The Princess Passes Volume 56, Alice Muriel Williamson, Charles Norris Williamson [primary phonics txt] 📗
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As I Was Wondering When They Would Wake, That I Might Consult Them On
The Details Of My Journey, I Glanced Up And Saw Molly, As Fresh As If
She Had Been Born With The Morning, Standing On A Balcony Just Over My
Head. In Her Hand Was A Letter, And As She Waved A Greeting, Something
Came Fluttering Uncertainly Down. I Managed To Catch This Something
Before It Touched Earth, And Had Inadvertently Seen That It Was An
Unmounted Photograph, Probably Taken By An Amateur Correspondent, When
Molly Leaned Over The Railing, With An Excited Cry. "Oh, Don't Look.
Please, _Please_ Don't Look At That Photograph!" She Exclaimed.
"Of Course I Won't," I Answered, Slightly Hurt. "What Do You Take Me
For?"
Chapter 8 (The Making Of A Mystery) Pg 56"I Know You Wouldn't Mean To," She Answered. "But You Might Glance
Involuntarily. You _Didn't_ See It, Did You?"
Suddenly I Was Tempted To Tease Her. "Would It Be So Very Dreadful If
I Did?"
"Yes, Dreadful," She Echoed Solemnly. "Don't Joke. Do Please Tell Me,
One Way Or The Other, If You Saw What Was In The Picture?"
"You May Set Your Mind At Ease. If It Were To Save My Life, I Couldn't
Tell Whether The Photograph Was Of Man, Woman, Boy, Girl, Or Beast;
And Now I'm Holding It Face Downward."
Molly Broke Into A Laugh. "Good!" She Exclaimed. "I'm Coming To Claim
My Property, And To Look At Your New Acquisitions. I've Been
Criticising Them From The Window, And I Congratulate You."
A Moment Later She Was Beside Me, Had Taken Her Mysterious Photograph,
And Hidden It Between The Pages Of A Letter, Covered With Writing In A
Pretty And Singularly Individual Hand. She Explained That A Whole
Budget Of "Mail" Had Been Forwarded To Martigny, In Consequence Of A
Telegram Sent To Lucerne, And Then, As If Forgetting The Episode, She
Applied Herself To Winning The Hearts Of The Man Joseph And The Mule
Finois.
Presently We Were Joined By Winston, And I Broached The Subject Of The
Start. "The Idea Is," I Said, "To Begin As I Mean To Go On, With A
Walk Of From Twenty To Thirty Miles A Day, According To The Scenery
And My Inclination. Marcoz Thinks That We Could Pass The Night
Comfortably Enough At A Place Called Bourg St. Pierre, Even If We
Didn't Get Away From Here For An Hour Or So. Then Early To-Morrow We
Would Push On For The Hospice, And Reach Aosta In The Evening."
"It Would Be A Mistake To Leave Here In The Heat Of The Day, Don't You
Think So?" Said Jack. "Much Better If We All Stopped On, Did Some
Sightseeing, And Then Molly And I Bade You Good Speed About Half-Past
Seven To-Morrow Morning."
"But, Lightning Conductor, You Forget We Can't Stay. You Know--_The
Letters_," Said Molly, With One Of Those Deep, Meaning Glances Which
Her Lovely Eyes Had More Than Once Sent Jack, When There Was Some
Question As To Our Ultimate Parting. My Heart Invariably Responded To
This Glance With A Pang, As A Nerve Responds To Electricity. She
Wished To Go Away With Her Lightning Conductor, And Leave Me At The
Mercy Of A Mule. Well, I Would Accept My Lonely Lot Without
Complaining, But Not Without Silently Reflecting That Happy Lovers Are
Selfish Beings At Best.
The Forlorn Consciousness That I Was Of Superlative Importance To No
One Was Heavy Upon Me. I Wanted Somebody To Care A Great Deal What
Became Of Me, And Evidently Nobody Did. I Was Horribly Homesick At
Breakfast, And The Winstons' Gaiety In The Face Of Our Parting Seemed
The Last Straw In My Burden. Perhaps Molly Saw This Straw In My Eyes,
Chapter 8 (The Making Of A Mystery) Pg 57For She Looked At Me Half Wistfully For A Moment, And Then Said, "If
We Weren't Sure This Walking Trip Of Yours Will Do You More Good Than
Anything Else, We Wouldn't Let You Leave Us, For We Have Loved Having
You. We'll Write To You At Aosta, Where You Will Be Staying For A
Couple Of Days, And Give You Our Itinerary, With Lots Of Addresses. By
That Time, You Too Will Have Made Up Your Mind About Your Route. You
Will Have Decided Whether To Branch Off Among The Bye-Ways, Or Go
Straight On South, Although You Mustn't Go _Too_ Quickly, And Get
There Too Early----"
"I Don't Believe I Shall Have Made Up My Mind To Anything In Aosta,"
Said I Gloomily. "I Feel That I Shall Still Be Unequal To That, Or Any
Other Mental Effort, And What Is To Become Of Me, Heaven, Joseph, And
Finois Alone Know."
"Now, Isn't It Funny, I Feel Exactly The Opposite? Something Seems To
Tell Me That At Aosta, If Not Before, You Will, So To Speak, 'Read
Your Title Clear,'" Said Molly, With Aggravating Cheerfulness. "As
Soon As You've Settled What Way To Take, You Must Write Or Wire; And
Who Knows But By-And-Bye We Shall Cross Each Other's Path Again, On
The Road To The Riviera?"
I Revived A Little. "I Don't Think You Told Me That You Were Going To
Run Down There. Jack Was Talking About Keeping Mostly To Switzerland,
I Thought."
"But Switzerland Will Turn A Cold Shoulder Upon Us, As The Autumn
Comes To Spoil Its Disposition, And We Were Saying Only This Morning
That It Would Be Fine To Make A Rush To The Riviera, For A Wind Up To
Our Trip."
"You See, Molly Had A Letter----" Jack Had Begun To Speak With An
Absent-Minded Air, But Suddenly Recovered Himself. "We Don't Care To
Get Back To England Till November," He Hastily Went On. "I Want Molly
To Have Some Hunting And A Jolly Round Of Country Houses Just To See
What We Can Do To Make An English Winter Tolerable. We've Got Four Or
Five Ripping Invitations, And In January Mistress Molly Herself Will
Have To Play Hostess To A Big House Party, At Brighthelmston Park,
Which The Mater And Governor Have Lent Us Till Next Season."
If He Had Wanted To Take My Mind Off An Inadvertence, He Could
Scarcely Have Manoeuvred Better, But Why The Inadvertence (If It Had
Been One) Could Concern Me, It Was Difficult To Imagine.
There Was A Friendly Dispute As To Whether Molly And Jack Should See
Me Off, Or Whether I Should Wish Them Good-Bye Before Starting On My
Journey; But In The End It Was Settled That I Should Be The One To
Leave First. Perhaps They Believed That, If Left To Myself, I Should
Never Start At All; Perhaps They Wished To Add Photographs Of The
Mule-Party To Their Kodak Collection, Already Large; Or Perhaps They
Thought Only How To Make The Parting Pleasantest For Me, Since I Had
No One, And They Had Each Other.
Chapter 8 (The Making Of A Mystery) Pg 58
In Any Case, At Ten O'clock All That Was Left Of My Store Was Placed
Upon The Back Of Finois, Who Had The Air Of Ignoring Its Existence,
And Mine As Well. Had He Been A Horse, He Would At Least Have Deigned
To Exchange Glances With Me, Friendly Or Otherwise; But Being What He
Was, He Looked Everywhere Except At Me, As If He Had Been Some Haughty
Aristocrat Conscientiously Snubbing An Offensive Upstart. Joseph
Appeared To Be The One Human Being Of More Importance For Finois Than
The Moving Bough Of An Inedible Tree, Bush, Or Shrub, And Even Molly
Could Win Him To No Change Of Facial Expression, Though He Ate Her
Offered Sugar.
There Was A Pang When I Turned My Back Irrevocably Upon My Friends,
Having Waved My Hand Or My Panama So Often That To Do So Again Would
He Ridiculous. We Were Off, Joseph, Finois, And I; There Was No
Getting Round It; And As We Ambled Away Along The Hot White Road, We
Seemed But Small Things In The Scheme Of A Busy And Indifferent
World--Mere Cards, Shuffled By The Hands Of An Expert, For A Game In
Which Our Destination Was Unknown.
Chapter 9 (The Brat) Pg 59"Be Kind And Courteous To This Gentleman; Hop In His Walk
And Gambol In His Eyes."
--Shakespeare.
In Beginning Our Tramp, I Trudged Step For Step With Joseph, Who Had
Finois' Bridle Over His Arm, And Answered My Questions Regarding The
Various Features Of The Landscape. Thus I Was Not Long In Discovering
That He Had A Knowledge Of The English Language Of Which He Was
Innocently Proud. I Made Some Enquiry Concerning A Fern Which Grew
Above The Roadside, When We Had Passed Through Martigny Bourg, And
Joseph Answered That One Did Not See It Often In This Country. "It Is
A Seldom Plant," Said He. "It Live In High Up Places, Where It Was
_Difficile_ To Catch, For One Shall Have To Walk Over Rocks, Which Do
Not--What You Say? They Go Down Immediately, Not By-And-Bye."
I Liked This Description Of A Precipice, And Later, When We Had
Engaged In A Desultory Discussion On Politics, I Was Delighted When
Joseph Spoke Solemnly Of The "Great Mights." He Had Formed Opinions Of
Lord Beaconsfield And Gladstone, But Had Not Yet Had Time To Do So Of
Mr. Chamberlain, For, Said He, "These Things Take A Long Time To Think
About." Fifteen Or Twenty Years From Now, He Will Probably Be Ready
With An Opinion On Men And Matters Of The Present. He Asked Gravely If
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