The Travelling Companions: A Story in Scenes

Culch. It would not be at all the same thing – even if he – but you do think you're coming to Nuremberg, don't you?

Miss T. Well, it's this way. Poppa don't want to get fooling around any more one-horse towns than he can help, and he's got to be fixed up with the idea that Nuremberg is a prominent European sight before he drops everything to get there.

Culch. I will undertake to interest him in Nuremberg. Fortunately, we are all getting off at Bingen, and going, curiously enough, to the same hotel. (To himself.) Confound that fellow Podbury, here he is again!

Podb. (to himself, as he advances). If she's carrying on with that fellow, Culchard, to provoke me, I'll soon show her how little I – (Aloud.) I say, old man, hope I'm not interrupting you, but I just want to speak to you for a minute, if Miss Trotter will excuse us. Is there any particular point in going as far as Bingen to-night, eh?

Culch. (resignedly). As much as there is in not going farther than somewhere else, I should have thought.

Podb. Well, but look here – why not stop at Bacharach, and see what sort of a place it is?

Culch. You forget that our time is limited if we're going to stick to our original route.

Podb. Yes, of course; mustn't waste any on the Rhine. Suppose we push on to Maintz to-night, and get the Rhine off our hands then? (With a glance at Miss Trotter.) The sooner I've done with this steamer business the better!

Miss T. Well, Mr. Podbury, that's not a vurry complimentary remark to make before me!

Podb. We've seen so little of one another lately that it can hardly make much difference – to either of us – can it?

Miss T. Now I call that real kind, you're consoling me in advance!

The Steward (coming up). De dickets dat I haf nod yed seen! (examining Culchard's coupons). For Bingen – so?

Culch. I am. This gentleman gets off – is it Bacharach or Maintz, Podbury?

Podb. (sulkily). Neither, as it happens. I'm for Bingen, too, as you won't go anywhere else. Though you did say when we started, that the advantage of travelling like this was that we could go on or stop just as the fancy took us!

Culch. (calmly). I did, my dear Podbury. But it never occurred to me that the fancy would take you to get tired of a place before you got there!

Podb. (as he walks forwards). Hang that fellow! I know I shall punch his head some day. And She didn't seem to care whether I stayed or not. (Hopefully.) But you never can tell with women!

[He returns to his camp-stool and the letter-reading Old Ladies.

CHAPTER VI.

Culchard makes a little Miscalculation

Scene. —Garden of the Hotel Victoria at Bingen, commanding a view of the Rhine and the vine-terraced hills, which are bathed in warm afternoon sunlight. Under the mopheaded acacias, Culchard and Podbury are sitting smoking. At a little distance from them, are a Young Married Couple, whose honeymoon is apparently in its last quarter.

The Bridegroom (lazily, to Bride, as she draws another chair towards her for a foot-rest). How many more chairs do you want?

Bride (without looking at him). I should think you could spare me one – you can hardly sit on three at once!

[After this interchange of amenities, they consider themselves absolved from any further conversational efforts.

Podb. (to Culch., resuming a discussion). I know as well as you do that we are booked for Nuremberg; but what I say is – that's no earthly reason why we should go there!

Culch. No reason why you should go, unless you wish it, certainly. I intend to go.

Podb. Well, it's beastly selfish, that's all! I know why you're so keen about it, too. Because the Trotters are going.

Culch. (colouring). That's an entire mistake on your part. Miss Trotter has nothing to do with it. I don't even know whether she's going or not – for certain.

Podb. No, but you've a pretty good idea that she is, though. And I know how it will be. You'll be going about with her all the time, and I shall be shunted on to the old man! I don't see it, you know! (Culch. remains silent. A pause. Podbury suddenly begins to search his pockets.) I say – here's a pretty fix! Look here, old fellow, doosid annoying thing, but I can't find my purse – must have lost it somewhere!

Culch. (stoically). I can't say I'm surprised to hear it. It's awkward, certainly. I suppose I shall have to lend you enough to go home with – it's all I can do; but I'll do that with – er – pleasure.

Podb. (staring). Go home? Why, I can wire to the governor for more, easily enough. We shall have to stay here till it comes, that's all.

Culch. And give up Nuremberg? Thank you!

Podb. I rather like this place, you know – sort of rest. And we could always nip over to Ems, or Homburg, if it got too slow, eh?

Culch. If I nip over anywhere, I shall nip to Nuremberg. We may just as well understand one another, Podbury. If I'm to provide money for both of us, it's only reasonable that you should be content to go where I choose. I cannot, and will not, stand these perpetual interferences with our original plan; it's sheer restlessness. Come with me to Nuremberg, and I shall be very happy to be your banker. Otherwise, you must stay here alone. [He compresses his lips and crosses his legs.

Podb. Oh, that's it, is it? But look here, why not tit up whether we go on or stay?

Culch. Why should I "tit up," as you call it, when I've already made up my mind to go? When I once decide on anything, it's final.

The Bride (to Bridegroom, without enthusiasm). Would you like me to roll you a cigarette?

Bridegroom (with the frankness of an open nature). Not if I know it. I can do it better myself.

Bride (coldly). I see.

[Another silence, at the end of which she rises and walks slowly away, pausing at the gate to see whether he intends to follow. As he does not appear to have remarked her absence, she walks on.

Podb. (to Culch., in an undertone). I say, those two don't seem to hit it off exactly, eh? Seem sorry they came! You'll be glad to hear, old fellow, that we needn't separate after all. Just found my purse in my trouser-pocket!

Culch. Better luck than you deserve. Didn't I tell you you should have a special pocket for your money and coupons? Like this – see. (He opens his coat) With a buttoned flap, it stands to reason they must be safe!

Podb. So long as you keep it buttoned, old chap, – which you don't seem to do!

Culch. (annoyed). Pshaw! The button is a trifle too – (feels pocket, and turns pale). Good Heavens, it – it's gone!

Podb. The button?

Culch. (patting himself all over with shaking hands). Everything! – money, coupons, circular notes! They – they must have fallen out going up that infernal Niederwald. (Angrily.) You would insist on going!

Podb. Phew! The whole bag of tricks gone! You're lucky if you get them again. Any number of tramps and beggars all the way up. Shouldn't have taken off your coat – very careless of you! (He grins.)

Culch. It was so hot. I must go and inform the Police here – I may recover it yet. Anyway, we – we must push on to Nuremberg, and I'll telegraph home for money to be sent here. You can let me have enough to get on with?

Podb. With all the pleasure in life, dear boy – on your own conditions, you know. I mean, if I pay the piper, I call the tune. Now, I don't cotton to Nuremberg somehow; I'd rather go straight on to Constance; we could get some rowing there.

Culch. (pettishly). Rowing be – (recollecting his helplessness). No; but just consider, my dear Podbury. I assure you you'll find Nuremberg a most delightful old place. You must see how bent I am on going there!

Podb. Oh, yes, I see that. But then I'm not, don't you know – so there we are!