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 adecent hour, he can't complain if I----I wonder if he heard Miss Trottersay she was thinking of coming here this morning. Somehow, I _should_like that girl to have a more correct comprehension of my character. Idon't so much mind her thinking me fastidious and exclusive. I dare sayI _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 alloffers for his pictures during his lifetime? Hardly think he could havebeen overwhelmed with applications for the one opposite. (_He regards anenormous canvas, representing a brawny and gigantic Achilles perforatinga brown Trojan with a small mast._) Not a dining-room picture. Still, Ilike his independence--work up rather well in a sonnet. Let me see. (_Hetakes out note-book and scribbles._) "He scorned to ply his sombre brushfor hire." Now if I read that to Podbury, he'd pretend to think I wastreating of a shoe-black on strike! Podbury is so utterly deficient inreverence.
[_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 to have been elementary._
THE DAUGHTER _(spelling out the words laboriously)._ "I could not 'elpfancying this was the artist's por-portrait?--portent?--no, _protest_against des-des--(_recklessly_) despoticism, and tyranny, but I see itis only--Por-Porliffymus fasting upon the companions of Ulyces."
Her Male Parent. Do it tell yer what that there big arm and leg bea-doin' of in the middle of 'em?
DAUGHTER (_stolidly_). Don't you be in a nurry, father(_continuing_)--"in the midst of some colonial?--_That_ ain'tit--_colossial_ animiles fanatically--fan-tasty-cally----why, thiscatalogue is 'alf foreign itself!"
FEMALE P. Never mind, say 'Peterborough' at the 'ard words--_we_ shan'tbe none the wiser!
DAUGHTER. "The sime-boalic ram the 'ero is to Peterborough and leave 'isPeterborough grotter----"
MALE P. That'll do--read what it says about the next one.
DAUGHTER (_reading_). "The Forge of Vulkin. Words are useless 'ere.Before sech a picture one can but look, and think, and enjoy it."
BOTH PARENTS (_impressed_). Lor!
[_They smack their lips reverently_; MISS TROTTER _enters the Gallery_.
CULCH. (_rising and going to meet her_). Good morning, Miss Trotter.We--ah--meet again.
MISS T. That's an undeniable fact. I've left Poppa outside. Popparestricts himself to exteriors wherever he can--says he doesn't seem tomix up his impressions so much that way. But you're alone, too. Where'veyou hitched your friend up?
CULCH. My friend did not rise sufficiently early to accompany me. And,by the way, Miss Trotter, I should like to take this opportunity ofdisabusing your mind of the--er--totally false impression----
MISS T. Oh, _that's_ all right. I told him he needn't try to give meaway, for I could see you weren't _that_ kind of man!
CULCH. (_gratefully_). Your instinct was correct--perfectly correct.When you say "that kind of man," I presume you refer to the descriptionmy--er--friend considered it humorous to give of me as an unsociablehypochondriac?
MISS T. Well, no; he didn't say just that. He represented you as one ofthe fonniest persons alive; said you told stories which tickled folks todeath almost.
CULCH. (_annoyed_). Really, this is _most_ unpardonable of Mr. Podbury!To have such odious calumnies circulated about one behind one's back issimply too----I do _not_ aspire to--ah--to tickle folks to death!
MISS T. (_soothingly_). Well, I guess there's no harm done. I didn'tfeel like being in any imminent danger of perishing that way in yoursociety. You're real high-toned and ever so improving, and that's betterthan tickling, every time. And I want you to show me round thiscollection and give me a few notions. Seems to me there was considerablesand in Wiertz; sort of spread himself around a good deal, didn't he? Ipresume, though, he slept bad, nights. (_She makes the tour of theGallery, accompanied by_ CULCHARD, _who admires her, against his betterjudgment, more and more_.) ... I declare if that isn't your friend Mr.Podbury just come in! I believe I'll have to give you up to him.
CULCH. (_eagerly_). I beg you will not think it necessary. He--he has aguide already. _He_ does not require my services. And, to be plain, mypoor friend--though an excellent fellow according to his--ah--lights--isa companion whose society occasionally amounts to a positive infliction.
MISS T. Well, I find him too chinny myself, times. Likely he won'tnotice 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 Hotelentrance_.) Hier now is a shdrainch beecture. "De toughts and veesionsof a saivered haid." Fairsst meenut afder degapitation; de zagonde; detirt. 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. Rumsubject, though.
GUIDE. Yais, vary magnifique, vary grandt, and--and rom also! Dees vonrebresents Napoleon in hail. De modders show him de laigs and ahums ofdair sons keeled in de vars, and invide him to drink a cop of bloodt.
PODB. Ha, cheery picture that!
"I PRESUME, THOUGH, HE SLEPT BAD, NIGHTS."]
GUIDE. Cheery, oh, yais! Now com and beep troo dis 'ole. (PODBURY _obeyswith 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, hedries 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 domesticsubjects on view? (_He suddenly sees_ MISS TROTTER _and_ CULCHARD _withtheir 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 gonetogether. I say, I've got a guide here.
CULCH. (_drily_). So we perceive--a very sensible plan, no doubt, insome cases, my dear fellow.
PODB. (_to_ MISS T.). Do come and listen to him, most intelligentchap--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. Iexblain all de beecture.
MISS T. You're vurry obliging, Mr. Podbury, but your friend isexplaining 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. Youmustn'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, atthe other end of the room. [_They withdraw._
GUIDE. Hier is von dat is vary amusant. You know de schtory of de TreeVishes, eh?
PODB. _Macbeth_, eh? oh, I see--_Wishes_! No, what was that?
GUIDE. I dell it you. (_He tells it_; PODBURY _falls into gloomyabstraction_.) ... And inschdantly she vind a grade pig soasage at deend of her noase. 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 ofCeevilization flodderin up viz de vings, vile Brogress preaks asonder delasht 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'moff. Going to lunch somewhere with the--ah--Trotters. See you at _tabled'hote_ this evening, I suppose? Good-bye.
PODB. (_savagely_). Oh, ta-ta! (_To himself._) And that's the fellow whosaid he wanted to keep out of making friends! How the dickens am I goingto get through the time by myself? (_To_ GUIDE.) Here, that's enough forone 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, whilethe Imperfectly Educated Daughter goes on spelling out the Catalogue forher Parents' edification._