A Day's Ride: A Life's Romance

It was exactly in proportion as his society was distasteful to me, that I felt a species of pride in associating with him, as though to say, “I am not one of those who must be fawned on and flattered. I am of a healthier and manlier stamp; I can afford to hear my judgments arraigned, and my opinions opposed.” And in this humor I ascended the stairs of the hotel, and entered the room where our table was already laid out.

To compensate, as far as they could, for the rude reception of the day before, they had given me now the “grand apartment” of the inn, which, by a long balcony, looked over the lake, and that fine mountain range that leads to the Splugen pass. A beautiful bouquet of fresh flowers ornamented the centre of the small dinner-table, tastily decked with Bohemian glass, and napkins with lace borders. I rather liked this little display of elegance. It was a sort of ally on my side against the utilitarian plainness of my guest. As I walked up and down the room, awaiting his arrival, I could not help a sigh, and a very deep one too, over the thought of what had been my enjoyment that moment if my guest had been one of a different temperament, – a man willing to take me on my own showing, and ready to accept any version I should like to give of myself. How gracefully, how charmingly I could have played the host to such a man! What vigor would it have imparted to my imagination, what brilliancy to my fancy! With what a princely grace might I have dispensed my hospitalities, as though such occasions were the daily habit of my life; whereas a dinner with Harpar would be nothing more or less than an airing with a “Slave in the chariot,” – a perpetual reminder, like the face of a poor relation, that my lot was cast in an humble sphere, and it was no use trying to disguise it.

“What’s all this for?” said Harpar’s harsh voice, as he entered the room. “Why did n’t you order our mutton-chop below stairs in the common room, and not a banquet in this fashion? You must be well aware I could n’t do this sort of thing by you. Why, then, have you attempted it with me?”

“I have always thought it was a host’s prerogative,” said I, meekly, “to be the arbiter of his own entertainment.”

“So it might where he is the arbiter of his purse; but you know well enough neither you nor I have any pretension to these costly ways, and they have this disadvantage, that they make all intercourse stilted and unnatural. If you and I had to sit down to table, dressed in court suits, with wigs and bags, ain’t it likely we’d be easy and cordial together? Well, this is precisely the same.”

“I am really sorry,” said I, with a forced appearance of courtesy, “to have incurred so severe a lesson, but you must allow me this one trangression before I begin to profit by it.” And so saying, I rang the bell and ordered dinner.

Harpar made no reply, but walked the room, with his hands deep in his pockets, humming a tune to himself as he went.

At last we sat down to table; everything was excellent and admirably served, but we ate on in silence, not a syllable exchanged between us. As the dessert appeared, I tried to open conversation. I affected to seem easy and unconcerned, but the cold half-stern look of my companion repelled all attempts, and I sat very sad and much discouraged, sipping my wine.

“May I order some brandy-and-water? I like it better than these French wines,” asked he, abruptly; and as I arose to ring for it, he added, “and you ‘ll not object to me having a pipe of strong Cavendish?” And therewith he produced a leather bag and a very much smoked meerschaum, short and ungainly as his own figure. As he thrust his hand into the pouch, a small boat, about the size of a lady’s thimble, rolled out from amidst the tobacco; he quickly took it and placed it in his waistcoat pocket, – the act being done with a sort of hurry that with a man of less self-possession might have perhaps evinced confusion.

“You fancy you ‘ve seen something, don’t you?” said he, with a defiant laugh. “I ‘d wager a five-pound note, if I had one, that you think at this moment you have made a great discovery. Well, there it is, make much of it!”

As he spoke, he produced the little boat, and laid it down before me. I own that this speech and the act convinced me that he was insane; I was aware that intense suspectfulness is the great characteristic of madness, and everything tended to show that he was deranged.

Rather to conceal what was passing in my own mind than out of curiosity, I took up the little toy to examine it. It was beautifully made, and finished with a most perfect neatness; the only thing I could not understand being four small holes on each side of the keel, fastened by four little plugs.

“What are these for?” asked I.

“Can’t you guess?” said he, laughingly.

“No; I have never seen such before.”

“Well,” said he, musingly, “perhaps they are puzzling, – I suppose they are. But mayhap, too, if I thought you ‘d guess the meaning, I ‘d not have been so ready to show it to you.” And with this he replaced the boat in his pocket and smoked away. “You ain’t a genius, my worthy friend, that’s a fact,” said he, sententiously.

“I opine that the same judgment might be passed upon a great many?” said I, testily.

“No,” continued he, following on his own thoughts without heeding my remark, “you ‘ll not set the Thames a-fire.”

“Is that the best test of a man’s ability?” asked I, sneeringly.

“You’re the sort of fellow that ought to be – let us see now what you ought to be, – yes, you ‘re just the stamp of man for an apothecary.”

“You are so charming in your frankness,” said I, “that you almost tempt me to imitate you.”

“And why not? Sure we oughtn’t to talk to each other like two devils in waiting. Out with what you have to say!”

“I was just thinking,” said I, – “led to it by that speculative turn of yours, – I was just thinking in what station your abilities would have pre-eminently distinguished you.”

“Well, have you hit it?”

“I’m not quite certain,” said I, trying to screw up my courage for an impertinence, “but I half suspect that in our great national works – our lines of railroad, for instance – there must be a strong infusion of men with tastes and habits resembling yours.”

“You mean the navvies?” broke he in. “You ‘re right, I was a navvy once; I turned the first spadeful of earth on the Coppleston Junction, and, seeing what a good thing might be made of it, I suggested task-work to my comrades, and we netted from four-and-six to five shillings a day each. In eight months after, I was made an inspector; so that you see strong sinews can be good allies to a strong head and a stout will.”

I do not believe that the most angry rebuke, the most sarcastic rejoinder, could have covered me with a tenth part of the shame and confusion that did these few words. I’d have given worlds, if I had them, to make a due reparation for my rudeness, but I knew not how to accomplish it I looked into his face to read if I might hit upon some trait by which his nature could be approached; but I might as well have gazed at a line of railroad to guess the sort of town that it led to. The stern, rugged, bold countenance seemed to imply little else than daring and determination, and I could not but wonder how I had ever dared to take a liberty with one of his stamp.

“Well,” said I, at last, and wishing to lead him back to his story, “and after being made inspector – ”

“You can speak German well,” said he, totally inattentive to my question; “just ask one of these people when there will be any conveyance from this to Ragatz.”

“Ragatz, of all places!” exclaimed I.

“Yes; they tell me it’s good for the rheumatics, and I have got some old shoulder pains I ‘d like to shake off before winter. And then this sprain, too; I foresee I shall not be able to walk much for some days to come.”

“Ragatz is on my road; I am about to cross the Splugen into Italy; I’ll bear you company so far, if you have no objection.”

“Well, it may not seem civil to say it, but I have an objection,” said he, rising from the table. “When I’ve got weighty things on my mind, I ‘ve a bad habit of talking of them to myself aloud. I can’t help it, and so I keep strictly alone till my plans are all fixed and settled; after that, there’s no danger of my revealing them to any one. There now, you have my reason, and you ‘ll not dispute that it’s a good one.”

“You may not be too distrustful of yourself,” said I, laughing, “but, assuredly, you are far too flattering in your estimate of my acuteness.”

“I’ll not risk it,” said he, bluntly, as he sought for his hat.

“Wait a moment,” said I. “You told me at Constance that you were in want of money; at the time I was not exactly in funds myself. Yesterday, however, I received a remittance; and if ten or twenty pounds be of any service, they are heartily at your disposal.”

He looked at me fixedly, almost sternly, for a minute or two, and then said, —

“Is this true, or is it that you have changed your mind about me?”

“True,” said I, – “strictly true.”

“Will this loan – I mean it to be a loan – inconvenience you much?”

“No, no; I make you the offer freely.”

“I take it, then. Let me have ten pounds; and write down there an address where I am to remit it some day or other, though I can’t say when.”

“There may be some difficulty about that,” said I. “Stay. I mean to be at Rome some time in the winter; send it to me there.”

“To what banker?”

“I have no banker; I never had a banker. There’s my name, and let the post-office be the address.”

“Whichever way you ‘re bent on going, you ‘re not on the road to be a rich man,” said Harpar, as he deposited my gold in his leather purse; “but I hope you ‘ll not lose by me. Good-bye.” He gave me his hand, not very warmly or cordially, either, and was gone ere I well knew it.

CHAPTER XXXVII. MY EXPLOSION AT THE TABLE D’HÔTE

I went the next morning to take leave of Harpar before starting, but found, to my astonishment, that he was already off! He had, I learned, hired a small carriage to convey him to Bregenz, and had set out before daybreak. I do not know why this should have annoyed me, but it did so, and set me a-thinking over the people whom Echstein in his “Erfahrungen,” says, are born to be dupes. “There is,” says he, “a race of men who are 'eingeborne Narren,’ – ‘native numskulls,’ one might say, – who muddy the streams of true benevolence by indiscriminating acts of kindness, and who, by always aiding the wrongdoer, make themselves accomplices of vice.” Could it be that I was in this barren category? Harpar had told me, the evening before, that he would not leave Lindau till his sprain was better, and now he was off, just as if, having no further occasion for me, he was glad to be rid of my companionship – just as if – I was beginning again to start another conjecture, when I bethought me that there is not a more deceptive formula in the whole cyclopaedia of delusion than that which opens with these same words, “just as if.” Rely upon it, amiable reader, that whenever you find yourself driven to explain a motive, trace a cause, or reconcile a discrepancy, by “just as if,” the chances are about seven to three you are wrong. If I was not in the bustle of paying my bill and strapping on my knapsack, I ‘d convince you on this head; but, as the morning is a bright but mellow one of early autumn, and my path lies along the placid lake, waveless and still, with many a tinted tree reflected in its fair mirror, let us not think of knaves and rogues, but rather dwell on the pleasanter thought of all the good and grateful things which daily befall us in this same life of ours. I am full certain that almost all of us enter upon what is called the world in too combative a spirit We are too fond of dragon slaying, and rather than be disappointed of our sport, we ‘d fall foul of a pet lamb, for want of a tiger. Call it self-delusion, credulity, what you will, it is a faith that makes life very livable, and, without it,

“We feel a light has left the world,
A nameless sort of treasure,
As though one pluck’d the crimson heart