CULCH. I may return your charming candour by admitting that my--er--dismissal will be--well, not wholly without its consolations.

MISS T. Then _that's_ all right! And if you'll be obliging enough to hunt up my Poppa and send him along, I guess I can dispense with your further escort, and you can commence those consolations right away.

CULCH. (_alone_). The little vixen! Saw I was getting tired of it, and took care to strike first. Clever--but a trifle crude. But I'm free now.

Unfortunately my freedom comes too late. Podbury's _t.i.tania_ is much too enamoured of those a.s.s's ears of his----How the brute will chuckle when he hears of this! But he won't hear of it from _me_. I'll go in and pack and be off to-morrow morning before he's up!

NEXT MORNING; IN THE HALL OF THE GRAND HOTEL DANDOLO.

THE GERMAN PORTER (_a stately person in a gold-laced uniform and a white waistcoat, escaping from importunate visitors_). In von momendt, Matam, I attend to you. You want a larcher roum, Sare? You address ze manager, blease. Your dronks, Laties? I haf zem brod down, yes.

_A Lady._ Oh, Porter, we want a gondola this afternoon to go to the Lido, and _do_ try if you can get us Beppo--that _nice_ gondolier, you know, we had yesterday!

THE PORTER. Ach! I do nod know _any_ nah-ice gondolier--zey are oal--I dell you, if you lif viz zem ade mons as me, you cot your troat--yes!

ANOTHER LADY. Porter, can you tell me the name of the song that man is singing in the barge there?

PORTER. I gannot dell you ze name--pecause zey sing always ze same ting!

A HELPLESS MAN IN KNICKERBOCKERS (_drifting in at the door_). Here, I say. We engaged rooms here by telegram from Florence. What am I to give these fellows from the station? _Combien_, you know!

PORTER. You gif zem two franc--and zen zey vill gromble. You haf engage roums? yes. Zat vill pe oal rahit--Your loggage in ze gondola, yes? I haf it taken op.

THE H. M. No, it's left behind at Bologna. My friend's gone back for it.

And I say, think it will turn up all right?

PORTER. Eef you register it, and your vrient is zere, you ged it--yes.

THE H. M. Yes, but look _here_, don't you know? Oughtn't I to make a row--a fuss--about it, or something, eh?

PORTER (_moving off with subdued contempt_). Oh, you can make a foss, yes, if you like--you ged nossing!

CULCH. _and_ PODB. (_stopping him simultaneously_). I say, I want my luggage brought down from No.--in time for the twelve o'clock--(_To each other._) Hallo! are _you_ off too?

CULCH. (_confused_). Er--yes--thought I might as well be getting back.

PODB. Then I--I suppose it's all settled--with Miss T.--you know--eh?

CULCH. Fortunately--yes. And--er--_your_ engagement happily concluded?

PODB. Well, it's _concluded_, anyway. It's all _off_, you know. I--I wasn't artistic enough for her.

CULCH. She has refused you? My _dear_ Podbury, I'm really delighted to hear this--at least, that is----

PODB. Oh, don't mind _me_. I'm getting over it. But I must congratulate you on better luck.

CULCH. On precisely similar luck. Miss Trotter and I--er--arrived at the conclusion last night that we were not formed to make each other's happiness.

PODB. Did you, by Jove? Porter, I say, never mind about that luggage. Do you happen to know if Mr. and Miss Trotter--the American gentleman and his daughter--are down yet?

PORTER. Trodders? Led me see, yes, zey ged zeir preakfast early, and start two hours since for Murano and Torcello.

PODB. Torcello? Why, that's where Bob and Miss Prendergast talked of going to-day! Culchard, old fellow, I've changed my mind. Shan't leave to-day, after all. I shall just nip over and see what sort of place Torcello is.

CULCH. Torcello--"the Mother of Venice!" it really seems a pity to go away without having seen it. Do you know, Podbury, I think I'll join you!

PODB. (_not over cordially_). Come along, then--only look sharp. Sure you don't mind? Miss Trotter will be there, you know!

CULCH. Exactly; and so--I think you said--will the--er--Prendergasts.

(_To_ PORTER.) Just get us a gondola and two rowers, will you, for Torcello. And tell them to row as fast as they can!

CHAPTER XXV.

+JOURNEYS END IN LOVERS' MEETING.+

SCENE--_Near Torcello._ CULCHARD _and_ PODBURY _are seated side by side in the gondola, which is threading its way between low banks, bright with clumps of Michaelmas daisies and pomegranate-trees laden with red fruit. Both_ CULCHARD _and_ PODBURY _are secretly nervous and anxious for encouragement_.

PODBURY (_humming_ "_In Old Madrid_" _with sentiment_).

La-doodle-um-La-doodle-oo: La-doodle-um-te-dumpty-loodle-oo! I think she rather seemed to like me--those first days at Brussels, don't _you_?

CULCHARD (_absently_). Did she? I dare say. (_Whistling_ "_The Wedding March_" _softly_.) Few-fee; di-fee-fee-few-few; few-fiddledy-fee-fiddledy-few-few-few-fee. I fancy I'm right in my theory, eh?

PODB. Oh, I should say so--yes. _What_ theory?

CULCH. (_annoyed_). What theory? Why, the one I've been explaining to you for the last ten minutes!--that all this harshness of hers lately is really, when you come to a.n.a.lyse it, a decidedly encouraging symptom.

PODB. But I shouldn't have said Miss Trotter was exactly _harsh_ to me--lately, at all events.

CULCH. (_with impatience_). Miss Trotter! You! What an egoist you are, my dear fellow! I was referring to myself and Miss Prendergast. And you can't deny that, both at Nuremberg and Constance, she----

PODB. (_with careless optimism_). Oh, _she_'ll come round all right, never fear. I only wish I was half as safe with Miss Trotter!

CULCH. (_mollified_). Don't be too down-hearted, my dear Podbury. I happen to know that she likes you--she told me as much last night. Did Miss Prendergast--er--say anything to that effect about _me_?

PODB. Well,--not exactly, old chap--not to me, at least. But I say, Miss Trotter didn't tell you _that_? Not _really_? Hooray! Then it's all right--she may have me after all!

CULCH. (_chillingly_). I should advise you not to be over-confident. (_A silence follows, which endures until they reach the landing-steps at Torcello._) They _are_ here, you see--those are evidently their gondolas, I recognise those two cloaks. Now the best thing _we_ can do is to separate.

PODB. (_springing out_). Right you are! (_To himself._) I'll draw the church first and see if she's there. (_Approaches the door of Santa Maria: a Voice within, apparently reading aloud_: "_Six b.a.l.l.s, or rather almonds, of purple marble veined with white are set around the edge of the pulpit, and form its only decoration_.") Hypatia, by Jove! Narrow shave that!

[_He goes round to back._

CULCH. (_comes up to the door_). I know I shall find her here. Lucky I know that Torcello chapter in "The Stones" very nearly by heart!