The German Porter (a stately person in a gold-laced uniform and a white waistcoat, escaping from importunate visitors).  In von momendt, Matam, I attend to you.  You want a larcher roum, Sare?  You address ze manager, blease.  Your dronks, Laties?  I haf zem brod down, yes.

A Lady.  Oh, Porter, we want a gondola this afternoon to go to the Lido, and do try if you can get us BEPPO—­that nice gondolier, you know, we had yesterday!

The Porter.  Ach!  I do nod know any nah-ice gondolier—­zey are oal—­I dell you, if you lif viz zem ade mons as me, you cot your troat—­yes!

Another Lady.  Porter, can you tell me the name of the song that man is singing in the barge there?

Porter.  I gannot dell you ze name—­pecause zey sing always ze same ting!

A Helpless Man in knickerbockers (drifting in at the door).  Here, I say.  We engaged rooms here by telegram from Florence.  What am I to give these fellows from the station? Combien, you know!

Porter.  You gif zem two franc—­and zen zey vill gromble.  You haf engage roums? yes.  Zat vill pe oal rahit—­Your loggage in ze gondola, yes?  I haf it taken op.

The H.M. No, it’s left behind at Bologna.  My friend’s gone back for it.  And I say, think it will turn up all right?

Porter.  Eef you register it, and your vrient is zere, you ged it—­yes.

The H.M. Yes, but look here, don’t you know?  Oughtn’t I to make a row—­a fuss—­about it, or something, eh?

Porter (moving off with subdued contempt).  Oh, you can make a foss, yes, if you like—­you ged nossing!

Culch. and Podb. (stopping him simultaneously).  I say, I want my luggage brought down from No. ——­ in time for the twelve o’clock—­(To each other.) Hallo! are you off too?

Culch. (confused).  Er—­yes—­thought I might as well be getting back.

Podb. Then I—­I suppose it’s all settled—­with Miss T.—­you know—­eh?

Culch. Fortunately—­yes.  And—­er—­your engagement happily concluded?

Podb. Well, it’s concluded, anyway.  It’s all off, you know.  I—­I wasn’t artistic enough for her.

Culch. She has refused you?  My dear PODBURY, I’m really delighted to hear this—­at least, that is—­

Podb. Oh, don’t mind me.  I’m getting over it.  But I must congratulate you on better luck.

Culch. On precisely similar luck.  Miss TROTTER and I—­er—­arrived at the conclusion last night that we were not formed to make each other’s happiness.

Podb. Did you, by Jove?  Porter, I say, never mind about that luggage.  Do you happen to know if Mr. and Miss TROTTER—­the American gentleman and his daughter—­are down yet?