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Page 91
There was a garden with funny little flowers in it which went out of
fashion in America about twenty years ago. There was also a _ch�let_ in
the garden, where we saw at once that we could buy cuckoo clocks and
edelweiss and German lace if we wanted to. There was a big hotel full of
people speaking strange languages--by this time we all sympathised with
Mr. Mafferton in his resentment of foreigners in Continental hotels; as
he said, one expected them to do their travelling in England. There were
the "Laufen" foaming down the valley under the dining room windows,
there were the Swiss waitresses in short petticoats and velvet bodices
and white chemisettes, and at the dinner table, sitting precisely
opposite, there were the Malts. Mr. Malt, Mrs. Malt, Emmeline Malt, and
Miss Callis, not one of them missing. The Malts whom we had left at
Rome, left in the same hotel with Count Filgiatti, and to some purpose
apparently, for seated attentively next to Mrs. Malt there also was
that diminutive nobleman.
As a family we saw at a glance that America was not likely to be the
poorer by one Count in spite of the way we had behaved to him. Miss
Callis, with four thousand dollars a year of her own, was going to offer
them up to sustain the traditions of her country. A Count, if she could
help it, should not go a-begging more than twice. Further impressions
were lost in the shock of greeting, but it recurred to me instantly to
wonder whether Miss Callis had really gone into the question of keeping
a Count on that income, whether she would be able to give him all the
luxuries he had been brought up in anticipation of. It was interesting
to observe the slight embarrassment with which Count Filgiatti
re-encountered his earlier American vision, and his re-assurance when I
gave him the bow of the most travelling of acquaintances. Nothing was
further from my thoughts than interfering. When I considered the number
of engagements upon my hands already, it made me quite faint to
contemplate even an _arrangimento_ in addition to them.
We told the Malts where we had been and they told us where they had been
as well as we could across the table without seeming too confidential,
and after dinner Emmeline led the way to the enclosed verandah which
commanded the Falls. "Come along, ladies and gentlemen," said Emmeline,
"and see the great big old Schaffhausen Fraud. Performance begins at
nine o'clock exactly, and no reserve seats, so unless you want to get
left, Mrs. Portheris, you'd better put a hustle on."
Miss Malt had gone through several processes of annihilation at Mrs.
Portheris's hands, and had always come out of them so much livelier than
ever, that our Aunt Caroline had abandoned her to America some time
previously.
"Emmeline!" exclaimed Mrs. Malt, "you are _too_ personal."
"She ought to be sent to the children's table," Mrs. Portheris remarked
severely.
"Oh, that's all right, Mrs. Portheris. I don't like milk puddings--they
give you a double chin. I expect you've eaten a lot of 'em in your time,
haven't you, Mis' Portheris? Now, Mr. Mafferton, you sit here, and you,
Mis' Wick, you sit _here_. That's right, Mr. Wick, you hold up the wall.
I ain't proud, I'll sit on the floor--there now, we're every one fixed.
No, Mr. Dod, none of us ladies object to smoking--Mis' Portheris smokes
herself, don't you, Mis' Portheris?"
"Emmeline, if you pass another remark to bed you go!" exclaimed her
mother with unction.
"I was fourteen the day before yesterday, and you don't send people of
fourteen to bed. I got a town lot for a birthday present. Oh, there's
the French gentleman! _Bon soir, Monsieur! Comment va-t-il! Attendez!_"
and we were suddenly bereft of Emmeline.
"She's gone to play poker with that man from Marseilles," remarked Mrs.
Malt. "Really, husband, I don't know----"
"You able to put a limit on the game?" asked poppa.
Everybody laughed, and Mr. Malt said that it wasn't possible for
Emmeline to play for money because she never could keep as much as five
francs in her possession, but if she _did_ he'd think it necessary to
warn the man from Marseilles that Miss Malt knew the game.
"And she's perfectly right," continued her father, "in describing this
illumination business as a fraud. I don't say it isn't pretty enough,
but it's a fraud this way, they don't give you any choice about paying
your money for it. Now we didn't start boarding at this hotel, we went
to the one down there on the other side of the river. We were very much
fatigued when we arrived, and every member of our party went straight to
bed. Next day--I always call for my bills daily--what do I find in my
account but '_Illumination de la chute de la Rhin_' one franc apiece."
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