At one time or another there have been a number of exquisite yachts built to satisfy the extravagances of millionaires, but never one so perfect in every detail, and so replete with every luxury, as Browne's Lotus Blossom. The state-rooms were large and airy; beds occupied the places of the usual uncomfortable bunks; the dining-saloon was situated amidships, where the vibration of the screw was least felt; the drawing-room was arranged aft; and a dainty boudoir for the ladies extended across the whole width of the counter. The smoking-room was in a convenient position under the bridge, and the bathrooms, four in number, were luxury and completeness itself. Add to the other advantages the presence of Felicien, that prince of chefs, and little Georges, once so intimately connected with the English Embassy in Paris, and it is unnecessary to say more.
Browne himself was an excellent host; and by the time the Norwegian coast had been sighted the party had settled down comfortably on board. They visited Christiania, the Bukn, Hardanger, and Sogne, and eventually found themselves at anchor in the harbour of Merok, on the Gieranger Fjord. It is in this lovely bay, overshadowed by its precipitous mountains, that my story may be properly said to commence.
It is sometimes asserted by a class of people who talk of the Eiffel Tower as if it were a bit of natural scenery, and of the Matterhorn as though it were placed in its present position simply for the entertainment of Cook's tourists, that when you have seen one Norwegian fjord you have seen them all. But this statement is, as are the majority of such assertions, open to contradiction. The Ryfylke bears no sort of resemblance, save that they are both incomparably grand, to the Hardanger, or the Fjaerlands to the Gieranger. There is, of course, the same solemnity and the same overwhelming sense of man's insignificance about them all. But in every other essential they differ as completely as Windermere does from the Bitter Lakes of Suez – shall we say? – or the Marble Arch from the Bridge of Sighs.
"Knowing what we know, and seeing what we see," Maas remarked confidentially to the Duchess of Matlock as they sat in their chairs on deck, gazing up at the snow-capped mountains at the head of the fjord, "one is tempted to believe that Providence, in designing Europe, laid it out with the express intention of pleasing the British tourist."
"I detest tourists," replied her Grace, as she disentangled the straps of her field-glasses. "They cheapen everything, and think nothing of discussing their hotel bills in the Temple of the Sphinx, or of comparing and grumbling at their dhobie's accounts under the façade of the Taj Mahal."
"The inevitable result of a hothouse education, my dear Duchess," said Jimmy Foote, who was leaning against the bulwarks. "Believe a poor man who knows, it is just those three annas overcharge in a dhobie's bill that spoil the grandeur of the Sphinx and cast a blight over the Great Pyramid; as far as I am personally concerned, such an imposition would spoil even the Moti Masjid itself."
"People who quarrel over a few annas have no right to travel," remarked Mrs. Dobson, with the authority of a woman who rejoices in the possession of a large income.
"In that case, one trembles to think what would become of the greater portion of mankind," continued Miss Verney, who was drawing on her gloves preparatory to going ashore.
"If that were the law, I am afraid I should never get beyond the white walls of Old England," said Jimmy Foote, shaking his head; "it is only by keeping a sharp eye on the three annas of which we have been speaking that I manage to exist at all. If I might make a suggestion to the powers that be, it would be to the effect that a university should be founded in some convenient centre – Vienna, for instance. It would be properly endowed, and students might be sent to it from all parts of the world. Competent professors would be engaged, who would teach the pupils how to comport themselves in railway trains and on board steamboats; who would tell them how to dress themselves to suit different countries, in order that they might not spoil choice bits of scenery by inartistic colouring. Above all, I would have them instructed in the proper manner of placing their boots outside their bedroom doors when they retire to rest in foreign hotels. I remember a ruffian in Paris some years ago (truth compels me to put it on record that he was a countryman of yours, Mr. Dobson) who for three weeks regularly disturbed my beauty sleep by throwing his boots outside his door in the fashion to which I am alluding. It's my belief he used to stand in the centre of his room and pitch them into the corridor, taking particular care that they should fall exactly above my head."
"It seems to me that I also have met that man," observed Maas quietly, lighting another cigarette as he spoke. "He travels a great deal."
"Surely it could not be the same man?" remarked Mrs. Dobson, with an incredulous air. "The coincidence would be too extraordinary." A smile went round the group; for an appreciation of humour was not the lady's strong point.
"To continue my proposal," said Foote, with quiet enjoyment. "In addition to imparting instruction on the subjects I have mentioned, I would have my pupils thoroughly grounded in the languages of the various countries they intend visiting, so that they should not inquire the French for Eau de Cologne, or ask what sort of vegetable pâté de foie gras is when they encountered it upon their menus. A proper appreciation of the beautiful in art might follow, in order to permit of their being able to distinguish between a Sandro Botticelli and a 'Seaport at Sunrise' by Claude Lorraine."
"A professor who could give instruction upon the intricacies of a Continental wine list might be added with advantage," put in Barrington-Marsh.
"And the inevitable result," said Browne, who had joined the party while Marsh was speaking, "would be that you might as well not travel at all. Build an enormous restaurant in London, and devote a portion of it to every country into which modern man takes himself. Hang the walls with tricky, theatrical canvases after the fashion of a cyclorama; dress your waiters in appropriate costumes, let them speak the language of the country in which you are supposed to be dining, let the tables be placed in the centre of the hall, have a band to discourse national airs, and you would be able to bore yourself to death in comfort, for the simple reason that every one would talk, eat, drink, and behave just as respectably as his neighbour. Half the fun of moving about the world, as I understand it, lies in the studies of character presented by one's fellow-creatures. But, see, the boat is alongside; let us go ashore while it is fine."
Beautiful as Merok undoubtedly is, it must be admitted that its amusements are, to say the least of it, limited. You can lunch at the hotel, explore the curious little octagonal church, and, if you are a walker, climb the road that crosses the mountains to Grotlid. The views, however, are sublime, for the mountains rise on every hand, giving the little bay the appearance of an amphitheatre.
"What programme have you mapped out for us?" inquired Miss Verney, who, as was known to her companions, preferred an easy-chair and a flirtation on the deck of the yacht to any sort of athletic exercise ashore.
Browne thereupon explained that the Duchess, who was dressed in appropriate walking costume, had arranged everything. They were to visit the church, do the regulation sights, and, finally, make their way up the hillside to the Storfos Waterfall, which is the principal, and almost the only, attraction the village has to offer. The usual order of march was observed. The Duchess and the Ambassador, being the seniors of the party, led the way; the lady's two daughters, escorted by Barrington-Marsh and Jimmy Foote – who was too obvious a detrimental to be worth guarding against – came next; Maas, Mrs. and Miss Dobson followed close behind them; Miss Verney and Browne brought up the rear.
Everything went merrily as a marriage bell. After those who had brought their cameras had snap-shotted the church, and made the usual mistake with regard to the angles, the party climbed the hill in the direction of the waterfall. It was only when they reached it that those in front noticed that Miss Verney had joined the trio next before her, and that Browne had disappeared. He had gone back to the boat, the lady explained, in order to give some instructions that had been forgotten. From her silence, however, and from the expression of annoyance upon her beautiful lace, the others immediately jumped to the conclusion that something more serious must have happened than her words implied. In this case, however, popular opinion was altogether at fault. As a matter of fact, Browne's reason for leaving his guests to pursue their walk alone was an eminently simple one. He strolled down to the boat which