My Friend the Chauffeur
head like many separate rows of black pins, overlapping one another.
"We shall save time by getting your car out of the ditch, anyhow,"
suggested Terry; and putting our shoulders to it, all four, we succeeded
after strenuous efforts in pushing and hauling the huge beast onto the
road. I had had no idea that anything less in size than a railway engine
could be so heavy.
There was no question but that the giant was helpless. Terry and Joseph
peered into its inner workings, and the first verdict was confirmed.
"There's an imperfection in the metal," said expert Terry. In his place,
I fear I should not have been capable of such magnanimity. I should have
let the whole blame rest upon my rival's reckless stupidity as a driver.
"It's plain you can do nothing with your car in that condition," he went
on. "After all" (even Terry's generous spirit couldn't resist this one
little dig), "it would have been well if I'd brought that coil of rope."
"Coil of rope? For what purpose?"
"To tow you to the nearest blacksmith's, where perhaps a new lever could
be forged."
"This is not a time for joking. Twelve horses cannot drag twenty-four."
"They're plucky and willing. Shall they try? Here comes a cart, whose
driver is wreathed in smiles. Labour exulting in the downfall of
Capitol. But Labour looks good-natured." "Good morning," Terry hailed him
in Italian. "Will you lend me a stout cord to tow this automobile?"
The Prince was silent. Even in his rage against Fate, against Joseph,
and against us, he retained enough common sense to remember that 'tis
well to choose the lesser of two evils.
The carter had a rope, and an obliging disposition. A few francs changed
hands, and the Hare was yoked to the Tortoise. Yoked, figuratively
speaking only, for it trailed ignominiously behind at a distance of
fifteen yards, and when our little Panhard began bumbling up the hill
with its great follower, it resembled nothing so much as a very small
comet with a disproportionately big tail.
The motor, in starting, forged gallantly ahead for a yard or two, then,
as it felt the unexpected weight dragging behind, it appeared surprised.
It was, indeed, literally "taken aback" for an instant, but only for an
instant. The brave little beast seemed to say to itself, "Well, they
expect a good deal of me, but there are ladies on board, and I won't
disappoint them."
"Felicite," I murmured. "She might have stood sponser to this car."
With another tug we began to make progress, slow but steady. Joseph, as
the lighter weight, sat in his master's car, his hand on the
steering-wheel, while the Prince tramped gloomily behind in the mud.
Seeing how well the experiment was succeeding, however, he quickened his
pace and ordered the chauffeur down. "I do not think that the difference
in weight will be noticeable," he said, and as Joseph obediently jumped
out the Prince sprang in, taking the wheel. Instantly the rope snapped,
and the big red chariot would have run back had not Joseph jammed on the
brake.
Terry stopped our car, and the ill-matched pair had to be united again,
with a shorter rope. "Afraid you'll have to walk, Prince," said he, when
he had finished helping Joseph, who was apparently on the brink of
tears.
Dalmar-Kalm measured me with a glance. "Perhaps Sir Ralph would not
object to steering my car?" he suggested. "Then Joseph could walk, and I
could have Sir Ralph's place in the tonneau with the ladies, where a
little extra weight would do no harm. Would that not be an excellent
arrangement?"
"David left Goliath on the ground, and dragged away only his head," I
remarked. "_We_ are dragging Goliath; and I fear his head would be the
last--er--feather. So sorry. Otherwise we should be delighted."
What the Prince said as the procession began to move slowly up-hill
again, at a pace to keep time with the "Dead March in Saul," I don't
pretend to know, but if his remarks matched his expression, I would not
in any case have recorded them here.
VI
A CHAPTER OF PREDICAMENTS
On we went, and twilight was falling in this deep gorge, so evidently
cut by the river for its own convenience, not for that of belated
tourists. Here and there in the valley little rock towns stood up
impressively, round and high on their eminences, like brown, stemless
mushrooms. Each little group of ancient dwellings resembled to my mind a
determined band of men standing back to back, shoulder to shoulder,
defending their hearths and homes from the Saracens, and saying grimly,
"Come on if you dare. We'll fight to the death, one and all of us."
At last, without further mishap, we arrived at a mean village marked
Airole on Terry's map. It was a poverty-stricken place, through which,
in happier circumstances, we should have passed without a glance,
but--there, by the roadside was a blacksmith's forge, more welcome to
our eyes than a castle double-starred by Baedeker.
Joseph's spleen reduced by the sight of his master tramping in the mud
while he steered, the little chauffeur looked almost cheerful. He
promised to have a new lever ready in half an hour, and so confident was
he that he urged us to go on. But the Prince did not echo the
suggestion, and Mrs. Kidder proposed that we should have tea while we
waited.
Though it was she who gave birth to the idea, it would have been Miss
Destrey who did all the work, had not Terry and I offered such help as
men can give. He went in search of water to fill the shining kettle; I
handed round biscuits and cakes, while the Prince looked on in the
attitude of Napoleon watching the burning of Moscow.
We were as good as a circus to the inhabitants of Airole; nay, better,
for our antics could be seen gratis. The entire population of the
village, and apparently of several adjacent villages, collected round
the two cars. They made the ring, and--we did the rest. We ate, we
drank, and they were merry at our expense. The children wished also to
eat at our expense, and when I translated (with amendments) a flattering
comment on Mrs. Kidder's hair and complexion offered by an incipient Don
Juan of five years, she insisted that all the spare pastry should be
distributed among the juveniles. The division led to blows, and tears
which had to be quenched with coppers; while into the melee broke a
desolate cry from Joseph, announcing that his lever was a failure. The
Prince strode off to the blacksmith's shop, forgetful that he held a
teacup in one hand and an _eclair_ in the other. With custard dropping
onto the red-hot bar which Joseph hammered, he looked so forlorn a
figure that Terry was moved to pity and joined the group at the forge.
He soon discovered what Joseph might have known from the first, had he
not lived solely in the moment, like most other chauffeurs. The village
forge was not _assez bien outillee_ for a finished lever to be produced;
the Prince's car must remain a derelict, unless we towed it into port.
We started on again, in the same order as before and at the same pace,
followed by all our village _proteges_, who commented frankly upon the
plight of the Prince, and the personal appearance of the whole party. At
length, however, our moving audience dwindled. A mile or two beyond
Airole the last, most enterprising boy deserted us, and we thought
ourselves alone in a twilight world. The white face of the moon peered
through a cleft in the mountain, and our own shadows crawled after us,
large and dark on the grey ribbon of the road. But there was another
shadow which moved, a small drifting shadow over which we had no
control. Sometimes it was by our side for an instant as we crept up the
hill, dragging our incubus, then it would fall behind and vanish, only
to reappear again, perhaps on the other side of the road.
"What _is_ that tiny black thing that comes and goes?" asked Mrs.
Kidder.
"Why," exclaimed Miss Destrey, "I do believe it's that forlorn little
dog that was too timid to eat from my hand in the village. He must have
followed all this time."
"Do see if it is the same dog, Prince," Beechy cried to the tall, dark
figure completing the tail of our procession.
A yelp answered. "Yes, it is he," called the Prince. "A mangy little
mongrel. I do not think he will trouble us any longer."
Then a surprising thing happened. The Vestal Virgin rose suddenly in the
car. "You have _kicked_ him!" she exclaimed, the gentleness burnt out of
her pretty voice by a swift flame of anger. "Stop the car, Mr.
Barrymore--quickly, please. I want to get down."
Never had that Panhard of Terry's checked its career in less space. Out
jumped Maida, to my astonishment without a word of objection from her
relatives. "I will not have that poor, timid little creature frightened
and hurt," I heard her protesting as she ran back. "How _could_ you,
Prince!"
Now, though the girl was probably no more than a paid companion, she was
lovely enough to make her good opinion of importance to the most
inveterate fortune hunter, and as Miss Destrey called, "Here, doggie,
doggie," in a voice to beguile a rhinoceros, Dalmar-Kalm pleaded that
what he had done had been but for the animal's good. He had not injured
the dog, he had merely encouraged it to run home before it was
hopelessly lost. "I am not cruel, I assure you. My worst troubles have
come from a warm heart. I hope you will believe me, Miss Destrey."
"I should be sorry to be your dog, or--your chauffeur," she answered.
"He won't come back to be comforted, so I suppose after all we shall
have to go on. But I shall dream of that poor little lonely, drifting
thing to-night."
Hardly had she taken her seat, however, than there was the dog close to
the car, timid, obsequious, winning, with his wisp of a head cocked on
one side. We drove on, and he followed pertinaciously. Mildly adjured by
the Countess to "go home, little dog," he came on the faster. Many
adventures he had, such as a fall over a heap of stones and entanglement
in a thorn-bush. But nothing discouraged the miniature motor maniac in
the pursuit of his love, and we began to take him for granted so
completely that after a while I, at least, forgot him. On we toiled with
our burden, the moon showering silver into the dark mountain gorges, as
if it were raining stars.
The further we burrowed into the fastnesses of the Roya, the more wild
in its majestic beauty grew the valley, so famed in history and legend.
The gorge had again become a mere gash in the rock, with room only for
the road and the roaring river below. High overhead, standing up against
the sky like a warning finger, towered the ancient stronghold of Piena,
once guardian fortress of the valley; where the way curved, and crossed
a high bridge spanning the torrent, we passed a tablet of gleaming
bronze set against the rock wall, in commemoration of Massena's victory
in an early campaign of Napoleon's against Italy. Sometimes we rushed
through tunnels, where the noise of the motor vibrated thunderously;
sometimes we looked down over sublime precipices; but the road was
always good now, and we had no longer to fear side-slip.
We met no one; nevertheless Terry got down and lit our lamps,
Dalmar-Kalm making an unnecessary delay by insisting that Joseph should
light his too. This was sheer vanity on the Prince's part. He could not
bear to have his great Bleriots dark, while our humbler acetylene
illumined the way for His Mightiness.
Suddenly we ran out of the bewildering lights and shadows, woven across
our way by the moon, into the lights of a town; and two _douaniers_
appeared in the road, holding up their hands for us to stop. Down jumped
Terry to see why he should be challenged in this unexpected place, and
the Prince joined him.
"Your papers, if you please," demanded the official.