CHAPTER XV.

+Culchard comes out Nobly.+

SCENE--_The Table d'Hôte at Lugano_; CULCHARD _has not yet caught_ MISS PRENDERGAST'S _eye_.

CULCHARD (_to_ MR. BELLERBY). Have you--ah--been up Monte Generoso yet?

MR. B. No. (_After reflecting._) No, I haven't. But I was greatly struck by its remarkably bold outline from below. Indeed, I dashed off a rough sketch of it on the back of one of my visiting cards. I ought to have it somewhere about me now. (_Searching himself._) Ah, I thought so! (_Handing a vague little scrawl to_ CULCHARD, _who examines it with the deepest interest_.) I knock off quite a number of these while I'm abroad like this. Send 'em in letters to relatives at home--gives them a notion of the place. They are--ar--kind enough to value them. (CULCHARD _makes a complimentary mumble_.) Yes, I'm a very rapid sketcher. Put me with regular artists, and give us half an hour, and I--ar--venture to say I should be on terms with them. Make it _three_ hours, and--well, I dare say I shouldn't be in it.

PODBURY (_who has dropped into the chair next to_ MISS PRENDERGAST _and her brother_). Bob, old chap, I'll come in the middle, if you don't mind. I say, this _is_ ripping--no idea of coming across you so soon as this. (_Lowering his voice, to_ MISS P.) Still pegging away at my "penance," you see!

MISS PREND. The pleasure is more than mutual; but do I understand that Mr.----? So _tiresome_, I left my glasses up in my room!

[_She peers up and down the line of faces on her own side of the table._

MISS T. (_to_ CULCH.). I want you should notice that girl. I think she looks just as nice as she can be, don't you?

CULCH. (_carefully looking in every other direction_). I--er--mumble--mumble--don't exactly----

[_Here a Waiter offers him a dish containing layers of soles disguised under brown sauce_; CULCHARD _mangles it with an ineffectual spoon. The Waiter, with pitying contempt_, "_Tut-tut-tut! Pesce, Signore--feesh!_" CULCH. _eventually lands a sole in a very damaged condition_.

PODB. (_to_ MISS P.). No--not this side--just opposite. (_Here_ CULCH., _in fingering a siphon which is remarkably stiff on the trigger, contrives to send a spray across the table and sprinkle_ MISS PRENDERGAST, _her brother, and_ PODBURY, _with impartial liberality_). _Now_ don't you see him? As playful as ever, isn't he! Don't try to make out it was an accident, old fellow. Miss Prendergast knows you! [_Misery of_ CULCHARD.

MISS P. (_graciously_). Pray don't apologize, Mr. Culchard; not the least harm done! You must forgive me for not recognizing you before, but you know of old how provokingly short-sighted I am, and I've forgotten my glasses.

CULCH. (_indistinctly_). I--er--not at all ... most distressed, I assure you ... really no notion----

MISS T. (_in an undertone_). Say, you _know_ her, then? And you never let on!

CULCH. Didn't I? Oh, surely! yes, I've--er--_met_ that lady. (_With grateful deference to_ MR. BELLERBY, _who has just addressed him._) You are an Art-Collector? Indeed? And--er--have you--er--?

MR. B. I've the three finest Bodgers in the kingdom, Sir, and there's a Gubbins--a _Joe_ Gubbins, mind you, not _John_--that's hanging now in the morning-room of my place in the country that I wouldn't take a thousand pounds for! I go about using my eyes, and pick 'em up cheap. Cheapest picture _I_ ever bought was a Prout--thirty-two by twenty; got it for two pound ten! Unfinished, of course, but it only wanted the colour being brought up to the edge. _I_ did that. Took me half a day, and _now_--well, any dealer would give me hundreds for it! But I shall leave it to the nation, out of respect for Prout's memory.

BOB PR. (_to_ PODBURY). Yes, came over by the St. Gothard. Who is that girl who was talking to Culchard just now? Do you know her? I say, I wish you'd introduce me some time.

MISS T. (_to_ CULCHARD). You don't seem vurry bright this evening. I'd like you to converse with your friend opposite, so I could get a chance to chip in. I'm ever so interested in that girl!

CULCH. Presently--presently, if I have an opportunity. (_Hastily to_ MR. B.) I gather that you paint yourself, Sir?

MR. B. Well, yes. I assure you I often go to a Gallery, see a picture there that takes my fancy, go back to my office, and paint it in half an hour from memory--so like the original that, if it were framed, and hung up alongside, it would puzzle the man who painted it to know t'other from which! I have indeed! I paint original pictures, too. Most important thing I ever did was--let me see now--three feet by two and three-quarters. I was most successful in getting an effect of rose-coloured snow against the sky. I sponged it up, and--well, it came right somehow. _Luck_, that was, not skill, you know. I sent that picture to the Royal Academy, and they did me the honour to--ar--reject it.

CULCH. (_vaguely_). An--er--honour, indeed.--(_In despair, as_ MR. B. _rises._)--You----You're not _going!_

MR. B. (_consolingly_). Only into the garden, for coffee. I observe you are interested in Art. We will--ar--resume this conversation later.

[_Rises_; MISS PRENDERGAST _rises too, and goes towards the garden._

CULCH. (_as he follows, hastily_). I must get this business over--if I can. But I wish I knew exactly _how_ much to tell her. It's really very awkward--between the two of them. I'm afraid I've been a little too precipitate.

IN THE GARDEN; A FEW MINUTES LATER.

MISS PREND. (_who has retired to fetch her glasses--with gracious playfulness_). Well, Mr. Culchard, and how has my knight performed his lady's behests?

CULCH. May I ask _which_ knight you refer to?

MISS P. (_slightly changing countenance_). Which! Then--you know there is another? Surely there is nothing in that circumstance to--to offend--or hurt you?

CULCH. Offended? (_Considers whether this would be a good line to take._) Hardly _that_. Hurt? Well, I confess to being pained--very much pained, to discover that I was unconsciously pitted--against Podbury!

MISS P. But why? I have expressed no preference as yet. You can scarcely have become so attached to him that you dread the result of a successful rivalry!

CULCH. (_to himself_). It's a loop-hole--I'll try it. (_Aloud._) You have divined my feeling exactly. In--er--obeying your commands, I have learned to know Podbury better--to see in him a sterling nature, more worthy, in some respects, than my own. And I know how deeply he has centred all his hopes upon you, Miss Prendergast. Knowing, seeing that as I--er--_do_, I feel that--whatever it costs me--I cannot run the risk of wrecking the--er--life's happiness of so good a fellow. So you must really allow me to renounce vows accepted under--er--an imperfect comprehension of the--er--facts! [_Wipes his brow._

MISS P. This is quite too Quixotic. Reflect, Mr. Culchard. Is such a sacrifice demanded of you? I assure you I am perfectly neutral at present. I _might_ prefer Mr. Podbury. I _really_ don't know. And--and I don't _like_ losing one of my suitors like this!

CULCH. Don't tempt me! I--I mustn't listen, I cannot. No, I renounce. Be kind to Podbury--try to recognize the good in him ... he is so devoted to you--make him happy, if you can!

MISS P. (_affected_). I--I really can't tell you how touched I am, Mr. Culchard. I can guess what this renunciation must have cost you. It--it gives me a better opinion of human nature ... it does, indeed!

CULCH. (_loftily, as she rises to go in_). Ah, Miss Prendergast, _don't_ lose your faith in human nature! Trust me, it is--er--full of surprises! (_Alone._) Now am I an abominable humbug, or what? I swear I felt every word I said, at the time. Curious psychological state to be in. But I'm out of what might have been a very unpleasant mess, at all events!

MISS T. (_coming upon him from round a corner_). Well, I'm _sure_, Mr. Culchard!

CULCH. You are a young lady of naturally strong convictions, I am aware. But what are you so sure of at the present moment?

MISS T. Well, I guess I'm not just as sure of _you_ as I should like to be, anyway. Seems to me, considering you've been so vurry inconsolable away from me, you'd a good deal to say to that young lady in the patent folders. And I'd like an explanation--you're right down splendid at explaining most things.

CULCH. (_with virtuous indignation_). So you actually suspect me of having carried on a flirtation!

MISS T. I guess girls don't use their pocket-handkerchiefs that way over the weather. Who _is_ she, anyway?

CULCH. (_calmly_). If you insist on knowing, she is the lady to whom Mr. Podbury has every prospect of being engaged. I hope your mind is at ease _now_?

MISS T. Well, I expect my mind would have stood the strain as it was--so it's Mr. Podbury who's her admirer? See here, you're going to introduce me to that girl right away. It's real romantic, and I'm perfectly dying to make her acquaintance!

CULCH. Hum--well. She is--er--_peculiar_, don't you know, and I rather doubt whether you will have much in common.

MISS T. Well, if you don't introduce me, I shall introduce myself, that's all.

CULCH. By all means. (_To himself._) Not if _I_ can prevent it, though!