, perhaps. Didn't he refuse all offers for his pictures during his lifetime? Hardly think he could have been overwhelmed with applications for the one opposite. (He regards an enormous canvas, representing a brawny and gigantic Achilles perforating a brown Trojan with a small mast.) Not a dining-room picture. Still, I like his independence – work up rather well in a sonnet. Let me see. (He takes out note-book and scribbles.) "He scorned to ply his sombre brush for hire." Now if I read that to Podbury, he'd pretend to think I was treating of a shoe-black on strike! Podbury is so utterly deficient in reverence.

      [Close by is a party of three Tourists – a Father and Mother, and a Daughter; who is reading to them aloud from the somewhat effusive Official Catalogue; the education of all three appears СКАЧАТЬ