[CULCHARD, _on reflection, adopts this suggestion, and the_ ITALIAN GENTLEMAN, _after fluttering feebly about the coupe door, is unceremoniously bundled by the_ CONDUCTOR _into the hinder part of the diligence._

IN THE BERNARDINO Pa.s.s, DURING THE ASCENT.

CULCH. Glorious view one gets at each fresh turn of the road, Podbury!

Look at Hinter-rhein, far down below there, like a toy village, and that vast desolate valley, with the grey river rushing through it, and the green glacier at the end, and these awful snow-covered peaks all round--_look_, man!

[Ill.u.s.tration: AN ELDERLY ENGLISHWOMAN IS SITTING ON HER TRUNK.]

PODB. I'm looking, old chap. It's all there, right enough!

CULCH. (_vexed_). It doesn't seem to be making any particular impression on you, I must say!

PODB. It's making me deuced peckish, I know that--how about lunch, eh!

CULCH. (_pained_). We are going through scenery like this, and all you think of is--lunch! (PODBURY _opens a basket.)_ You may give me one of those sandwiches. What made you get _veal_? and the bread's all crust, too! Thanks, I'll take some claret.... (_They lunch; the vehicle meanwhile toils up to the head of the Pa.s.s._) Dear me, we're at the top already! These rocks shut out the valley altogether--much colder at this height, eh? Don't you find this keen air most exhilarating?

PODB. (_shivering_). Oh very, do you mind putting your window up?

Thanks. You seem uncommon chirpy to-day. Beginning to get _over_ it, eh?

CULCH. We shan't get over it for some hours yet.

PODB. I didn't mean the Pa.s.s, I meant--(_hesitating_)--well, your little affair with Miss Prendergast, you know.

CULCH. My little affair? Get over? (_He suddenly understands._) Oh, ah, to be sure. Yes, thank you, my dear fellow, it is not making me _particularly_ unhappy. [_He goes into a fit of silent laughter._

PODB. Glad to hear it. (_To himself._) 'Jove, if he only knew what _I_ know! [_He chuckles._

CULCH. _You_ don't appear to be exactly heartbroken?

PODB. I? why _should_ I be--about _what_?

CULCH. (_with an affectation of reserve_). Exactly, I was forgetting.

(_To himself._) It's really rather humorous. (_He laughs again._) Ha, we're beginning to go down now. Hey for Italy--la bella Italia! (_The diligence takes the first curve._) Good Heavens, what a turn! We're going at rather a sharp pace for downhill, eh? I suppose these Swiss drivers know what they're about, though.

PODB. Oh, yes, generally--when they're not drunk. I can only see this fellow's boots--but they look to me a trifle squiffy.

CULCH. (_inspecting them, anxiously)_. He does seem to drive very recklessly. _Look_ at those leaders--heading right for the precipice....

Ah, just saved it! How we do lurch in swinging round!

PODB. Topheavy--I expect, too much luggage on board--have another sandwich?

CULCH. Not for me, thanks. I say, I wonder if it's safe, having no parapet, only these stone posts, eh?

PODB. Safe enough--unless the wheel catches one--it was as near as a toucher just then--aren't you going to smoke? No? _I_ am. By the way, what were you so amused about just now, eh?

CULCH. _Was_ I amused? (_The vehicle gives another tremendous lurch._) Really, this is _too_ horrible!

PODB. (_with secret enjoyment._) We're right enough, if the horses don't happen to stumble. That off-leader isn't over sure-footed--did you see _that_? (CULCH. _shudders._) But what's the joke about Miss Prendergast?

CULCH. (_irritably_). Oh, for Heaven's sake, don't bother about that _now_! I've something else to think about. My goodness, we were nearly over that time! What are you looking at?

PODB. (_who has been leaning forward_). Only one of the traces--they've done it up with a penny ball of string, but I dare say it will stand the strain. You aren't _half_ enjoying the view, old fellow.

CULCH. Yes, I am. Magnificent!--glorious!--isn't it?

PODB. Find you see it better with your eyes shut? But I say, I wish you'd explain what you were sn.i.g.g.e.ring at.

CULCH. Take my advice, and don't press me, my dear fellow; you may regret it if you do!

PODB. I'll risk it. It must be a devilish funny joke to tickle you like that. Come, out with it!

CULCH. Well, if you must know, I was laughing.... Oh, he'll _never_ get those horses round in.... I was--er--rather amused by your evident a.s.sumption that I must have been _rejected_ by Miss Prendergast.

PODB. Oh, was _that_ it? And you're nothing of the kind, eh?

[_He chuckles again._

CULCH. (_with dignity_). No doubt you will find it very singular; but, as a matter of fact, she--well, she most certainly did not _discourage_ my pretensions.

PODB. The deuce she didn't! Did she tell you Ruskin's ideas about courtship being a probation, and ask you if you were ready to be under vow for her, by any chance?

CULCH. This is too bad, Podbury! you must have been there, or you couldn't possibly know!

PODB. Much obliged, I'm sure. I don't listen behind doors, as a general thing. I suppose, now, she set you a trial of some kind, to prove your mettle, eh? [_With another chuckle._

CULCH. (_furiously_). Take care--or I may tell you more than you bargain for!

PODB. Go on--never mind _me_. Bless you, _I'm_ under vow for her too, my dear boy. Fact!

CULCH. That's impossible, and I can prove it. The service she demanded was, that I should leave Constance at once--with you. Do you understand--with _you_, Podbury!

PODB. (_with a prolonged whistle_). My aunt!

CULCH. (_severely_). You may invoke every female relative you possess in the world, but it won't alter the fact, and that alone ought to convince you----

PODB. Hold on a bit. Wait till you've heard _my_ penance. She told me to cart _you_ off. _Now_, then!

CULCH. (_faintly_). If I thought she'd been trifling with us both like that, I'd never----

PODB. She's no end of a clever girl, you know. And, after all, she may only have wanted time to make up her mind.

CULCH. (_violently_). I tell you _what_ she is--she's a cold-blooded pedantic prig, and a systematic flirt! I loathe and detest a prig, but a flirt I despise--yes, _despise_, Podbury!

PODB. (_with only apparent irrelevance_). The same to you, and many of 'em, old chap! Hullo, we're going to stop at this inn. Let's get out and stretch our legs and have some coffee.

[_They do; on returning, they find the_ ITALIAN GENTLEMAN _smiling blandly at them from inside the coupe._