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

However, He Was Persistent, And Was In Real Danger, Since To Avoid An

Approaching Cart, Jack Was Forced To Steer Perilously Near The Yapping

Beast.

I Snatched The Weapon, Pulled The Trigger, And--A Mild, Mellifluous

Trickle Which Would Have Disgraced A Toilet Vaporiser Sprayed Forth.

Jack, Molly, And The Peasants In The Approaching Cart Burst Into

Shouts Of Laughter. The Spitz, Undismayed By The Gentle Shower, Which

Had Spattered His Nose With A Drop Or Two, Leaped At The Weapon, And,

Irritated, I Flung It At His Head. It Fell Innocuously In The Road And

Our Last Sight Of The Spitz Was When, Rejoined By His Lizard Friend,

He Industriously Gnawed At The Pistol, Mistaking It For A Bone, While

The Dachs Gratefully Lapped Up The Water I Had Provided. My Surprise

Was A Popular Success, But Not The Kind Of Success Which I Had

Planned. Jack Said That He Could Have "Told Me So" If I Had Asked Him,

And I Vowed In Future To Let Dogs Delight To Bark And Bite Without

Interference From Me.

The One Inept Remark Which Shelley Seems Ever To Have Made Was That

"There Is Nothing To See In France." My Opinion, As We Spun Along The

Road Which Would Lead Us To Lucerne And My Waiting Mule, Was That

There Was Almost Too Much To See, Too Much Charm, Too Much Beauty For

The Peace Of Mind Of An Imaginative Traveller; There Were So Many

Valleys Which One Longed To Explore, In Which One Felt One Could Be

Content Without Going Farther, So Many Blue Glimpses Of Mysterious

Mountains, Veiled By The Haze Of Dreamland, That One Suffered A

Constant Succession Of Acute Pangs In Thinking That One Would

Probably Never See Them Again, That One Would Need At Least Nine Long

Lives If One Were To Spend, Say, Even A Month In Each Place.

Molly Advised Me Not To Be A Spendthrift Of My Emotions, At This Stage

Of The Journey, Lest I Should Be A Worn-Out Wreck Before The Grandest

Part Came, But The Idea Of Husbanding Enthusiasm Did Not Commend

Itself To Me. Why Not Enjoy This Moment, Instead Of Waiting Until The

Moment After Next? It Was Too Much Like Saving Up One's Good Clothes

For "Best," A Lower-Middle-Class Habit Which I Have Detested Since The

Days When I Howled For My Smartest Lord Fauntleroy Frills In The

Morning.

There Were Sweet Villages Where They Made Cheese, And Where I Could

Have Been Happy Making It With Helen Blantock; There Were Châteaux

With Turret Rooms Where My Book Shelves Would Have Fitted Excellently;

But Always We Fled On, On, Until At Last, After Two Bewildering,

Cinematographic Days, We Drove Into The Streets Of That Dignified And

Delightful City, Bern.

It Had Not Been Necessary For Us To Pass Through Bern; It Was, In

Fact, A Few Yards More Or Less Out Of The Most Direct Path. We Chose

This Route Simply And Solely With The View Of Paying A Visit To The

Bears. Molly Had Never Met Them; I Had Neglected Them Since Childhood;

Jack Looked Forward To The Pleasure Of Introducing Them To His Wife.

It Was On Our Way To Call Upon The Bears, That Destiny Seduced Me To

Turn My Head At A Certain Moment, And Look Into A Shop Window.

Suddenly The Flame Of My Desire For The Walking Solo With A Mule

Accompaniment (Somewhat Diminished Lately, I Confess) Leaped Up Anew.

There Were Things In That Window Which Made A Man Long To Be A

Hermit.

"Mrs. Winston." I Cried (Molly Was Driving), "For Goodness' Sake Stop."

In An Instant The Car Slowed Down. "What Is The Matter?" She Implored.

"Are You Ill? Have We Run Over Anything?"

"No, But Look There," I Said Eagerly. "What An Outfit For A Camping

Tour! My Mouth Waters Only At Sight Of It."

"Greedy Fellow," Commented Jack From The Tonneau. "Drive On, Molly.

Get Him Past The Shop. He Doesn't Really Want Any Of Those Things, And

Wouldn't Use Them If He Had Them. The Sooner He Forgets The Better."

"Never Shall I Forget That Instantaneous Breakfast For An Alpiniste,"

I Fiercely Protested, "And I Will Have It At Any Cost. I Know There's

No Other Shop On The Continent Like This, And I Shall Buy An Outfit

For Myself And Mule, Here, If I Have To Come Back From Lucerne By

Train For It."

"Hang Your Mule!" Exclaimed Jack. "I Was Hoping You'd Forgotten All

About Him By This Time, And Had Made Up Your Mind To Go On With Us

Indefinitely."

I Saw Reproach Blaze Through The Talc Triangle In Molly's Mushroom.

(Yet I Thought She Liked Me, And Had Not, Thus Far, Found "Three A

Crowd.")

"Lord Lane Isn't A _Chameleon_, Jack," Said She, "That He Should

Change His Mind Every Few Minutes. _Of Course_ He's Going To Have His

Mule Trip. And As For This Shop, All Those Dear Little Pots And

Kettles And Things In The Window Are Too Cute For Words. He _Shall_

Have Them."

Was I To Be A Bone Of Contention Between Husband And Wife?

"Please, Both Of You Come In And Help Me Choose," I Meekly Pleaded, In

Haste To Restore The Peace Which I Had Broken.

We Got Out, And A Small Crowd Collected Round The Car, Gotteland

Standing By With His Chin Raised And The Exact Expression Of The Frog

Footman In "Alice In Wonderland." One Would Have Said That He Saw,

Afar Off, The Graves Of His Ancestors, On The Summit Of Some Lonely

Mountain.

It Was What Molly Would Have Called A "Lovely" Shop, And It Did

Business Under The Strange Device: "Magasin Suisse D'equipment

Sportif." The Name Alone Was Worth The Money One Would Spend.

Everything To Cover The Outer, And Nourish The Inner Sportsman, Was To

Be Had. I Felt That I Could Scarcely Be Lonely Or Sad If I Possessed A

Stock Of These Friendly Articles. Jack's Ribald Advice To Buy A

Pelerine, And A Green-Loden Gemsjäger Hat With A Feather, Stirred Me

Neither To Smiles Nor Anger, For Molly And I Were Already Deep In

Exploration.

The First Thing I Bought Was A Mule-Pack. Being A Merciful Man, I

Chose One Of Medium Size, For Already I Could Fancy Myself Becoming

Fond Of The Animal Which Was To Be My Companion In Many Wild And

Solitary Places, And I Did Not Wish To Overburden Him. I Then, Aided

And Abetted By Molly, Began To Choose The Pack's Contents.

An "_Appareil De Cuisson Alpin, Idéal_" Went Without Saying, Like The

Air One Breathes. It Composed Itself, According To The Voluble

Attendant Who Displayed It, Of Six Parts, Each Part Far Better Than

The Others. There Was A _Gamelle_, With A "_Crochet Pour L'enlever_"

And A _Couvercle_, Which, Not To Show Itself Proud, Would Lend Its

Services Also As An _Assiette_ Or A _Poêle À Frire_. There Was The

Burner Of Alcohol; There Was "_Le Couvercle De Celui-Ci_," Which

Served Equally To Measure The Spirit, And There Was A Charming

_Appareil Brise Vent_ Which Had The Air Of Defying Tornadoes. When I

Had Secured This Treasure, Molly Drew My Attention To A Series Of

Aluminium Boxes Made To Fit Eggs And Sandwiches. I Bought These Also,

And, Pleased With The Clean White Metal, Invested In Plates, Goblets,

And Water Bottles Of The Same. Next Came A _Couvert Pliant_,

Containing Knife, Fork, And Spoon; And, Lest I Should Be Guilty Of

Selfishness, I Ordered A Duplicate For The Man Who Would Look After

The Mule. Best Of All, However, Were The Tinned Soups, Meats,

Vegetables, Puddings, And Cocoas, Which You Simply Set On The Fire In

Their Bright Little Cans, And Heated Till They Sent Forth A Steamy

Fragrance. Then You Ate Or Drank Them, And Were Happy As A King.

Molly And I Selected A Number Of These, And Completed The List With A

Sleeping Bag And A _Tente De Touriste_, Which She Persuaded Me Would

Be Indispensable When Lost In The Mountains, As I Was Sure To Be,

Often.

When My Goods And Chattels Came To Be Collected, We Were Shocked To

Find That The Mule-Pack Would Not Contain Them. The Question Remained,

Then, Whether I Should Sacrifice These New Possessions, Already Dear,

Or Whether I Should Doom My Mule To Carry A Greater Burden. The

Attendant Intimated That Swiss Mules Preferred Heavy Loads, And Had

They The Vocal Gifts Of Balaam's Ass, Would Demand Them. Swayed By My

Desires And His Arguments, I Changed My Pack For A Larger One. After

More Than An Hour In The Shop, We Tore Ourselves Away, Leaving Word

That The Things Should Be Sent By Post To Lucerne. We Then Repaired To

The Bear Pit, By Way Of The Clock, And Having Supplied Ourselves With

Plenty Of Carrots, Had No Cause To Complain Of Our Reception.

    "Yes, We Await It, But It Still Delays, And Then We Suffer."

                                            --Matthew Arnold.

    "When I Arose And Saw The Dawn, I Sighed For Thee . . .

                    Come, Long-Sought!"

                                  --Percy Bysshe Shelley.

Jack No Longer Attempted To Dissuade Me From My Walking Tour. Whether

Molly Had Talked To Him, Or Whether He Had, Unprompted, Seen The Error

Of His Ways, I Cannot Tell, But The Fact Remains That, During The Rest

Of Our Run To Lucerne, He Showed A Lively Interest In The Forthcoming

Trip.

"I Suppose," Said He, When We Had Caught Our First Sight Of Pilatus

(Seen, As One Might Say, On His Back Premises), "I Suppose That

Anywhere In Switzerland, There Ought To