by F. Anstey
CHAPTER III.
_Culchard comes out of his Shell._
SCENE--_On the Coach from Braine l'Alleud to Waterloo. The vehicle has a Belgian driver, but the conductor is a true-born Briton._ MR. CYRUS K. TROTTER _and his daughter are behind with_ PODBURY. CULCHARD, _who is not as yet sufficiently on speaking terms with his friend to ask for an introduction, is on the box-seat in front._
MR. TROTTER. How are you getting along, Maud? Your seat prettycomfortable?
MISS TROTTER. Well, I guess it would be about as luxurious if it hadn'tgot a chunk of wood nailed down the middle--it's not going to have anyone confusing it with a bed of roses _just_ yet. (_To_ PODB.) Yourfriend mad about anything? He don't seem to open his head more'n he'sobliged to. I presume he don't approve of your taking up with me andfather--he keeps away from us considerable, I notice.
PODB. (_awkwardly_). Oh--er--I wouldn't say that, but he's a queer kindof chap rather, takes prejudices into his head and all that. I wouldn'ttrouble about him if I were you--not worth it, y' know.
MISS T. Thanks--but it isn't going to shorten my existence any.
[CULCH. _overhears all this, with feelings that may be imagined._
BELGIAN DRIVER (_to his horses_). Pullep! Allez vite! Bom-bom-bom!Alright!
CONDUCTOR (_to_ CULCHARD). 'E's very proud of 'is English, _'e_ is.'Ere, Jewls, ole feller, show the gen'lm'n 'ow yer can do a swear.(_Belgian Driver utters a string of English imprecations with the utmostfluency and good-nature._) 'Ark at 'im now! Bust my frogs! (_Admiringly,and not_ _without a sense of the appropriateness of the phrase._) Buthe's a caution, Sir, ain't he? _I_ taught him most o' what he knows!
A FRENCH PASSENGER (_to_ CONDUCTOR). Dis donc, mon ami, est-ce qu'onpeut voir d'ici le champ de bataille?
COND. (_with proper pride_). It ain't no use your torkin _to me_,Mossoo; I don't speak no French myself. (_To_ CULCHARD.) See that fieldthere, Sir?
CULCH. (_interested_). On the right? Yes; what happened _there_?
COND. Fine lot o' rabbits inside o' there--big fat 'uns. (_To anotherPassenger._) No, Sir, that ain't Belly Lions as you see from 'ere;that's Mon Sin Jeean, and over there Oogymong, and Challyroy to theleft.
ON THE TOP OF THE MOUND.
CULCHARD, _who has purchased a map in the Waterloo Museum as a means of approaching_ MISS TROTTER, _is pounced upon by an elderly Belgian Guide in a blue blouse, from whom he finds it difficult to escape._
THE GUIDE (_fixing_ CULCHARD _with a pair of rheumy eyes and a gnarledforefinger_). You see vere is dat schmall voodt near de vite 'ouse? notdere, along my shdeek--so. Dat is vare Peecton vas kill, Inglis Officer,Peecton. Two days pefore he was voundet in de ahum. 'E say to hissairvan', "You dell ennipoddies, I keel you!" He vandt to pe in zebataille: he _vas_ in ze bataille--seven lance troo 'im, seven; Peecton,Inglis Officer. (CULCHARD _nods his head miserably._) Hah, you 'ave deshart dere--open 'im out vide, dat de odder shentilmans see. (CULCHARD_obeys, spell-bound._) Vare you see dat blue gross, Vaterloo Shirshe,vere Loart Uxbreedge lose 'is laig. Zey cot 'im off and pury him in zecottyardt, and a villow grow oudt of 'im. 'E com 'ere to see the villowgrowing oudt of his laig.
CULCH. (_abandoning his map, and edging towards_ MISS TROTTER). Hem--weare gazing upon one of the landmarks of our national history--MissTrotter.
MISS T. That's a vurry interesting re-mark. I presume you must havestudied up some for a reflection of that kind. Mr. Podbury, your friendhas been telling me----, [_She repeats_ CULCHARD'S _remark_.
PODB. (_with interest_). Got any _more_ of those, old fellow?
[CULCHARD _moves away with disgusted hauteur_.
THE GUIDE (_re-capturing him_). Along dat gross vay, Vellainton meetBlushair. Prussian general, Blushair. Vellainton 'e com hier. I see 'im.Ven 'e see ze maundt, 'e vos vair angri. 'E say, "Eet is no zebattle-fiel' no more--I com back nevare!" Zat aidge is vere de ScotsGreys vas. Ven they dell Napoleon 'oo zey are, 'e say, "Finemens--splendid mens, I feenish dem in von hour!" Soult 'e say, "Ah,Sire, you do not know dose dairible grey 'orses!" Napoleon 'e _not_ knowdem. Soult 'e meet dem at de Peninsulaire--'_e_ know dem. In dat Shirsh,dventy, dirty dablets to Inglis officers. Napoleon 'e coaled op 'islaift vink, zey deploy in line, vair you see my shdeek--ha, zeshentelman is gone avay vonce more!
MISS T. (_to_ CULCHARD, _who has found himself unable to keep away_).You don't seem to find that old gentleman vurry good company?
CULCH. The fact is that I much prefer to receive my impressions of ascene like this in solitude.
MISS T. _I_ should have thought you'd be too polite to tell me so; but Iwas moving on, anyway.
[_She goes on._ _Before_ CULCHARD _can follow and explain, he findshimself accosted by_ MR. TROTTER.
MR. T. I don't know as I'm as much struck by this Waterloo field as Iexpected, Sir. As an Amurrcan, I find it doesn't come up to some of ourbattlefields in the War. We don't blow about those battlefields, Sir,but for style and general picturesqueness, I ain't seen nothing _this_side to equal them. You ever been over? You want to come over and seeour country--that's what _you_ want to do. You mustn't mind me a-runningon, but when I meet some one as I can converse with in my ownlanguage--well, I just about talk myself dry.
[_He talks himself dry, until rejoined by the_ GUIDE _with_ PODBURY_and_ MISS TROTTER.
GUIDE (_to_ PODBURY). Leesten, I dell you. My vader--eighteen, no in zeAirmi, laboreur man--he see Napoleon standt in a saircle; officersroundt 'im. Boots, op to hier; green cott; vite vaiscott; vite laigs----
PODB. Your father's legs?
GUIDE (_indignantly_). No, Sare; my vader see Napoleon's laigs; leedle'at, qvite plain; no faither--nossing.
PODB. But you just said you _had_ a faither!
GUIDE. I say, Napoleon 'ad no faither--vat you call it?--_plume_--in 'is'at, at ze bataille.
PODB. Are you sure? I thought the history books said he "stuck a featherin his hat, and called it Macaroni."
MISS T. I presume you're thinking of our National Amurrcan character,Yankee Doodle?
GUIDE. My vader, 'e no see Napoleon viz a Yankedoodle in 'is 'at; 'evear nossing.
PODB. Nothing? What became of the green coat and white waistcoat, then,eh?
GUIDE. Ah, you unnerstan' nossing at all! Leesten, I dell you voncemore. My vader----
PODB. No, look here, my friend; you go and tell _that_ gentleman allabout it (_indicating_ CULCHARD); he's very interested in hearing whatNapoleon wore or didn't wear.
[_The_ GUIDE _takes possession of_ CULCHARD _once more, who submits,under the impression that_ MISS TROTTER _is a fellow-sufferer_.
GUIDE (_concluding a vivid account of the fight at Houguymont_). Bot venzey com qvite nearer, zey vind ze rade line no ze Inglissoldiers--nossing bot a breek vall, viz ze moskets--"Prown Pesses," youcoal dem--shdeekin out of ze 'oles! Ze 'oles schdill dere. Dat vasHouguymont, in the orshairde. Now you com viz me and see ze lion. Zedail, two piece; ze bodi, von piece; ze ball, von piece. I sank you,Sare. 'Ope you com again soon.
[CULCHARD _discovers that the_ TROTTERS _and_ PODBURY _have gone downsome time ago. At the foot of the steps he finds his friend waiting forhim, alone._
CULCH. (_with stiff politeness_). Sorry you considered it necessary tostay behind on my account. I see your American friends have alreadystarted for the station.
PODB. (_gloomily_). There were only two seats on that coach, and theywouldn't wait for the next. I don't know why, unless it was that theysaw _you_ coming down the steps. She can't stand you at any price.
"LEESTEN, I DELL YOU VONCE MORE."]
CULCH. (_with some heat_). Just as likely she had had enough of yourbuffoonery!
PODB. (_with provoking good humour_). Come, old chap, don't get yourshirt out with _me_. Not my fault if she's found out you think yourselftoo big a swell for her, is it?
CULCH. (_hotly_). When did I say so--or think so? It's what you've toldher about me, and I must say I call it----
PODB. Don't talk bosh! Who said s
he was forward and bad form and all therest of it in the courtyard that first evening? She was close by, andheard every word of it, I shouldn't wonder.
CULCH. (_colouring_). It's not of vital importance if she did.(_Whistling._) Few-fee-fee-foo-foodle-di-fee-di-fa-foo.
PODB. Not a bit--to her. Better step out if we mean to catch that train.(_Humming._) La-di-loodle-lumpty-leedle-um-ti-loo!
[_They step out_, PODBURY _humming pleasantly and_ CULCHARD _whistling viciously, without further conversation, until they arrive at Braine l'Alleud Station--and discover that they have just missed their train_.
