A Voyage Of Consolation by Sara Jeannette Duncan (best fiction books to read TXT) 📕

_à L'Italienne_ Or Mixed Up With Vegetables.

Beans--Well,  Just Beans,  And If You Don'T Like 'Em You Can Leave 'Em,

But That Fourth Course Is Never Anything But Beans. After That You Get

A Chicken Cut Up With Lettuce,  Because If It Was Put On The Table Whole

Some Disappointed Investigator Might Find Out There Was Nothing Inside

And File A Complaint. Anything To Support That Unstuffed Chicken? Nope.

Finishing Up With A Compote Of Canned Fruit,  Mostly California Pears

That Want More Cooking,  And After That Cheese,  If You Like Cheese,  And

Coffee Charged Extra. Thanks To Bramley,  I Can'T Say I Didn'T Know What

To Expect,  But That Doesn'T Increase The Variety Any. Now In america--I

Understand You Have Been To America,  Sir?"

 

"I Have Travelled In The States To Some Extent," Responded Mr.

Mafferton.

 

"Seen Brooklyn Bridge And The Hudson,  I Presume. Had A Look At Niagara

Falls And A Run Out To Chicago,  Maybe. That Was Before I Had The

Pleasure Of Meeting You. Get As Far As The Yosemite? No? Well,  You Were

There Long Enough Anyhow To Realise That Our Hotels Are Run On The Free

Will System."

 

"I Remember," Said Mr. Mafferton. "All The Luxuries Of The Coming

Season,  Printed On A Card Usually About A Foot Long. A Great Variety,

And Very Difficult To Understand. When I Had Finished Trying To

Translate The Morning Paper,  I Used To Attack The Card. I Found That It

Threw Quite A Light Upon Early American Civilisation From The Aboriginal

Side. 'Hominy,' 'Grits,' 'Buckwheats,' 'Cantelopes,' Are Some Of The

Dishes I Remember. 'Succotash,' Too,  And 'Creamed Squash,' But I Think

They Occurred At Dinner Generally. I Used To Summon The Waiter,  And

When He Came To Take My Orders I Would Ask Him To Derive Those Dishes. I

Had Great Difficulty After A Time In Summoning A Waiter. But The Plan

Gave Me Many Interesting Half Hours. In The End I Usually Ordered A

Chop."

 

"I Don'T Want To Run Down Your Politics," Poppa Said,  "But That'S What I

Call Being Too Conservative. Augusta,  If You Have Had Enough Of The Bay

Of Naples And The Moon,  I Might Remind You Of The Buried City Of

Pompeii,  Which Is On For To-Morrow. It'S A Good Long Way Out,  And You'Ll

Want All Your Powers Of Endurance. I'M Going Down To Have A Smoke,  And A

Look At The Humorous Publications Of Italy. There'S No Sort Of

Sociability About These Hotels,  But The Head _Portier_ Knows A Little

English."

 

"I Suppose I Had Better Retire," Momma Admitted,  "Though I Sometimes

Wish Mr. Wick Wasn'T So Careful Of My Nervous System. Delicious Scene,

Good-Night." And She Too Left Us.

 

We Were Sitting In a Narrow Balcony That Seemed To Jut Out Of A Horn Of

The City'S Lovely Crescent. Dicky And Isabel Occupied Chairs At A

Distance Nicely Calculated To Necessitate A Troublesome Raising Of The

Voice To Communicate With Them. Mrs. Portheris Was Still Confined To Her

Room With What Was Understood To Be The Constitutional Shock Of Her

Experiences In The Catacombs. Dicky,  In Joyful Privacy,  Assured Me That

Nobody Could Recover From A Combination Of Roman Tallow And French Kid

In Less Than A Week,  But I Told Him He Did Not Know The British

Constitution.

 

[Illustration: We Were Sitting In a Narrow Balcony.]

 

The Moon Sailed High Over Naples,  And Lighted The Lapping Curve Of Her

Perfect Bay In The Deepest,  Softest Blue,  And Showed Us Some Of The

Nearer Houses Of The City,  Sloping And Shouldering And Creeping Down,

That They Were Pink And Yellow And Parti-Coloured,  While The Rest Curved

And Glimmered Round The Water In all Tender Tones Of White Holding Up A

Thousand Lamps. And Behind,  Curving Too,  The Hills Stood Clear,  With The

Grey Phantom Of Vesuvius In Sharp Familiar Lines,  Sending Up Its Stream

Of Steady Red,  And Now And Then A Leaping Flame. It Was A Scene To Wake

The Latent Sentiment Of Even A British Bosom. I Thought I Would Stay A

Little Longer.

 

"So You Usually Ordered A Chop?" I Said By Way Of Resuming The

Conversation. "I Hope The Chops Were Tender."

 

(I Have A Vague Recollection That My Intonation Was.)

 

"There Are Worse Things In The States Than The Mutton," Replied Mr.

Mafferton,  Moving His Chair To Enable Him,  By Twisting His Neck Not Too

Ostentatiously,  To Glance Occasionally At Dicky And Isabel,  "But The

Steaks Were Distinctly Better Than The Chops--Distinctly."

 

"So All Connoisseurs Say," I Replied Respectfully. "Would You Like To

Change Seats With Me? I Don'T Mind Sitting With My Back To--Vesuvius."

 

Mr. Mafferton Blushed--Unless It Was The Glow From The Volcano.

 

"Not On My Account," He Said. "By Any Means."

 

"You Do Not Fear A Demonstration," I Suggested. "And Yet The Forces Of

Nature Are Very Uncertain. That Is Your English Nerve. It Deserves All

That Is Said Of It."

 

Mr. Mafferton Looked At Me Suspiciously.

 

"I Fancy You Must Be Joking," He Said.

 

He Sometimes Complained That The Great Bar To His Observation Of The

American Character Was The American Sense Of Humour. It Was One Of The

Things He Had Made A Note Of,  As Interfering With The Intelligent

Stranger'S Enjoyment Of The Country.

 

"I Suppose," I Replied Reproachfully,  "You Never Pause To Think How

Unkind A Suspicion Like That Is? When One _Wishes_ To Be Taken

Seriously."

 

"I Fear I Do Not," Mr. Mafferton Confessed. "Perhaps I Jump Rather

Hastily To Conclusions Sometimes. It'S A Family Trait. We Get It Through

The Warwick-Howards On My Mother'S Side."

 

"Then,  Of Course,  There Can'T Be Any Objection To It. But When One Knows

A Person'S Opinion Of Frivolity,  Always To Be Thought Frivolous By The

Person Is Hard To Bear. Awfully."

 

And If My Expression,  As I Gazed Past This Englishman At Vesuvius,  Was

One Of Sad Resignation,  There Was Nothing In The Situation To Exhilarate

Anybody.

 

The Impassive Countenance Of Mr. Mafferton Was Disturbed By A Ray Of

Concern. The Moonlight Enabled Me To See It Quite Clearly. "Pray,  Miss

Wick," He Said,  "Do Not Think That. Who Was It That Wrote----"

 

   "A Little Humour Now And Then

   Is Relished By The Wisest Men."

 

"I Don'T Know," I Said,  "But There'S Something About It That Makes Me

Think It Is English In Its Origin. Do You _Really_ Endorse It?"

 

"Certainly I Do. And Your Liveliness,  Miss Wick,  If I May Say So,  Is

Certainly One Of Your Accomplishments. It Is To Some Extent A Racial

Characteristic. You Share It With Mr. Dod."

 

I Glanced In The Direction Of The Other Two. "They Seem Desperately

Bored With Each Other," I Said. "They Are Not Saying Anything. Shall We

Join Them?"

 

"Dod Is Probably Sulking Because I Am Monopolising You. Mrs. Portheris,

You See,  Has Let Me Into The Secret"--Mr. Mafferton Looked _Very_

Arch--"By All Means,  If You Think He Ought To Be Humoured."

 

"No," I Said Firmly,  "Humouring Is Very Bad For Dicky. But I Don'T Think

He Should Be Allowed To Wreak His Ill-Temper On Isabel."

 

"I Have Noticed A Certain Lack Of Power To Take The Initiative About

Miss Portheris," Said Mr. Mafferton Coldly,  "Especially When Her Mother

Is Not With Her. She Seems Quite Unable To Extricate Herself From

Situations Like The Present."

 

"She Is So Young," I Said Apologetically,  "And Besides,  I Don'T Think

You Could Expect Her To Go Quite Away And Leave Us Here Together,  You

Know. She Would Naturally Have Foolish Ideas. She Doesn'T Know Anything

About Our Irrevocable Past."

 

"Why Should She Care?" Asked Mr. Mafferton Hypocritically.

 

"Oh," I Said. "I Don'T Know,  I'M Sure. Only Mrs. Portheris----"

 

"She Is Certainly A Charming Girl," Said Mr. Mafferton.

 

"And _So_ Well Brought Up," Said I.

 

"Ye-Es. Perhaps A Little Self-Contained."

 

"She Has No Need To Rely Upon Her Conversation." I Observed.

 

"I Don'T Know. The Fact Is----"

 

"What Is The Fact?" I Asked Softly. "After All That Has Passed I Think I

May Claim Your Confidence,  Mr. Mafferton." I Had Some Difficulty

Afterwards In Justifying This,  But It Seemed Entirely Appropriate At The

Time.

 

"The Fact Is,  That Up To Three Weeks Ago I Believed Miss Portheris To Be

The Incarnation Of So Many Unassuming Virtues And Personal Charms That I

Was Almost Ready To Make A Fresh Bid For Domestic Happiness In Her

Society. I Have For Some Time Wished To Marry----"

 

"I Know," I Said Sympathetically.

 

"But During The Last Three Weeks I Have Become A Little Uncertain."

 

"There Shouldn'T Be The _Slightest_ Uncertainty," I Observed.

 

"Marriage In england Is Such A Permanent Institution."

 

"I Have Known It To Last For Years Even In The United States," I

Sighed.

 

"And It Is A Serious Responsibility To Undertake To Reciprocate In Full

The Devotion Of An Attached Wife."

 

"I Fancy Isabel Is A Person Of Strong Affections," I Said; "One Notices

It With Her Mother. And Any One Who Could Dote On Mrs. Portheris Would

Certainly----"

 

"I Fear So," Said Mr. Mafferton.

 

"I Understand," I Continued,  "Why You Hesitate. And Really,  Feeling As

You Do,  I Wouldn'T Be Precipitate."

 

"I Won'T," He Said.

 

"Watch The State Of Your Own Heart," I Counselled,  "For Some Little

Time. You May Be Sure That Hers Will Not Alter;" And,  As We Said

Good-Night,  I Further Suggested That It Would Be A Kindness If Mr.

Mafferton Would Join My Lonely Parent In The Smoking-Room.

 

I Don'T Know What Happened On The Balcony After That.

Chapter 16

"Mamma," Said Isabel,  As We Gathered In The Hotel Vestibule For The

Start To Pompeii,  "Is Really Not Fit To Undertake It."

 

"You'Ll Excuse Me,  Aunt Caroline," Remarked The Senator,  "But Your

Complexion Isn'T By Any Means Right Yet. It'S A Warm Day And A Long

Drive. Just As Likely As Not You'Ll Be Down Sick After It."

 

"Stuff!" Said Mrs. Portheris. "I Thank My Stars _I_ Have Got No

Enfeebled American Constitution. I Am Perfectly Equal To It,  Thank You."

 

"It'S Most Unwise," Observed Mr. Mafferton.

 

"Darned--I Mean Extremely Risky," Sighed Dicky.

 

Mrs. Portheris Faced Upon Them. "And Pray What Do _You_ Know About It?"

She Demanded.

 

Then Momma Put In Her Oar,  Taking Most Unguardedly A Privilege Of

Relationship. "Of Course,  You Are The Best Judge Of How You Feel

Yourself,  Aunt Caroline,  But We Are Told There Are Some Steps To Ascend

When We Get There--And You Know How Fleshy You Are."

 

In The Instant Of Ominous Silence Which Occurred While Mrs. Portheris

Was Getting Her Chin Into The Angle Of Its Greatest Majesty,  Mr.

Mafferton Considerately Walked To The Door. When It Was Accomplished

She Looked At Momma Sideways And Down Her Nose,  Precisely In The Manner

Of The Late Mr. Du Maurier'S Ladies In _Punch_,  In The Same State Of

Mind. She Might Have Sat Or Stood To Him. It Was Another Ideal Realised.

 

"That Is The Latest,  The Very Latest Americanism Which I Have Observed

In Your Conversation,  Augusta. In Your Native Land It May Be Admissible,

But Please Understand That I Cannot Permit It To Be Applied To Me

Personally. To English Ears It Is Offensive,  Very Offensive. It Is Also

Quite Improper For You To Assume Any Familiarity With My Figure. As You

Say,  _I_ May Be Aware Of Its Corpulence,  But Nobody Else--Er--Can

Possibly Know Anything About It."

 

Momma Was Speechless,  And,  As Usual,  The Senator Came To The Rescue. He

Never Will Allow Momma To Be Trampled On,  And There Was Distinct

Retaliation In His Manner. "Look Here,  Aunt," He Said,  "There'S Nothing

Profane In Saying You'Re Fleshy When You _Are_,  You Know,  And You Don'T

Need To Remove So Much As Your Bonnet Strings For The General Public To

Be Aware Of It. And When You Come To America Don'T You Ever Insult

Anybody By Calling Her Corpulent,  Which Is A Perfectly Indecent

Expression. Now If You Won'T Go Back To Bed And Tranquillise Your

Mind--On A Plain Soda----"

 

"I Won'T," Said Mrs. Portheris.

 

"De Carriages Is Already," Said The Head Porter,  Glistening With An

Amiability Of Which We All Appreciated The Balm. And We Entered The

Carriages--Mrs. Portheris And The Downcast Isabel And Mr. Mafferton In

One,  And Momma,  Poppa,  Dicky,  And I In The Other. For No American Would

Have Been Safe In Mrs. Portheris'S Carriage For At Least Two Hours,  And

This Came Home Even To Mr. Dod.

 

"Never Again!" Exclaimed Momma As We Rattled Down