The Smile of the Stranger (6 page)

“If only some means could be achieved of guiding the vessel
’
s
direction
,”
observed Herr Welcker, “this might indeed be a most practical and commodious method of travel. But I understand that neither oars, sails, nor traction by birds has yet proved efficacious in this respect.
”

“Traction by birds! I should think not, indeed!”

“And yet if only some
large
birds—say, swans—might be harnessed, one would almost think it practicable,” sighed Herr Welcker. “However, such speculations are not to our purpose. And we appear to be making excellent headway—always supposing we do not drift too far to the west. Indeed I flatter myself that I might yet return in time to have the Sevres delivered to the Pavilion for a dinner party that His Highness gives there in honor of Lady Jersey next Thursday.”

“A Sevres dinner service?” inquired Juliana.

“No, miss.
Pots de
chamber
,”
Herr Welcker replied, employing the French term, presumably, out of a delicate wish not to embarrass the young lady.

Juliana, however, reared in Italy, where the most outrageous topics were liable to be discussed at the top of somebody
’
s lungs in the street, at any hour of the day or night, was not embarrassed, but only curious.

“
Pots de chambre
for a dinner party? How singular! I do not precisely understand.”

“Why, miss, where have you been all your life? In any English gentleman
’
s establishment, it is the custom to keep a set of
pots de chambre
in the sideboard.”

“Although born in England I have lived in Switzerland and Italy all my life, and I still do not understand. Why in the sideboard?”

“Why, for when the ladies leave the table.”

Since Juliana continued to look baffled, he explained further.

“At the conclusion of any English dinner party, when the dessert is finished, the ladies quit the table and repair to the drawing room, leaving the gentlemen to their wine, their stories (unfit for the ears of ladies), and their
pots de chambre
.”

“And what do the ladies do?”

“How should I know?” replied Herr Welcker. “I presume they, likewise, recount each other stories unsuitable for the ears of gentlemen.”

“What a very uncouth custom! And how long do the gentlemen remain round the table drinking their wine and telling their stories?”

“As long as the wine holds out,” replied Herr Welcker.

“So you are carrying a set of these toilet articles for the Prince of Wales?”

“Yes. He has several sets, of course; silver ones for travel and so forth; it was most vexatious: he had ordered this set from the Sevres manufactory some while since, with his monogram and royal coat of arms. But then, of course, revolution broke out in France, and it was not possible to have them delivered. However, on my travels about France, I discovered that the set had, in fact, been completed, and I was able to come by them, on payment of various largesses. Only imagine my chagrin if, after all that, I had not been able to get them out of the country!”

“It would have been too bad, indeed.”

“I may flatter myself that I have a most satisfactory consignment,” pursued Herr Welcker, looking with complacence about his well-packed vessel. “I have, besides the Sevres and the Gobelins, a table by Riesener (that was in the chateau of the unfortunate Vicomte de Boyenne), a marble bust by Coysevox, a Keller bronze, a candelabrum by Thomire, not to mention looking glasses, girandoles, two clocks, and some paintings by Greuze and Claude.”

“How—how very gratifying,” said Juliana faintly, shifting her feet and wondering if they were resting on the Claude
—
who was esteemed by her father to be one of the most superior French painters of landscape. “You may certainly congratulate yourself.”

“I should say so! A pretty penny they have cost me too, from first to last! Come, give us a kiss, miss,” said Herr Welcker, without altering his manner in the least particular. Juliana stared at him in astonishment. His voice and expression were so perfectly matter-of-fact and unchanged from what they had been before that she could not at first believe she had heard him aright.

“I
beg
your pardon?” she said in a tone calculated, she hoped, to freeze out any encroaching pretensions.

“Come, don
’
t be standoffish, miss
!
Give us a kiss? After all,” said Herr Welcker, “who
’
s to know? The old gentleman
’
s fast asleep—if there are any angels flying around, they are the only witnesses. And
they
won
’
t peach! And you can trust
me
not to cry rope on you at any later time. Bless my soul!” he added encouragingly, “I haven
’
t run Prinney
’
s errands all these years without learning to keep a still tongue in my head, I can tell you!”

“There will be nothing to keep a still tongue
about
, Herr Welcker!”

“Oh come, my dear! Don
’
t be missish! After all, it isn
’
t as if there were room for anything
else
,” Herr Welcker pointed out with exactitude. “What
’
s a mere kiss, after all? Situated as we are, there could be no thought of impropriety in a simple kiss, with that curst candelabrum sticking in between us like the sword of what
’
s-his-name. So why not be friendly now, eh?”

“I am perfectly friendly, Herr Welcker. Indeed, my father and I must be forever obliged to you
!
But I have not the least intention or inclination to kiss you. I should explain,” said Juliana firmly, “that up to this day I have never kissed any male person, excepting my father—”

“God bless my soul!” he ejaculated involuntarily. “And you as pretty as a picture! What in the devil
’
s name were all those Italians
about
?”

“It was not that they did not sometimes try,” Juliana acknowledged. “That is why I always carry this extremely long pin in my fichu”—she drew it forth and exhibited it—“which I have been used to stick into any person who attempted to insult me.”

“No, have you indeed?” he said, daunted, as she calmly
re
turned the pin to its resting place. “Well, I
’
m blest if I understand you, miss, and that
’
s a certainty! So pretty and lively as you are, with a cool head on your shoulders, worth a dozen fellows I can think of, a kind heart, anybody can see—and you boggle at a kiss. Now why, pray?”

“Why?” asked Juliana, wrinkling up her forehead thoughtfully. “It is because, Herr Welcker, I do not intend to kiss any male person—excepting relatives, I suppose,” she added, thinking of her grandfather, “until I encounter a man who fulfills my ideal of what the perfect gentleman should be.”

“Oh, indeed?” said Herr Welcker, with the liveliest curiosity. “And what might those ideals be, if I might inquire, miss?”

“He must be exactly like King Charles the First
!
”

“Good gad!” he said, really startled. “What a nature to wish on the poor fellow! If
that
’
s
your ideal, I can
’
t say I
’
m surprised that you haven
’
t come across him yet—especially in Italy! Even in England you don
’
t see replicas of Charles the First scattered all abroad.”

“I daresay in England I shall be more likely to come across such a person, however,” Juliana said with some confidence. “An English gentleman is said to be the flower of European civilization, is he not?”

“Is he? Being only a Dutchman myself, ma
’
am, I can
’
t
say.
”

“Certainly he is.” Her confidence wavered a moment as she thought of the English dinner-party ritual just recounted to her by Herr Welcker; then she added firmly,
‘
Think of Lord Chesterfield.”

“Oh—why, yes, certainly, miss, if you wish,” replied Herr Welcker, possibly asking himself whether she referred to Lord Chesterfield
’
s precepts, or his practice. “I
’
ll tell you one difficulty I see in your plans, though, my dear!”

“And what is that, Herr Welcker?”

“Why—you go to England—you look around you—by and by you meet this fellow who is the what-d
’
you-call-
’
em of
European civilization and looks just like Charles the First
—
and what
’
ll you do if he
’
s married already, eh? Or if he don
’
t seem inclined to look at
you
?”

“I shall never tell my love; but sit like Patience on a monument, gently pining away,” said Juliana promptly. “But, if he is like Charles the First, he
will
look at me
!
He may not be free, of course,” she acknowledged, “for life, as I already know, is full of such sad ironies, but he will
understand
me. One soul will reach to another. And I would rather love him in vain, from afar, than settle down in some stupid union with a more commonplace person.”

And she regarded with indulgence Herr Welcker
’
s round plump face and untidy brown hair, contrasting it with those angelically sad eyes, the silky beard and mustaches, the straight nose, curling locks, and look of mild, tragic gravity that characterized her hero. Herr Welcker, perfectly understanding the nature of her scrutiny, took such an estimate of his inadequacy in good part; there was absolutely no purpose, he acknowledged to himself, in trying to compete with somebody
’
s ideal.

“Well, well
!
” he said good-naturedly. “I can see you have it all worked out, miss, and I
’
m sure I wish you well!” And I wish you joy of your ideal when you find him, he added to himself, for after ten years of serving the Prince of Wales, he was not apt to entertain visions of any Prince Charming.

“And I wish
you
well too, Herr Welcker,” responded Juliana politely. “I hope that we reach England in time for you to provide the chamber pots for the Prince
’
s dinner party.” She gave a shiver, and a yawn. “
Dio
mio
, but I am tired! I think if I were only a
little
warmer I might even be able to sleep for a short period.”

She gazed hopefully at Herr Welcker, who, at this strong hint, could hardly avoid undoing yet another of his precious tapestries and passing it to her so that she might swathe it around her shoulders, which were indeed very inadequately protected by a worn old pelisse.

“
Thank
you, dear Herr Welcker. You are truly
ki
nd. Ahh
...” S
he yawned again, and her eyes closed. Herr Welcker regarded her with amiability mixed with exasperation; she seemed to have gone off into deep slumber on her feet, like a little pony, without the least difficulty; whereas he found himself totally unable to sleep, and was obliged to remain awake, shifting from icy foot to foot, while the remorseless hours slowly crept by, the stars moved across the sky, Juliana
’
s father snored placidly in the bottom of the basket between the legs of the Riesener, and the balloon, it was to be hoped, wandered on its way toward the coast of England.

When Juliana opened her eyes, several hours later, she was astonished to see broad daylight. The sun was not shining, however; indeed, thick gray cloud covered the sky, and a light rain was falling. And the reason she had woken was because Herr Welcker was shaking her by the shoulder.

“Miss! Miss! The Gobelins must
not
get wet. I must require you to pass it back to me, so that I can wrap it up in the sacking.”

“What about
me
?”
said Juliana rather resentfully, folding up the tapestry, however, as requested.

“You, miss, are young and strong, and have powers of self-regeneration not possessed by inanimate material,” said Herr Welcker, whose amiability had been somewhat cooled by hours of cramped freezing wakefulness while his passengers slept. “I should be obliged if you would remove the covering from your father too, if you please.”

“Certainly not!” said Juliana with decision. “My father, Herr Welcker, is a very sick man. He is also a writer of international repute, and deserves the greatest care and attention.”

Surprisingly, this reasoning appeared to weigh with Herr Welcker.

“Oh, a writer, is he? Prinney always has a regard for
writers and such people. What is his name? What does he write?”

“He is a historian, and he writes under the name of Charles Elphinstone.”

“Oh, ay, his name comes to mind. Life of the Duke of Buckingham, was that it? Ay, I mind Prinney thought highly of it.”

“And he is in very poor health,” Juliana said firmly. “He must
not
be uncovered. If you are anxious about your tapestry, Herr Welcker, the best thing you can do is to unwrap something else, that will not be hurt by a few drops of rain
—
such as the Sevres—and lay the wrappings from that on top of the tapestry. Thus Papa will have an extra covering, which will be just as well, for I hardly think the Gobelin is sufficient to keep the damp off him.”

“Oh, very well,” grunted Herr Welcker, impressed in spite of himself by her practicality, and this was done. At first Juliana kept her gaze politely averted from the uncovered Sevres ware, but as the long dull day wore on it proved impossible to maintain this attitude. Indeed, by dusk they were all three on terms of such intimacy that Juliana felt as if she had lived with Herr Welcker for years, and entertained toward him the kind of cordial boredom that is usually reserved for blood relations. They tried playing word games—at least Juliana did, and Herr Welcker did his best to comply; poor Mr. Elphinstone was too unwell to do anything but remain prone in the bottom of the basket, accepting gratefully, from time to time, a sip of Herr Welcker
’
s cordial. At first Juliana asked Herr Welcker a great many questions about England, which he answered in a somewhat caustically objective manner, describing the Macaroni Club, the ways of
ton
society, Vauxhall gardens, King George Ill
’
s erratic and irascible habits, Mr. Fox
’
s amazing gambling losses, and other things that he thought might be of interest to her. Juliana said she thought England sounded a very singular place.

At last, hunger making them bad-tempered, they fell into
a weary silence, and stared ahead with a longing that turned to hope and then to almost incredulous joy as the flat sandy coast of England finally crept into view on the gray and rainy horizon. More and more details gradually became apparent.

“Where are we, Herr Welcker, can you tell?” inquired Juliana, when waterways, chalk cliffs, and church steeples began to be recognizable as such.

“Ay, my dear, I am glad to say that the wind must have shifted round in the night, and has blown us due northward. I was afeared we might find ourselves down in Somerset, but that is the Isle of Wight we are now leaving to our right—I recognize the Needles lighthouse. So if I can procure some kind of conveyance to take me to Southampton, I may yet be in Brighton by tomorrow.”

“Brighton? Is that where His Highness resides?”

“Yes, miss, mostly. He has built himself this great Pavilion in the town, you know, and so long as one of his lady friends is there, he is content enough. Time was when it was Mrs. Fitz, but these days it is generally Lady Jersey; they say he has built her a special set of stairs.”

“
Stairs?
What a singular present,” said Juliana rather inattentively; her eyes were fixed on the scenery below. “
Dio
mio,
but England is a gray, flat, dismal-looking country, Herr Welcker! Is all of it like this?”

“No, no, miss, some of it is well enough,” said Herr Welcker tolerantly. “And Brighton, where His Highness resides, is as fine a town as you could wish to see.”

“But, if Lady Jersey
—
Did you not say that His Highness was about to
marry
, Herr Welcker?”

“Marriage and love, miss, are two very different things.”

“That will not be the case in
my
life,” said Juliana very firmly.

As Herr Welcker had no reply for this, he inquired, after a pause, “Where is your destination in England, my dear?”

Since by this time Juliana had formed the opinion that
Herr Welcker, though obliging, was a somewhat disreputable type of person, she decided that it might be best if he did not know their true name and direction. She therefore informed him merely that they were bound for a small place in the county of Hampshire, at no great distance, she understood, from Southampton.

“Oh, in that case you won
’
t have the least difficulty, miss. By the look of our course, you will not have above forty miles to travel once we have made our landfall. And a good thing too, if you ask me,” added Herr Welcker, with some concern, glancing at the sick man tossing restlessly at their feet. “I do not scruple to say, miss, that the sooner your papa is in his own home, and under the care of a good doctor, the better it will be.” Since he was a kindly, though realistic man, he did not utter the thought that had come unbidden into his mind, which was that, considering Mr. Elphinstone
’
s state of health and prospects of survival in Britain, he might as well have been left behind and the parcel of Limoges taken in his stead. But there was no use crying over spilt milk jugs.

“Yes; I am afraid you are very right,” said Juliana, making him start slightly—but she was agreeing with his spoken comment, not his unspoken one. “Where shall we land, Herr Welcker?”

“On the first nice flat piece of land that we spy, my dear.”

He pulled a string that let out some of the hydrogen gas, and the balloon sank slightly, wrinkling and swaying as the air hissed from the valve. Juliana, who had been mending a small rent in one of the tapestries—for she carried a housewife full of needles and thread in her reticule and hated to be idle—bit off her thread, folded the material carefully once more, and rewrapped it in its sacking cover.

“Are we nearly home?” said Mr. Elphinstone faintly. His mind had wandered at times during the day; Juliana thought that he believed himself a boy again, returning from school for the Christmas holiday.

“Yes, dearest Papa! Soon we shall be there!” She crouched down to embrace him and smooth his hair. Herr Welcker pulled the string again, and the balloon descended even lower. The blue of dusk was beginning to enshroud the countryside below; when next Juliana looked over the side she could see, among the bosky woods and little, hedged-in fields, that here and there a solitary light was beginning to shine faintly in the twilight. It seemed a very quiet, unpeopled landscape.

“Ah, there
’
s a clump of lights ahead,” Herr Welcker said with satisfaction, and opened the hydrogen valve once again. “This is not a part of the country I know well, but that looks like a decent-sized place where one would hope to be able to hire a conveyance. Heaven send they are not as suspicious as the French, take us all for a parcel of spies, and cast us into jail!”

“What recourse have we if they do so?” inquired Juliana rather hollowly. She did not relish the thought of spending her first repatriated night in an English jail.

“Nay, never trouble your pretty head, my dear. I carry letters of authorization from Prinney himself—enough to get us all out of the Tower of London should we chance to land in there. Now—here
’
s a big meadow—slow and steady does it
—
we don
’
t want to hit a hedgerow at this juncture and break all those pots we have brought so far at such trouble!”

Considering that he had never navigated an air balloon before, Juliana could not but admire his dexterity, as, little by little, he reduced the quantity of gas in the envelope, so that the great unwieldy craft sank lower and lower, not too fast, not too slowly, while it continued to glide northward on the light wind. The ground moving past below them was very close now; Juliana, looking down, could see with disappointment that English grass looked much like French or Italian grass. English cattle, though, she was interested to note, seemed decidedly fatter than French cattle, as, bellowing with fright, they bolted heavily away from the descending aerial monster.

“Now, miss! When I say
‘
Hold
’
will you please endeavor to hold that tall pile of packages in place? For I am afraid that when we touch the ground there may be some considerable bump, and it would be too bad if everything should fall about and get broken at this stage.”

“Besides falling upon Papa, which would also be too bad,” agreed Juliana.

“Hold!” he cried, and she did her best, as requested, to keep the cargo in position by wrapping her arms and body around as many bundles as she could, and clutching the edge of the basket with both hands.

There was a violent thump, and poor Mr. Elphinstone cried out with alarm and surprise.