The Princess Passes Volume 56 by Alice Muriel Williamson, Charles Norris Williamson (book recommendations .TXT) 📖

Chapter 26 (The Vanishing Of The Prince) Pg 202

A Comrade Whose Very Existence Had Been Unknown To Me When First I

Made Them. Yet, On The Other Hand, I Had Grown So Used To His

Companionship Now, That The Thought Of Continuing My Journey Without

Him Was Distasteful. With The Little Pal, No Day Had Ever Seemed Too

Long, No Misadventure But Had Had Its Spice. Lacking The Little Pal,

The Vista Of Day After Day Spent In Covering The Country At The Rate

Of Three Miles An Hour Loomed Before Me Monotonous As The Treadmill.

My Gorge Rose Against It. I Could Not Go On As I Had Begun. Why Punish

Myself By A Diet Of Salt When The Savour Had Gone?

 

"Joseph," I Said At Last, "The Disappearance Of The Young Monsieur Has

Been A Blow To Me, I Admit. It Has Destroyed My Appetite For

Sightseeing, For The Moment, At All Events. I Can't Rearrange My Plans

Instantly; But This I Have Determined. I'll End My Walking-Tour Here.

What To Do Afterwards I Will Make Up My Mind In Good Time, But

Meanwhile, I Won't Keep You Dancing Attendance Upon Me. You Will Be

Anxious To Get Back Home----"

 

"Monsieur, I Have No Home." There Was Despair In Joseph's Tone, And

Suddenly The Keen Point Of Truth Pierced The Armour Of My Selfishness.

Poor Joseph, Facing Exile--From Innocentina--And Keeping His

Countenance Politely, While I Densely Discoursed Of "Blows"! Being A

Muleteer "Farmed Out" By A Master, He Was At The Mercy Of Fate, And

Temporarily I Represented Fate. He Could Not Journey On Southwards,

Whither His Heart Was Wandering, Unless I Bade Him Go. This Fine

Fellow, This Old Soldier, Was As Much At My Orders As If I Had Been A

King.

 

"If You Aren't In A Hurry To Get Back To Martigny, Joseph," Said I,

Changing My Tone, "I'll Tell You What You Can Do For Me. You May Take

Some Of My Luggage Down To The Riviera. I'm Expecting A Portmanteau To

Arrive Here By Rail To-Night Or To-Morrow Morning, With Plenty Of

Clothing In It. But There Are Those Hold-Alls Which Finois Has Carried

For So Long. I Can't Travel About With Them In Railway Carriages; At

That I Draw The Line; Yet If I Sent Them By _Grande Vitesse_, Their

Contents Would Be Injured Or Stolen. Take Them Down To Monte Carlo For

Me. I Shall Go There Sooner Or Later, To Meet Some Friends Of Mine Who

Are Motoring, And I Shall Stop At The Royal."

 

Joseph's Face Would Have Put Radium To Shame, With The Light It

Generated.

 

"Monsieur Is Not Joking? He Is In Earnest?" The Poor Fellow Stammered.

 

"Most Certainly. And When We Meet On The Riviera, We Will Talk Over A

Scheme For Your Future Of Which I've Been Thinking. If You Would Like

To Buy Finois Of Your Patron, And Two Or Three Other Animals Only

Less Admirable Than He, Setting Up In Business For Yourself, I Think I

Know A Man Who Might Advance You The Money."

 

"Oh, Monsieur!"

 

Had There Been A Little More Of The French, Or A Little Less Of The

Chapter 26 (The Vanishing Of The Prince) Pg 203

Swiss, In Honest Joseph's Blood, I Think That He Would Have Fallen On

His Knees And Rained Kisses On My Mild-Stained Boots. The Swiss Upped

The Balance, Luckily For Us Both, And Kept Him Erect; But There Was A

Suspicious Glitter In His Deep Eyes, And A Sudden Pinkness Of His

Respectable Brown Nose, Which Gave To His "Oh, Monsieur!" More Meaning

Than A Volume Of Protestations.

 

His Hand Came Out Impulsively, Then Flew Back Humbly To His Side, But

I Put Out Mine And Grasped It.

 

"Monsieur, I Would Die For You," He Said.

 

"I Would Prefer," I Returned, "That You Should Live--For Innocentina."

Chapter 27 (The Strange Mushroom) Pg 204

    "Have You Any Commission From Your Lord To Negotiate With

    My Face?"

                                                --Shakespeare.

 

 

When Joseph Had Gone, With His Pockets And His Heart Both Full To

Bursting, I Felt Much Like The Captain Of A Small Fishing Vessel,

Wrecked In Strange Seas, Who Has Seen His Comrades Depart On Rafts,

While He Stayed On Board His Sinking Ship Alone With Three Biscuits

And A Gill Of Water. There Was Also A Certain Resemblance Between Me

And A Well-Meaning Plant Which Has Been Pulled Up By Its Roots Just As

It Had Begun To Grow Nicely, And Then Stuck Into The Earth Again,

Upside Down, To Do The Best It Can.

 

I Was Not Quite Sure Yet Which Was Up Or Down, And Which Way I Had

Better Grow, If At All. There Was, However, An Attraction In A

Southerly Direction: Letters Were To Be Forwarded To Me At Grenoble,

And There Would Probably Be One From Jack Or Molly Winston, Saying

When And Where They Might Be Expected To Come Upon The Scene With

Mercédès. Finding Me Stranded, They Would Doubtless Take Pity Upon My

Forlornness, And Offer Me A Lift In Their Car, Down To The Riviera.

And To The Riviera I Still Felt Strongly Impelled To Go, Though I Had

No Longer The Contessa For An Excuse. She Had Been Engaged, In My

Little Drama, For The Part Of "Leading Juvenile," With The Privilege

Of Understudying The Heroine. But She Had Not Shown An Aptitude For

Either Rôle, And Having Stepped Down To That Of First Walking Lady,

She Had Minced Off My Stage Altogether. Now The Cast Was Filled Up

Without Her, Though Strangely Filled, Since After The First Act There

Had Been No Leading Lady At All. Nevertheless, Having Arranged A Scene

At Monte Carlo I Could Not Persuade Myself To Give It Up, Though It

Chapter 27 (The Strange Mushroom) Pg 205

Would Not Be Played, In Any Event, At The Contessa's Villa.

 

The Boy Had Vanished, And The Sole Word He Had Left Was That I Had

Better Not Count Upon Seeing Him Again. But The More I Thought Of It,

The Less Necessity I Saw For Taking Him At That Word. He Perhaps

Flattered Himself That He Had Picked Up All Clues And Carried Them Off

With Him In The Wonderful Bag. But He Had Purposefully Hinted That

"Something Might Happen At Monte Carlo," And I Hoped The Something

Might Mean That, After All, The Boy Would Materialise With His Sister

At The Hôtel De Paris On The Night After Our Arrival. In Any Case, If

The Princess Were Going To Monte Carlo, There Would The Fairy Prince

Be Also, And I Did Not See Why I Should Not Be There Too, Whether

Molly And Jack Tooled Me Down In Their Motor Or Not.

 

Fifteen Minutes After Joseph Had Gone From My Life To Mingle His Lot

With Innocentina's, I Had My Own Plans Definitely Mapped Out. I Would

Stop In Chambéry Overnight, To Wait For The Portmanteau With Which I

Had Kept Up A Speaking Acquaintance In The Larger Centres Of

Civilisation, During The Tour, And Next Day I Would Go On To Grenoble

By Train, There To Pick Up Letters.

 

The Luggage Duly Arrived In The Evening, So That There Was No Bar To

The Carrying Out Of My Design; And, Accordingly, After My Coffee On

The Following Morning, I Conscientiously Went Out To See More Of The

Town Before Taking The Eleven-O'clock Train.

 

It Was Only Ten, And As My Arrangements Were All Made, I Had Time For

Strolling--Too Much To Suit My Mood. The Murmur Of An Automobile

Preparing To Take Flight Attracted Me From A Distance, For It Seemed

That The Voice Had The Cadence Of A Car I Knew. I Hastened My Steps,

Turned A Corner, And There, In Front Of The Hôtel De France's Rival,

Stood A Fine Motor, Panting, Quivering In Eagerness To Dart Away.

 

It Was A Mercédès, And If It Were Not Molly Winston's Wedding-Present

Mercédès, It Was That Mercédès' Twin. But There Was A Strange Mushroom

In It.

 

I Would Have Known Molly's Mushroom Among A Thousand. It Was Small,

Round, Compact, And Of A Dark Cream Colour. This Mushroom Was Flatter,

Wider, More Expansive, With An Exceedingly Slender Stem; And In Tint

It Was Of A Pale Silvery Grey. It Grew Up Straight And Slim In The

Tonneau Of The Car, All Alone, Unaccompanied By Any Similar Growths,

Or Any Guardian Goblins; And Several Servants Of The Hotel Were

Grouped About, Waiting To See It Off.

 

I Waited, Too, Sniffing Adventure With The Scent Of Petrol, And

Interested In The Resemblance To That Good Dragon With Which I Had

Been Friends; But I Was About To Turn Away At Last When A Form Which

Had Evidently Been Squatting Behind The Car On The Other Side, Rose To

Its Feet. It Was That Of Gotteland, And Had He Been A Long-Lost Uncle

From Australia With His Pockets Crammed With Wills In My Favour, I

Could Not Have Been More Delighted To See Him.

Chapter 27 (The Strange Mushroom) Pg 206