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

Shoulder, I Saw A Bare But Neat Interior; A "Coffin" Bed, A

White-Washed Wall, And An Uncarpeted Floor, Mademoiselle Innocentina

Palumbo Sitting Upon It, Tailor-Fashion, Engaged In Excavating A

Large, Dark Object From A _Rücksack_. In Front Of Her Stood The Brat,

Deeply Interested In The Operation, His Curly Head Bent, His Childish

Little Hands On His Hips.

He Was Talking And Laughing Gaily; But At The Sound Of Footsteps In

The Passage He Glanced Up, And, Seeing Me, Stared In Haughty

Surprise, Which Tipped The Scales Towards Anger.

"Here Is A Monsieur Who Is Belated On The Pass, And Begs" (This Was

Hardly The Way In Which I Would Have Put It) "That He May Be Allowed

To Share Your Room," Explained Our Landlady.

"_Share My Room!_" Repeated The Brat, So Dumfounded At The Simple

Statement That He Spoke In English. Now I Knew That He Was A

Countryman, Not Of Mine, But Of Molly's, And I Wished That She Were

Here To Deal With Him. "I Have Never Heard Anything So--So

Ridiculous."

"Really," Said I, Assuming An Air I Had Found Successful With Freshers

In Good Old Days Of Under-Grad-Dom (Molly Called It My "Belted Hearl"

Manner), "Really, I Fail To See Anything Ridiculous In The Proposal.

This Is An Inn, Which Professes To Accommodate Travellers. I Have A

Right To Insist Upon A Bed."

To My Intense Irritation Innocentina Giggled. The Brat Did Not Laugh,

But He Grew Rosy, Like A Girl. Even His Little Ears Turned Pink, Under

His Absurd Mop Of Chestnut Curls. "You Have No Right To Insist Upon

Mine," Retorted He, In The Honey-Sweet Contralto Which Tried In Vain

To Make Of A Pert Imp, An Angel.

"You Cannot Sleep In Two," Said I.

"That Is My Affair, Since I Have Agreed To Pay For Them."

"I Contend That You Cannot Pay For Both, Since One Is Legally Mine, By

The Laws Protecting Travellers," I Argued Truculently, Hoping To

Frighten The Rude Child, Though I Should Have Been Sore Put To It To

Prove My Point.

"I Have Always Heard That Possession Is Nine Points Of The Law," Said

He, Impudent And Apparently Unintimidated. "This Is My Room, Every

Hole And Corner Of It, And If You Try To Intrude, I Shall Simply Sit

Up And Yell All Night, And Throw Things, So That You Will Not Get An

Instant's Sleep. I Swear It."

Then I Lost My Temper. "You Ought To Be Ashamed Of Yourself," I

Exclaimed. "I Wonder Where You Were Brought Up?"

"Where Big Boys Never Bully Little Ones."

"Of All The Selfish, Impertinent Brats!" I Could Not Help Muttering.

"If I'm A Brat, You're A Brute, Sir. You Have Only To Glance At The

Dictionary To See Which Is Worse."

He Looked So Impish, Defying Me, Like A Miniature Ajax, That With All

The Will In The World To Box His Ears, I Burst Out Laughing.

Checking My Mirth As Soon As I Could, However, I Covered Its

Inappropriateness With A Steely Frown. "I Do Not Need To Glance At The

Dictionary To See That You Would Be A Detestable Room-Mate," Said I,

"And On Second Thoughts I Prefer To Sleep Quietly In The Stable Rather

Than Press My Claim Here." With This, I Turned On My Heel, Not Giving

The Enemy Time For Another Volley, And Stalked Downstairs, Followed, I

Regret To Say, By Innocentina's Ribald Laughter.

Almost Immediately I Was Rejoined By The Handsome Landlady, Who,

Profuse In Her Regrets, Though She Had Understood No Word Of What Had

Passed, Attempted To Console Me With The Promise Of A Bed In The

_Salle-À-Manger_. Meanwhile, If I Desired To Wash, Her Brother Would

Superintend My Ablutions.

Over Those Rites (Which Were Duly Performed At A Pump, While The

Little Wretch Upstairs Wallowed In The Luxury Of A Basin Almost As

Large As My Hat), I Draw A Veil. By The Time That They Were Finished,

And I Was Shining With Yellow Kitchen Soap, Having Been Unable To Make

Use Of My Own In The Circumstances, Supper Was Ready. I Walked Sulkily

Into The Room, Which Later Would Be Transformed Into My Bedchamber,

And To My Annoyance Saw The Brat Already Seated At The Table. I Had

Fancied That His Conscience Would Counsel Supping Privately In The

Room He Had Usurped, But This Imp Seemed To Have Been Born Without A

Sense Of Shame. Thanks To Him, I Had Not Even Been Able To Give Myself

A Clean Collar, As It Had Not Been Possible To Open The Mule-Pack And

Improvise A Dressing-Room In The Neighbourhood Of The Pump. But

He--He, The Usurper, He, The Guilty One--Had Changed From His

Low-Necked Shirt And Blue Serge Jacket And Knickers Into A Kind Of

Evening Costume, Original, I Should Say, To Himself, Or Copied From

Some Stage Child, Or Christmas Annual.

He Did Not Speak To Me, Nor I To Him, Though, As I Sat Down In The

Chair Placed For Me At The Opposite End Of The Table, I Caught A

Sapphire Gleam From The Brilliant Eyes, Which Burned So Vividly In The

Little Brown Face.

There Came An Omelette. It Was Passed To Me. Maliciously, I Selected

The Best Bit From The Middle. The Boy Took What Was Left. Veal

Followed, In The Form Of Cutlets, Two In Number. A Glance Showed Me

That One Was Mostly Composed Of Bone And Gristle. I Helped Myself To

The Other. Revenge Was Mine At Last, Though To Enjoy It Fully I Must

Have A Peep At The Enemy, To Make Sure That He Felt And Understood His

Righteous Punishment.

But Life Is Crowded With Disappointments. The Foe Was Looking

Incredibly Small, And Young, And Meek, A Puny Thing For A Man To

Wreak His Vengeance On. With Long Lashes Cast Down, Making A Deep

Shadow On His Thin Cheeks, He Sat Wrestling With His Portion, From

Which The Cleverest Manipulation Of Knife And Fork Was Powerless To

Extract An Inch Of Nourishment. As He Gave Up The Struggle At Last,

With Unmoved Countenance, And Not Even A Sigh Of Complaint, My Heart

Failed Me. I Felt That I Had Snatched Bread From The Mouth Of Starving

Infanthood. Had Not Joseph Learned From Innocentina That The Boy Had

Lately Recovered From A Severe Illness? Unspeakable Brat That He Was,

And Small Favour That He Deserved At My Hands, I Resolved That He

Should Have The Best Of The Next Dish When It Came Round.

This Good Intention, However, Went To Supply Another Stone In That

Place Which Seems Ever In Need Of Repaving. Cheese Succeeded The Veal,

A Well-Meaning But Somewhat Overpowering Cheese, And Neither The Brat

Nor I Encouraged It. It Was Borne Away, Intact, And After A Short

Delay Appeared A Dish Of Plums, With Another Of Small And Attractive

Cakes, Evidently Imported From A Town.

I Saw The Boy's Eye Brighten As It Fell Upon The Cakes. He Glanced

From Them To Me, As I Was Offered My Choice, And Said Hastily: "There

Is One Cake There Which I Want Very Much. I Suppose If I Tell You

Which It Is, You Will Eat It."

"There Is Also Only One Which I Care For," Said I. "I Wonder If It's

The Same?"

"Probably," Said The Boy. "If You Take It, There Isn't Another Which I

Would Be Found Dead With In My Mouth, On A Desert Island. And I

Haven't Had Much Dinner."

"_I_ Had To Wash Under The Pump," Said I. "Still, Greatness Lies In

Magnanimity. You Shall Choose Your Cake First; But Remember, You

Cannot Have It, And Eat It, Too; So Make Up Your Mind Quickly Which Is

Better."

"I Always Thought That A Stupid Saying," Remarked The Brat, As He

Helped Himself To A Ginger-Nut With Pink Icing. "I Have My Cake, And

When I Have Eaten It, I Take Another."

"Your Experience In Life Has Been Fortunate," I Replied, Contenting

Myself With The Second-Best Cake. "But It Has Not Been Long. When You

Are A Man----"

"A Man! I Would Rather Die--Young Than Grow Up To Be One."

"Indeed?" I Exclaimed, Surprised At This Outburst.

"I Hate Men."

"Ah, Perhaps Then, Your Experience Has Not Been As Fortunate In Men As

In Cakes."

"No, It Hasn't. It Has Been Just The Opposite."

"One Would Say, 'Thereby Hangs A Tale.'"

"There Does. But It Is Not For Strangers."

"I'm Not A Lover Of After-Dinner Stories. Here Comes The Coffee.

Luckily, There's Plenty For Us Both. Will You Have A Cigarette?"

"No, Thanks."

"A Cigar, Then?"

"I Don't Smoke."

"Ah, Some Boys' Heads _Won't_ Stand It. I'm Ashamed To Say That I

Smoked At Fourteen. But Perhaps You're Not Yet----"

"I Will Change My Mind And Have A Cigarette, Since You Are So

Obliging."

"Sure You Won't Regret It?"

"Quite Sure, Thank You."

"They're Rather Strong."

"I'm Not Afraid."

He Took A Cigarette From My Case, And Smoked It Daintily. Whether It

Were My Imagination, Or Whether A Slight Pallor Did Really Become

Visible Under The Sun-Tan On The Velvet-Smooth Face, I Am Not Certain:

But At All Events He Rose When Nothing Was Left Between His Fingers

Save An Ash Clinging To A Bit Of Gold Paper, And Excused Himself With

Belated Politeness.

Not Long After, My Bed Was Made Up On The Floor, And I Slept As I

Fancy Few Kings Sleep.

Strange; Not Then, Or Ever, Did I Dream Of Helen.

       *       *       *       *       *

The Voice Of Finois Or Some Near Relative Of His Roused Me At Dawn. I

Remembered Where I Was, Whither Bound, And Sleep Instantly Seemed

Irrelevant. I Scrambled Up From My Lonely Couch, Went To The Open

Window, Which Was A Square Of Grey-Green Light, And Looked Out At The

Mountain Walls Of The Valley Basin.

The Day Was Not Awake Yet, But Only Half Conscious That It Must Awake.

There Was