_Culch._ See? I can _hear_ one singing in my ear at this moment. (_Irritably._) You _would_ open the window! _Podb._ (_sleepily_). Not mosquitoes. I meant HYPATIA, and the--haw--yaw--TROTTERS. _Culch._ How can _I_ tell? (_Second silence._) PODBURY! What did I _tell_ you? One's just bitten me--the _beast_! (_He turns on the light, and slaps about frantically_). I say, I can hear him buzzing all over the place! _Podb._ So can I hear _you_ buzzing. How the dickens is a fellow to get to sleep while you're playing Punch and Judy in there? _Culch._ He's got me on the nose now! There's a lot outside. Just turn off the light, will you? I daren't put my arm out. (_To_ Mosquito.) You brute! (_To_ Podb.) PODBURY, _do_ switch off the light--like a good fellow! _Podb._ (_dreamily_). Glass up, Gondolier ... stifling in this cab ... drive me ... nearest Doge. [_He snores._ _Culch._ Brutal selfishness! (_Turns out the light himself._) Now if I can only get off to sleep while that little beast is quiet-- _Mosquito_ (_ironically, in his ear_). Ping-a-wing-wing! _Same Scene; the next morning._ _Culch._ (_drawing PODBURY's curtains_). Here, wake up, PODBURY--it's just eight. (_PODBURY sits up, and rubs his eyes._) I've had a _horrible_ night, my dear fellow! I'm stung to such an extent! But (_hopefully_) I suppose there's nothing to _show_ particularly, eh? [_Presenting his countenance for inspection._ _Podb._ Not much of your original features, old fellow! (_He roars with laughter._) You've got a pair of cheeks like a raised map! _Culch._ It--it's going _down_. Nothing to what it _was_, half an hour ago! _Podb._ Then I'm jolly glad you didn't call me earlier, that's all! _Culch._ It does feel a little inflamed. I wonder if I could get a little--er--violet powder, or something--? _Podb._ (_with a painful want of sympathy_). Violet powder! Buy a blue veil--a good thick one! _Culch._ What sort of impression _do_ you suppose I should get of Venice with a blue veil on? _Podb._ Can't say--but a pleasanter one than Venice will get of you _without_ it. You don't mean to face the fair Miss TROTTER while you're like _that_, do you? _Culch._ (_with dignity_). Most certainly I _do_. I am much mistaken in Miss TROTTER if she will attach the slightest importance to a mere temporary--er--disfigurement. These swellings never do last long. _Do_ they now? _Podb._ Oh, not more than a month or so, I daresay, if you can keep from touching them. (_He laughs again._) Excuse me, old chap, but I just got you in a new light. Those mosquitoes have paid you out for that pastille--by Jove, they have! _Landing-steps entrance of the Hotel. Nine A.M._ _Culch._ (_coming out a little self-consciously, and finding Mr. TROTTER_). Ah, good morning! What are your--er--impressions of Venice, Mr. TROTTER?