CHAPTER XXIII.

+PEARLS AND PIGS.+

SCENE--_The Lower Hall of the Scuola di San Rocco, Venice. British Tourists discovered studying the Tintorets on the walls and ceiling by the aid of Ruskin, Hare, and Bædeker, from which they read aloud, instructively, to one another._ MISS PRENDERGAST _has brought "The Stones of Venice" for the benefit of her brother and_ PODBURY. _Long self-repression has reduced_ PODBURY _to that unpleasantly hysterical condition known as "a fit of the giggles," which, however, has hitherto escaped detection_.

MISS P. (_standing opposite "The Flight into Egypt" reading_). "One of the principal figures here is the Donkey." Where _is_ Mr. Podbury? [_To_ P., _who reappears, humbly proffering a tin focussing-case_.] Thanks, but you need not have troubled! "The Donkey ... um--um--never seen--um--um--any of the nobler animals so sublime as this quiet head of the domestic ass"--(_here_ BOB _digs_ PODBURY _in the ribs behind_ MISS P.'S _back_)--"chiefly owing to the grand motion in the nostril, and writhing in the ears." (_A spasmodic choke from_ PODBURY.) May I ask what you find so amusing?

PODB. (_crimson_). I--I _beg_ your pardon--I don't know _what_ I was laughing at exactly. (_Aside to_ BOB.) _Will_ you shut up, confound you!

A STOUT LADY (_close by, reading from Hare_). "The whole symmetry of it depending on a narrow line of light." (_Dubiously, to her Daughter._) I don't _quite_--oh yes, I do now--that's it--where my sunshade is--"the edge of a carpenter's square, which connects those unused tools" ... h'm--can _you_ make out the "unused tools," Ethel? _I_ can't.... But he says--"The Ruined House is the Jewish Dispensation." Now I should never have found _that_ out for myself. (_They pass to another canvas._) "Tintoret denies himself all aid from the features.... No time allowed for watching the expression."... (That reminds me--what _is_ the time by your bracelet, darling?) "No blood, no stabbing, or cutting ... but an awful substitute for these in the chiaroscuro." (Ah, yes, indeed! Do you see it, love?--in the right-hand corner.) "So that our eyes "--(_comfortably_)--"seem to become blood-shot, and strained with strange horror, and deadly vision." (Not one o'clock, _really_?--and we've to meet Papa outside Florian's for lunch at one-thirty! Dear me, we mustn't stay too long over this room.)

A SOLEMN GENTLEMAN (_struggling with a troublesome cough, who is also provided with Hare, reading aloud to his wife_). "Further enhanced by--rook--rook--rook!--a largely-made--rook--ook!--farm-servant, leaning on a ork-ork--ork--ork--or--ook!--basket. Shall I--ork!--go on?"

HIS WIFE. Yes, dear, do, _please_! It makes one notice things so _much_ more! [_The_ SOLEMN GENTLEMAN _goes on_.

MISS P. (_as they reach the staircase_). Now just look at this Titian, Mr. Podbury! Ruskin particularly mentions it. Do note the mean and petty folds of the drapery, and compare them with those in the Tintorets in there.

PODB. (_obediently_). Yes, I will,--a--did you mean _now_--and will it take me long, because---- [MISS PRENDERGAST _sweeps on scornfully_.

PODB. (_following, with a desperate effort to be intelligent_). They don't seem to have any Fiammingoes here.

MISS P. (_freezingly, over her shoulder_). Any _what_, Mr. Podbury? Flamingoes?

PODB. (_confidently, having noted down the name at the Accademia on his shirt-cuff_). No, "Ignoto Fiammingo," don't you know. I like that chap's style--what I call thoroughly Venetian.

[_Well-informed persons in front overhear and smile._

MISS P. (_annoyed_). That is rather strange--because "Ignoto Fiammingo" happens to be merely the Italian for "an unknown Fleming," Mr. Podbury. [_Collapse of_ PODBURY.

BOB. (_aside to_ PODBURY). You great owl, you came a cropper _that_ time!

[_He and_ PODBURY _indulge in a subdued bear-fight up the stairs, after which they enter the Upper Hall in a state of preternatural solemnity_.

THE SOLEMN G. Now what _I_ want to see, my dear, is the ork--ork--angel that Ruskin thinks Tintoretto painted the day after he saw a rook--kic--kic--kic--kingfisher.

[BOB _nudges_ PODBURY, _who resists temptation heroically_.

MISS P. (_reading_).... "the fig-tree which, by a curious caprice, has golden ribs to all its leaves."--Do you see the ribs, Mr. Podbury?

PODB. (_feebly_). Y--yes. I _believe_ I do. Think they grew that sort of fig-tree formerly, or is it--a--_allegorical_?

MISS P. (_receiving this query in crushing silence_). The ceiling requires careful study. Look at that oblong panel in the centre--with the fiery serpents, which Ruskin finely compares to "winged lampreys." You're not looking in the right way to see them, Mr. Podbury!

PODB. (_faintly_). I--I did see them--_all_ of them, on my honour I did! But it gives me such a crick in my neck!

MISS P. Surely Tintoret is worth a crick in the neck. Did you observe "the intense delight in biting expressed in their eyes"?

BOB. (_frivolously_). _I_ did, 'Patia--exactly the same look I observed last night, in a mosquito's eye.

[PODBURY _has to use his handkerchief violently_.

THE STOUT LADY. Now, Ethel, we can just spend ten minutes on the ceiling--and then we _must_ go. That's evidently Jonah in the small oval (_referring to plan_). Yes, I thought so,--it _is_ Jonah. Ruskin considers "the whale's tongue much too large, unless it is a kind of crimson cushion for Jonah to kneel upon." Well, why _not_?

ETHEL. A cushion, Mother? what, _inside_ the whale!

THE STOUT LADY. That we are not _told_, my love--"The submissiveness of Jonah is well given"--So true--but Papa can't bear being kept waiting for his lunch--we really ought to go now. [_They go._

THE SOLEMN G. (_reading_). "There comes up out of the mist a dark hand." Have _you_ got the dark hand yet, my dear?

HIS WIFE. No, dear, only the mist. At least, there's something that _may_ be a branch; or a _bird_ of some sort.

THE S. G. Ha, it's full of suggestion, full of suggestion!

[_He passes on, coughing._

MISS P. (_to_ PODBURY, _who is still quivering_). Now notice the end one--"the Fall of Manna"--not _that_ end; that's the "Fall of _Man_." Ruskin points out (_reading_) "A very sweet incident. Four or five sheep, instead of pasturing, turn their heads to catch the manna as it comes down" (_here_ BOB _catches_ PODBURY'S _eye_), "or seem to be licking it off each other's fleeces." (PODBURY _is suddenly convulsed by inexplicable and untimely mirth_.) Really, Mr. Podbury, this is _too_ disgraceful!

[_She shuts the book sharply and walks away._

OUTSIDE; BY THE LANDING STEPS.

MISS P. Bob, go on and get the gondola ready. I wish to speak to Mr. Podbury. (_To_ PODBURY, _after_ BOB _has withdrawn_.) Mr. Podbury, I cannot tell you how disgusted and disappointed I feel at your senseless irreverence.

PODB. (_penitently_). I--I'm really most awfully sorry--but it came over me suddenly, and I simply couldn't help myself!

MISS P. That is what makes it so very hopeless--after all the pains I have taken with you! I have been beginning to fear for some time that you are incorrigible--and to-day is really the _last_ straw! So it is kinder to let you know at once that you have been tried and found wanting. I have no alternative but to release you finally from your vows--I cannot allow you to remain my suitor any longer.

PODB. (_humbly_). I was always afraid I shouldn't last the course, don't you know. I did my best--but it wasn't _in_ me, I suppose. It was awfully good of you to put up with me so long. And, I say, you won't mind our being friends still, will you now?

MISS P. Of course not. I shall always wish you well, Mr. Podbury--only I won't trouble you to accompany me to any more galleries!

PODB. A--thanks. I--I mean, I know I should only be in your way and all that. And--I'd better say good-bye, Miss Prendergast. You won't want me in the gondola just now, I'm sure. I can easily get another.

MISS P. Well--good-bye then, Mr. Podbury. I will explain to Bob.

[_She steps into the gondola_; BOB _raises his eyebrows in mute interrogation at_ PODBURY, _who shakes his head, and allows the gondola to go without him_.

PODB. (_to himself as the gondola disappears_). So _that's_ over! Hanged if I don't think I'm sorry, after all. It will be beastly lonely without anybody to bully me, and she could be awfully nice when she chose.... Still it _is_ a relief to have got rid of old Tintoret, and not to have to bother about Bellini and Cima and that lot.... How that beggar Culchard will crow when he hears of it! Shan't tell him anything--if I can help it.... But the worst of getting the sack is--people are almost _bound_ to spot you.... I think I'll be off to-morrow. I've had enough of Venice!