The Princess Passes Volume 56 by Alice Muriel Williamson, Charles Norris Williamson (great book club books .txt) 📕

As I Was Wondering When They Would Wake, That I Might Consult Them On

The Details Of My Journey, I Glanced Up And Saw Molly, As Fresh As If

She Had Been Born With The Morning, Standing On A Balcony Just Over My

Head. In Her Hand Was A Letter, And As She Waved A Greeting, Something

Came Fluttering Uncertainly Down. I Managed To Catch This Something

Before It Touched Earth, And Had Inadvertently Seen That It Was An

Unmounted Photograph, Probably Taken By An Amateur Correspondent, When

Molly Leaned Over The Railing, With An Excited Cry. "Oh, Don't Look.

Please, _Please_ Don't Look At That Photograph!" She Exclaimed.

"Of Course I Won't," I Answered, Slightly Hurt. "What Do You Take Me

For?"

"I Know You Wouldn't Mean To," She Answered. "But You Might Glance

Involuntarily. You _Didn't_ See It, Did You?"

Suddenly I Was Tempted To Tease Her. "Would It Be So Very Dreadful If

I Did?"

"Yes, Dreadful," She Echoed Solemnly. "Don't Joke. Do Please Tell Me,

One Way Or The Other, If You Saw What Was In The Picture?"

"You May Set Your Mind At Ease. If It Were To Save My Life, I Couldn't

Tell Whether The Photograph Was Of Man, Woman, Boy, Girl, Or Beast;

And Now I'm Holding It Face Downward."

Molly Broke Into A Laugh. "Good!" She Exclaimed. "I'm Coming To Claim

My Property, And To Look At Your New Acquisitions. I've Been

Criticising Them From The Window, And I Congratulate You."

A Moment Later She Was Beside Me, Had Taken Her Mysterious Photograph,

And Hidden It Between The Pages Of A Letter, Covered With Writing In A

Pretty And Singularly Individual Hand. She Explained That A Whole

Budget Of "Mail" Had Been Forwarded To Martigny, In Consequence Of A

Telegram Sent To Lucerne, And Then, As If Forgetting The Episode, She

Applied Herself To Winning The Hearts Of The Man Joseph And The Mule

Finois.

Presently We Were Joined By Winston, And I Broached The Subject Of The

Start. "The Idea Is," I Said, "To Begin As I Mean To Go On, With A

Walk Of From Twenty To Thirty Miles A Day, According To The Scenery

And My Inclination. Marcoz Thinks That We Could Pass The Night

Comfortably Enough At A Place Called Bourg St. Pierre, Even If We

Didn't Get Away From Here For An Hour Or So. Then Early To-Morrow We

Would Push On For The Hospice, And Reach Aosta In The Evening."

"It Would Be A Mistake To Leave Here In The Heat Of The Day, Don't You

Think So?" Said Jack. "Much Better If We All Stopped On, Did Some

Sightseeing, And Then Molly And I Bade You Good Speed About Half-Past

Seven To-Morrow Morning."

"But, Lightning Conductor, You Forget We Can't Stay. You Know--_The

Letters_," Said Molly, With One Of Those Deep, Meaning Glances Which

Her Lovely Eyes Had More Than Once Sent Jack, When There Was Some

Question As To Our Ultimate Parting. My Heart Invariably Responded To

This Glance With A Pang, As A Nerve Responds To Electricity. She

Wished To Go Away With Her Lightning Conductor, And Leave Me At The

Mercy Of A Mule. Well, I Would Accept My Lonely Lot Without

Complaining, But Not Without Silently Reflecting That Happy Lovers Are

Selfish Beings At Best.

The Forlorn Consciousness That I Was Of Superlative Importance To No

One Was Heavy Upon Me. I Wanted Somebody To Care A Great Deal What

Became Of Me, And Evidently Nobody Did. I Was Horribly Homesick At

Breakfast, And The Winstons' Gaiety In The Face Of Our Parting Seemed

The Last Straw In My Burden. Perhaps Molly Saw This Straw In My Eyes,

For She Looked At Me Half Wistfully For A Moment, And Then Said, "If

We Weren't Sure This Walking Trip Of Yours Will Do You More Good Than

Anything Else, We Wouldn't Let You Leave Us, For We Have Loved Having

You. We'll Write To You At Aosta, Where You Will Be Staying For A

Couple Of Days, And Give You Our Itinerary, With Lots Of Addresses. By

That Time, You Too Will Have Made Up Your Mind About Your Route. You

Will Have Decided Whether To Branch Off Among The Bye-Ways, Or Go

Straight On South, Although You Mustn't Go _Too_ Quickly, And Get

There Too Early----"

"I Don't Believe I Shall Have Made Up My Mind To Anything In Aosta,"

Said I Gloomily. "I Feel That I Shall Still Be Unequal To That, Or Any

Other Mental Effort, And What Is To Become Of Me, Heaven, Joseph, And

Finois Alone Know."

"Now, Isn't It Funny, I Feel Exactly The Opposite? Something Seems To

Tell Me That At Aosta, If Not Before, You Will, So To Speak, 'Read

Your Title Clear,'" Said Molly, With Aggravating Cheerfulness. "As

Soon As You've Settled What Way To Take, You Must Write Or Wire; And

Who Knows But By-And-Bye We Shall Cross Each Other's Path Again, On

The Road To The Riviera?"

I Revived A Little. "I Don't Think You Told Me That You Were Going To

Run Down There. Jack Was Talking About Keeping Mostly To Switzerland,

I Thought."

"But Switzerland Will Turn A Cold Shoulder Upon Us, As The Autumn

Comes To Spoil Its Disposition, And We Were Saying Only This Morning

That It Would Be Fine To Make A Rush To The Riviera, For A Wind Up To

Our Trip."

"You See, Molly Had A Letter----" Jack Had Begun To Speak With An

Absent-Minded Air, But Suddenly Recovered Himself. "We Don't Care To

Get Back To England Till November," He Hastily Went On. "I Want Molly

To Have Some Hunting And A Jolly Round Of Country Houses Just To See

What We Can Do To Make An English Winter Tolerable. We've Got Four Or

Five Ripping Invitations, And In January Mistress Molly Herself Will

Have To Play Hostess To A Big House Party, At Brighthelmston Park,

Which The Mater And Governor Have Lent Us Till Next Season."

If He Had Wanted To Take My Mind Off An Inadvertence, He Could

Scarcely Have Manoeuvred Better, But Why The Inadvertence (If It Had

Been One) Could Concern Me, It Was Difficult To Imagine.

There Was A Friendly Dispute As To Whether Molly And Jack Should See

Me Off, Or Whether I Should Wish Them Good-Bye Before Starting On My

Journey; But In The End It Was Settled That I Should Be The One To

Leave First. Perhaps They Believed That, If Left To Myself, I Should

Never Start At All; Perhaps They Wished To Add Photographs Of The

Mule-Party To Their Kodak Collection, Already Large; Or Perhaps They

Thought Only How To Make The Parting Pleasantest For Me, Since I Had

No One, And They Had Each Other.

In Any Case, At Ten O'clock All That Was Left Of My Store Was Placed

Upon The Back Of Finois, Who Had The Air Of Ignoring Its Existence,

And Mine As Well. Had He Been A Horse, He Would At Least Have Deigned

To Exchange Glances With Me, Friendly Or Otherwise; But Being What He

Was, He Looked Everywhere Except At Me, As If He Had Been Some Haughty

Aristocrat Conscientiously Snubbing An Offensive Upstart. Joseph

Appeared To Be The One Human Being Of More Importance For Finois Than

The Moving Bough Of An Inedible Tree, Bush, Or Shrub, And Even Molly

Could Win Him To No Change Of Facial Expression, Though He Ate Her

Offered Sugar.

There Was A Pang When I Turned My Back Irrevocably Upon My Friends,

Having Waved My Hand Or My Panama So Often That To Do So Again Would

He Ridiculous. We Were Off, Joseph, Finois, And I; There Was No

Getting Round It; And As We Ambled Away Along The Hot White Road, We

Seemed But Small Things In The Scheme Of A Busy And Indifferent

World--Mere Cards, Shuffled By The Hands Of An Expert, For A Game In

Which Our Destination Was Unknown.

"Be Kind And Courteous To This Gentleman; Hop In His Walk

    And Gambol In His Eyes."

                                              --Shakespeare.

In Beginning Our Tramp, I Trudged Step For Step With Joseph, Who Had

Finois' Bridle Over His Arm, And Answered My Questions Regarding The

Various Features Of The Landscape. Thus I Was Not Long In Discovering

That He Had A Knowledge Of The English Language Of Which He Was

Innocently Proud. I Made Some Enquiry Concerning A Fern Which Grew

Above The Roadside, When We Had Passed Through Martigny Bourg, And

Joseph Answered That One Did Not See It Often In This Country. "It Is

A Seldom Plant," Said He. "It Live In High Up Places, Where It Was

_Difficile_ To Catch, For One Shall Have To Walk Over Rocks, Which Do

Not--What You Say? They Go Down Immediately, Not By-And-Bye."

I Liked This Description Of A Precipice, And Later, When We Had

Engaged In A Desultory Discussion On Politics, I Was Delighted When

Joseph Spoke Solemnly Of The "Great Mights." He Had Formed Opinions Of

Lord Beaconsfield And Gladstone, But Had Not Yet Had Time To Do So Of

Mr. Chamberlain, For, Said He, "These Things Take A Long Time To Think

About." Fifteen Or Twenty Years From Now, He Will Probably Be Ready

With An Opinion On Men And Matters Of The Present. He Asked Gravely If