The night had played sad tricks with Mr.Nicholas Treffry; his hat was grey with dust; his cheeks brownish-purple, there were heavy pouches beneath his eyes, which stared painfully.
"We'll call a halt," he said, "and give the gees their grub, poor things.Can you find some water, Mr.Harz? There's a rubber bucket in behind.
Can't get about myself this morning; make that lazy fellow of mine stir his stumps."Harz saw that he had drawn off one of his boots, and stretched the foot out on a cushion.
"You're not fit to go farther," he said; "you're ill.""Ill!" replied Mr.Treffry; "not a bit of it!"Harz looked at him, then catching up the bucket, made off in search of water.When he came back the horses were feeding from an india-rubber trough slung to the pole; they stretched their heads towards the bucket, pushing aside each other's noses.
The flame in the east had died, but the tops of the larches were bathed in a gentle radiance; and the peaks ahead were like amber.
Everywhere were threads of water, threads of snow, and little threads of dewy green, glistening like gossamer.
Mr.Treffry called out: "Give me your arm, Mr.Harz; I'd like to shake the reefs out of me.When one comes to stand over at the knees, it's no such easy matter, eh?" He groaned as he put his foot down, and gripped the young man's shoulder as in a vise.Presently he lowered himself on to a stone.
"'All over now!' as Chris would say when she was little; nasty temper she had too--kick and scream on the floor! Never lasted long though....'Kiss her! take her up! show her the pictures!' Amazing fond of pictures Chris was!" He looked dubiously at Harz; then took a long pull at his flask."What would the doctor say? Whisky at four in the morning! Well! Thank the Lord Doctors aren't always with us." Sitting on the stone, with one hand pressed against his side, and the other tilting up the flask, he was grey from head to foot.
Harz had dropped on to another stone.He, too, was worn out by the excitement and fatigue, coming so soon after his illness.His head was whirling, and the next thing he remembered was a tree walking at him, turning round, yellow from the roots up; everything seemed yellow, even his own feet.Somebody opposite to him was jumping up and down, a grey bear--with a hat--Mr.Treffry! He cried: "Ha-alloo!" And the figure seemed to fall and disappear....
When Harz came to himself a hand was pouring liquor into his mouth, and a wet cloth was muffled round his brows; a noise of humming and hoofs seemed familiar.Mr.Treffry loomed up alongside, smoking a cigar; he was muttering: "A low trick, Paul--bit of my mind!" Then, as if a curtain had been snatched aside, the vision before Harz cleared again.The carriage was winding between uneven, black-eaved houses, past doorways from which goats and cows were coming out, with bells on their necks.Black-eyed boys, and here and there a drowsy man with a long, cherry-stemmed pipe betwen his teeth, stood aside to stare.
Mr.Treffry seemed to have taken a new lease of strength; like an angry old dog, he stared from side to side."My bone!" he seemed to say: "let's see who's going to touch it!"The last house vanished, glowing in the early sunshine, and the carriage with its trail of dust became entombed once more in the gloom of tall trees, along a road that cleft a wilderness of mossgrown rocks, and dewy stems, through which the sun had not yet driven paths.
Dominique came round to them, bearing appearance of one who has seen better days, and a pot of coffee brewed on a spirit lamp.Breakfast --he said--was served!
The ears of the horses were twitching with fatigue.Mr.Treffry said sadly: "If I can see this through, you can.Get on, my beauties!"As soon as the sun struck through the trees, Mr.Treffry's strength ebbed again.He seemed to suffer greatly; but did not complain.
They had reached the pass at last, and the unchecked sunlight was streaming down with a blinding glare.
"Jump up!" Mr.Treffry cried out."We'll make a finish of it!" and he gave the reins a jerk.The horses flung up their heads, and the bleak pass with its circling crown of jagged peaks soon slipped away.
Between the houses on the very top, they passed at a slow trot; and soon began slanting down the other side.Mr.Treffry brought them to a halt where a mule track joined the road.
"That's all I can do for you; you'd better leave me here," he said.
"Keep this track down to the river--go south--you'll be in Italy in a couple of hours.Get rail at Feltre.Money? Yes? Well!" He held out his hand; Harz gripped it.
"Give her up, eh?"
Harz shook his head.
"No? Then it's 'pull devil, pull baker,' between us.Good-bye, and good luck to you!" And mustering his strength for a last attempt at dignity, Mr.Treffry gathered up the reins.
Harz watched his figure huddled again beneath the hood.The carriage moved slowly away.
XVIII
At Villa Rubein people went about, avoiding each other as if detected in conspiracy.Miss Naylor, who for an inscrutable reason had put on her best frock, a purple, relieved at the chest with bird's-eye blue, conveyed an impression of trying to count a chicken which ran about too fast.When Greta asked what she had lost she was heard to mutter: "Mr.--Needlecase.
Christian, with big circles round her eyes, sat silent at her little table.She had had no sleep.Herr Paul coming into the room about noon gave her a furtive look and went out again; after this he went to his bedroom, took off all his clothes, flung them passionately one by one into a footbath, and got into bed.
"I might be a criminal!" he muttered to himself, while the buttons of his garments rattled on the bath.
"Am I her father? Have I authority? Do I know the world? Bssss! Imight be a frog!"
Mrs.Decie, having caused herself to be announced, found him smoking a cigar, and counting the flies on the ceiling.