The Dingy Italian (suddenly discovering CULCHARD’s nationality).  Ecco, siete Inglese!  Lat us spika Ingelis, I onnerstan’ ’im to ze bottom-side. (Laboriously, to CULCHARD, who tries to conceal his chagrin.) ’Ow menni time you employ to go since Coire at here? (C. nods with vague encouragement.) Vich manners of vezzer you vere possess troo your travels—­mosh ommerella? (C.’s eyes grow vacant.) Ha, I tink it vood!  Zis day ze vicket root sall ’ave plenti ’orse to pull, &c., &c. (Here PODBURY comes up, and puts some rugs the coupe of the diligence.) You sit at ze beginning-end, hey? better, you tink, zan ze mizzle?  I too, zen, sall ride at ze front—­we vill spika Ingelis, altro!

Podb. (overhearing this, with horror).  One minute, CULCHARD. (He draws him aside.) I say, for goodness’ sake, don’t let’s have that old organ-grinding Johnny in the coupe with us!

Culch. Organ-grinder! you are so very insular!  For anything you can tell, he may be a decayed nobleman.

Pod. (coarsely).  Well, let him decay somewhere else, that’s all!  Just tell the Conductor to shove him in the interieur, do, while I nip in the coupe and keep our places.

[Illustration:  “An elderly Englishwoman is sitting on her trunk.”]

[CULCHARD, on reflection, adopts this suggestion, and the Italian Gentleman, after fluttering feebly about the coupe door, is unceremoniously bundled by the Conductor into the hinder part of the diligence.

IN THE BERNARDINO PASS, DURING THE ASCENT.

Culch. Glorious view one gets at each fresh turn of the road, PODBURY!  Look at Hinter-rhein, far down below there, like a toy village, and that vast desolate valley, with the grey river rushing through it, and the green glacier at the end, and these awful snow-covered peaks all round—­look, man!

Podb. I’m looking, old chap.  It’s all there, right enough!

Culch. (vexed).  It doesn’t seem to be making any particular impression on you, I must say!

Podb. It’s making me deuced peckish, I know that—­how about lunch, eh!

Culch. (pained).  We are going through scenery like this, and all you think of is—­lunch! (PODBURY opens a basket.) You may give me one of those sandwiches.  What made you get veal? and the bread’s all crust, too!  Thanks, I’ll take some claret.... (They lunch; the vehicle meanwhile toils up to the head of the Pass.) Dear me, we’re at the top already!  These rocks shut out the valley altogether—­much colder at this height, eh?  Don’t you find this keen air most exhilarating?

Podb. (shivering).  Oh very, do you mind putting your window up?  Thanks.  You seem uncommon chirpy to-day.  Beginning to get over it, eh?