British -- France -- Fiction; Humorous stories; Riviera (France) -- Fiction; Spouses -- Fiction
It must have been this defect of vision that made Ermengarde miss
Herbert, who, she supposed, must surely have found a place at
Victoria, if only in the guard's van or the luggage van in the rear.
For, strain her sight as she would, when the endless moving line of
blue-jerseyed sea-porters passing the train had at last been brought
to a stand-still, no vestige of her brother-in-law was to be found on
the platform, and, during the precious moments wasted in vain search,
every one of these amphibious porters seemed to have been snapped up
and laden with those enormous bags, boxes, and rolls of rugs, that
Continental travellers playfully call hand-baggage.
It had become a question whether Ermengarde or her hand-baggage,
which she was quite incapable of shouldering personally, or both,
should be left behind, when, after wild appeals to various haughty
and inaccessible officials, an aged and morose blue jersey was at
last raked out of some recess, and with difficulty prevailed upon to
hang himself with her various properties. Then, surlily commanding
her to follow him along a quarter of a mile or so of sloppy, narrow
planking, crowded with people hurrying in every direction, to an
invisible and improbable boat, he started off at express speed,
easily making a path for himself through the press by the simple
process of wedging his burdens into the softest parts of people's
ribs and shoulders.
Ermengarde, having no such weapons of offence and defence, not only
failed to make any such path for herself, but suffered sadly from the
assaults of other armed amphibious monsters; and when, after a long
and severe struggle, she arrived, bruised, panting and dishevelled,
at a huge vessel that she hoped was the right one, she found her own
surly amphibian goaded to savagery by waiting to such an extent that
he was only with great difficulty induced to carry his burdens to the
upper deck, where a cloudless sky and a windless sea promised a calm
and exhilarating passage. But there the blue jersey's remnant of
humanity came to an end. Find her a seat or a deck-chair he would
not, for love or money or persuasion; but, hurling his burdens to the
floor, he demanded double the silver she placed in his hand, received
it, and bolted.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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