A Voyage Of Consolation by Sara Jeannette Duncan (librera reader .txt) 📖

The Different Varieties Of The Human Lot."

 

"I See What You Mean,  Poppa," I Said. "There'S Too Much Equality In

Paris,  Isn'T There--To Be Interesting," But The Senator Was Too Deeply

Engaged In Getting Out Momma'S Smelling Salts To Corroborate This

Interpretation.

 

It Is A Very Long Way To Genoa If You Don'T Stop At Aix-Les-Bains Or

Anywhere--Twenty-Four Hours--But Mont Cenis Occurs In The Night,  Which

Is Suitable In a Tunnel. There Came A Chill Through The Darkness That

Struck To One'S Very Marrow,  And We All Rose With One Accord And Groped

About For More Rugs. When Broad Daylight Came It Was Savoy,  And We

Realised What We Had Been Through. The Senator Was Inclined To Deplore

Missing The Realisation Of The Mont Cenis,  And It Was Only When Momma

Said It Was A Pity He Hadn'T Taken A Train That Would Have Brought Us

Through In The Daytime And Enabled Him To Examine It,  That He Ceased To

Express Regret. My Parents Are Often Vehicles Of Philosophy For Each

Other.

 

Besides,  In The Course Of The Morning The Senator Acknowledged That He

Got More Tunnels Than He Had Any Idea He Had Paid For. They Came With A

Precipitancy That Interfered Immensely With Any Connected Idea Of The

Scenery,  Though Momma,  In My Interest,  Did Her Best To Form One. "Note,

My Love," She Said,  As We Began To Penetrate The Frontier Country,  "That

Majestic Blue Summit On The Horizon To The Left"--Obliteration,  And

Another Tunnel! "_Don'T_ Miss That Jagged Line Of Snows Just Beyond The

Back Of Poppa'S Head,  Dear One. Quick! They Are Melting Away!"--But The

Next Tunnel Was Quicker. "Put Down That The Dazzling Purity Of These

Lovely Peaks Must Be Realised,  For It Cannot Be"--Darkness,  And The

Blight Of Another Tunnel. It Was Very Hard On Momma'S Imagination,  And

She Finally Accepted The Senator'S Warning That It Would Be Thrown

Completely Out Of Gear If She Went On,  And Abandoned The Attempt To Form

Complete Sentences Between Tunnels. It Was Much Simpler To Exclaim

"Splendid!" Or "Glorious!" Which One Could Generally Do Without Being

Interrupted.

 

We Were Not Prepared To Enjoy Anything When We Arrived At Genoa,  But

There Was Christopher Columbus In bronze,  Just Outside The Station In a

Little Place By Himself,  And We Felt Bound To Give Him Our Attention

Before We Went Any Further. He Was Patting America On The Head,  Both Of

Them Life Size,  And Carrying On That Historical Argument With His

Sailors In bas-Relief Below; And He Looked A Very Fine Character. As

Poppa Said,  He Was Just The Man You Would Pick Out To Discover America.

The Senator Also Remarked That You Could See From The Position Of The

Statue,  Right There In Full View Of The Travelling Public,  That The

Genoese Thought A Lot Of Columbus; Relied Upon Him,  In Fact,  As Their

Biggest Attraction. Momma Examined Him From The Carriage. She Said It

Was Most Gratifying To See Him There In His Own Home,  So To Speak; But

Her Enthusiasm Did Not Induce Her To Get Out. Momma'S Patriotism Has

Always To Be Considered In connection With The State Of Her Nerves.

 

The State Of All Our Nerves Was Healed In a Quarter Of An Hour. The

Senator Showed His Coupons Somewhat Truculently,  But They Were Received

As Things Of Price With Disarming Bows And Real Gladness. We Were Led

Through Rambling Passages Into Lofty White Chambers,  With Marble Floors

And Iron Bedsteads,  Full Of Simplicity And Cleanliness,  Where We Removed

All Recollections Of Paris Without Being Obliged To Consider A Stuffy

Carpet Or Satin-Covered Furniture. Italy,  In The Persons Of The

_Portier_ And The Chambermaid,  Laid Hold Of Us With Intelligible Smiles,

And We Were Charmed. Inside,  The Place Was Full Of Long Free Lines And

Cool Polished Surfaces,  And Pleasant Curves. Outside,  A Thick-Fronded

Palm Swayed In The Evening Wind Against A Climbing Hill Of Many-Tinted,

Many-Windowed Houses,  In all The Soft Colours We Knew Of Before. When

The _Portier_ Addressed Momma As "Signora" Her Cup Of Bliss Ran Over,

And She Made Up Her Mind That She Felt Able,  After All,  To Go Down To

Dinner.

 

Remembering Their Sentiments,  We Bowed As Slightly As Possible When We

Saw The Miss Binghams Across The Table,  And The Senator Threw That Into

His Voice,  As He Inquired How They Liked _La Belle Italie_ So Far,  And

Whether They Had Had Any Trouble With Their Trunks Coming In,  Which

Might Have Given Them To Understand That His Politeness Was Very

Perfunctory. If They Perceived It,  They Allowed It To Influence Them The

Other Way,  However. They Asked,  Almost As Cordially As If We Were

Middle-Class English People,  Whether We Had Actually Survived That Trip

To Versailles,  And Forbore To Comment When We Said We Had Enjoyed It,

Beyond Saying That If There Was One Enviable Thing It Was The American

Capacity For Pleasure. Yet One Could See Quite Plainly That The Vacuum

Caused By The Absence Of The American Capacity For Pleasure Was Filled

In Their Case By Something Very Superior To It.

 

"This City New To You?" Asked The Senator As The Meal Progressed.

 

"In A _Sense_,  Yes," Replied Miss Nancy Bingham.

 

"We'Ve Never _Studied_ It Before," Said Miss Cora.

 

"I Suppose It Has A Fascination All Its Own," Remarked Momma.

 

"Oh,  Rather!" Exclaimed Miss Nancy Bingham,  And I Reflected That When

She Was In england She Must Have Seen A Great Deal Of School-Boy

Society. I Decided At Once,  Noting Its Effect Upon The Lips Of A

Middle-Aged Maiden Lady,  That Momma Must Not Be Allowed To Pick Up The

Expression.

 

"It'S Simply Full Of Associations Of Old Families--The Dorias,  The

Pallavicinis,  The Durazzos," Remarked Miss Cora. "Do You Gloat On The

Medieval?"

 

"We'Re Perfectly Prepared To," Said The Senator. "I Believe We'Ve Got

Both Murray And Baedeker For This Place. Now Do You Commit Your Facts To

Memory Before Going To Bed The Night Previous,  Or Do You Learn Them Up

As You Go Along?"

 

"Oh," Said Miss Nancy Bingham,  "We Are Of The Opinion That One Should

Always Visit These Places With A Mind Prepared. Though I Myself Have No

Objection To Carrying A Guide-Book,  Provided It Is Covered With Brown

Paper."

 

"Then You Acquire It All Beforehand," Commented The Senator. "That,  I

Must Say,  Is Commendable Of You. And It'S Certainly The Only

Business-Like Way Of Proceeding. The Amount Of Time A Person Loses

Fooling Over Baedeker On The Spot----"

 

"One Of Us Does," Acknowledged Miss Nancy. "We Take It In Turns. And I

Must Say It Is Generally My Sister." And She Turned To Miss Cora,  Who

Blushed And Said,  "How Can You,  Nancy!"

 

"And You Use Her,  For That Particular Public Building Or Historic

Scene,  As A Sort Of Portable,  Self-Acting Reference Library," Remarked

Poppa. "That'S An Idea That Commends Itself To Me,  Daughter,  In

Connection With You."

 

I Was About To Reply In Terms Of Deprecation,  When A Confusion Of Sound

Drifted In From The Street,  Of Arriving Cabs And Expostulating Voices.

The Miss Binghams Looked At Each Other In consternation And Said With

One Accord,  "It _Was_ The _Fulda_!"

 

"Was It?" Inquired Poppa. "Do You Refer To The German Lloyd Steamship Of

That Name?"

 

"We Do," Said Miss Nancy. "About An Hour Ago We Were Sure We Saw Her

Steaming Into The Harbour."

 

"She Comes From New York,  I Suppose," Momma Remarked.

 

"She Does Indeed," Said Miss Nancy,  "And She'S Been Lying At The Docks

Unloading Americans Ever Since She Arrived. And Here They Are. Cora,

Have You Finished?"

 

Cora Said She Had,  And Without Further Parley The Ladies Rose And

Rustled Away. Their Invading Fellow-Countrymen Gratefully Took Their

Places,  And The Senator Sent A Glance Of Scorn After Them Strong Enough

To Make Them Turn Round. After Dinner,  We Saw A Collection Of Cabin

Trunks And Valises Standing In The Entrance Hall Labelled Bingham,

And Knew That Miss Nancy And Miss Cora Were Again In Flight Before The

Nemesis Of The American Eagle. I Will Not Repeat Poppa'S Sentiments.

 

On The Hotel Doorstep Next Morning Waited Alessandro Bebbini. He Waited

For Us--An Hour And A Half,  Because Momma Had Some Re-Packing To Do And

We Were Going On Next Day. Nobody Had Asked Him To Wait,  But He Had A

Carriage Ready And The Look Of Having Been Ordered Three Months

Previously. He Presented His Card To The Senator,  Who Glanced At Him And

Said,  "Do I _Look_ As If I Wanted A Shave?"

 

Alessandro Bebbini Smiled--An Olive Flash Of Pity And Amusement. "I Make

Not The Shava,  Signore," He Said,  "I Am The Courier--For Your Kind

Dispositione I Am Here."

 

"You Should _Never_ Judge Foreigners By Their Appearance,  Alexander,"

Rebuked Momma.

 

"Well,  Mr. Bebbini," Said The Senator,  "I Guess I'Ve Got To Apologise To

You. You See They Told Me Inside There That I Should Probably Find A--A

Tonsorial Artist Out Here On The Steps"--Poppa Never Minds Telling A

Story To Save People'S Feelings. "But You Haven'T Convinced Me," He

Continued,  "That I'Ve Got Any Use For A Courier."

 

"You Wish See Genoa--Is It Not?"

 

"Well,  Yes," Replied The Senator,  "It Is."

 

"Then With Me You Come Alonga. I Will Translate You The City--Shoppia,

Pallass--W'At You Like. Also I Am Not Dear Man Neither. In The Season

Yes. Then I Am Very Dear. But Now Is Nobody."

 

"What Does Your Time Cost To Buy?" Demanded Poppa.

 

"Very Cheap Price. Two Francs One Hour. Ten Francs One Day. But If With

You I Travel,  Make Arrangimento,  You Und'Stan',  Look For Traina--'Otel,

_Biglietto,  Bagaglia_--Then I Am So Little You Laugh. Two 'Undred Franc

The Month!" And Alessandro Indicated With Every Muscle Of His Body The

Amazement He Expected Us To Feel.

 

The Senator Turned To The Ladies Of His Family. "Now That I Think Of

It," He Said,  "Travels In Italy Are Never Written Without A Courier.

People Wouldn'T Believe They Were Authentic. And Bramley Said If You

Really Wanted To Enjoy Yourself It Was Folly Not To Engage One."

 

"I Suppose There'S More _Choice_ In The Season," Said Momma,  Glancing

Disapprovingly At Alessandro'S Swarthy Collar. "And I Confess I Should

Have Expected Them To Be Garbed More Picturesquely."

 

"Look At His Language," I Remarked. "You Can'T Have Everything."

 

The Senator Said That Was So. "I Believe You Can Come Along,  Mr.

Bebbini," He Said; "We'Re Strangers Here And We'Ll Get You To Help Us To

Enjoy Ourselves For A Month On The Terms You Name. You Can Begin Right

Away."

 

Alessandro Bowed And Waved Us To The Carriage. It Was Only The Ordinary

Commercial Bow Of Italy,  But I Could See That It Made A Difference To

Momma. He Saw Us Seated And Was Climbing On The Box When Poppa

Interfered. "There'S No Use Trying To Work It That Way," He Said; "We

Can'T Ask You To Twist Your Head Off Every Time You Emit A Piece Of

Information. Besides,  There'S No Sense In Your Riding On The Box When

There'S An Extra Seat. You Won'T Crowd Us Any,  Mr. Bebbini,  And I Guess

We Can Refrain From Discussing Family Matters For _One_ Hour."

 

So We Started,  With Mr. Bebbini At Short Range.

 

"I Think," Said He,  "You Lika First Off The 'Ouse Of Cristoforo

Colombo."

 

"I Don'T See How You Knew," Said Poppa,  "But You Are Perfectly Correct.

Cristoforo Was One Of The Most Distinguished Americans On The Roll Of

History,  And We,  Also,  Are Americans. At Once,  At Once To The Habitation

Of Cristoforo."

 

Alessandro Leaned Forward Impressively.

 

"Who Informa You Cristoforo Colombo Was Americano? Better You Don'T

Believe These Other Guide--Ignoranta Fella. Cristoforo Was Genoa Man,

Born Here,  You Und'Stan'? Italiano. Only Live In america A Lill'

W'Ile--To Discover,  You Und'Stan'?"

 

"Mr. Bebbini," Said Poppa,  "If You Go Around Contradicting Americans On

The Subject Of Christopher Columbus Your Business Will Decrease. As A

Matter Of Fact,  Christopher Wasn'T Born,  He Was Made,  And America Made

Him. He Has Every Right To Claim To Be Considered An American,  And It

Was A Little Careless Of Him Not To Have Founded A Family There. We Make

Excuses For Him--It'S Quite True He Had Very Little Time At His

Disposal--But We Feel It,  The Whole Nation Of Us,  To This Day."

 

The Via Balbi Was Cheerfully Crooked And Crowded,  It Had The Modern

Note Of The Street Car,  And The MediæVal One Of Old Women,  Arms Akimbo,

In The Nooks And Recesses,  Selling Big Black Cherries And Bursting Figs.

Even The Old Women Though,  As Momma Complained,  Wore Postilion Basques

And Bell Skirts,  Certainly In an Advanced Stage Of Usefulness,  But Of

Unmistakable Genesis--Just What Had Been Popular In chicago A Year Or

Two Before.

 

"Really,  My Love," Said Momma,  "I Don'T Know _What_ We Shall Do For

Description In Genoa,  The People Seem To Wear No Clothes Worth

Mentioning Whatever." We Concluded That All The City'S Characteristically

Italian Garments Were In The Wash; They Depended In Novel Cut And Colour

From Every Window That Did Not Belong To A Bank Or A University; And

Sometimes,  When The Side Street Was Narrow And The Houses High,  The Effect

Was Quite Imposing. Poppa Asked Alessandro Bebbini Whether They