The Man Who Kept His Money In A Box | Page 4

edition.

THE MAN WHO KEPT HIS MONEY IN A BOX
by Anthony Trollope

I first saw the man who kept his money in a box in the midst of the
ravine of the Via Mala. I interchanged a few words with him or with his
wife at the hospice, at the top of the Splugen; and I became acquainted
with him in the courtyard of Conradi's hotel at Chiavenna. It was,
however, afterwards at Bellaggio, on the lake of Como, that that
acquaintance ripened into intimacy. A good many years have rolled by
since then, and I believe this little episode in his life may be told
without pain to the feelings of any one.
His name was -; let us for the present say that his name was Greene.
How he learned that my name was Robinson I do not know, but I
remember well that he addressed me by my name at Chiavenna. To go
back, however, for a moment to the Via Mala;--I had been staying for a
few days at the Golden Eagle at Tusis,--which, by-the-bye, I hold to be
the best small inn in all Switzerland, and its hostess to be, or to have
been, certainly the prettiest landlady,--and on the day of my departure
southwards, I had walked on, into the Via Mala, so that the diligence
might pick me up in the gorge. This pass I regard as one of the grandest
spots to which my wandering steps have ever carried me, and though I
had already lingered about it for many hours, I now walked thither
again to take my last farewell of its dark towering rocks, its narrow
causeway and roaring river, trusting to my friend the landlady to see
that my luggage was duly packed upon the diligence. I need hardly say
that my friend did not betray her trust.
As one goes out from Switzerland towards Italy, the road through the
Via Mala ascends somewhat steeply, and passengers by the diligence
may walk from the inn at Tusis into the gorge, and make their way
through the greater part of the ravine before the vehicle will overtake
them. This, however, Mr. Greene with his wife and daughter had
omitted to do. When the diligence passed me in the defile, the horses
trotting for a few yards over some level portion of the road, I saw a
man's nose pressed close against the glass of the coupe window. I saw
more of his nose than of any other part of his face, but yet I could
perceive that his neck was twisted and his eye upturned, and that he
was making a painful effort to look upwards to the summit of the rocks
from his position inside the carriage.
There was such a roar of wind and waters at the spot that it was not

practicable to speak to him, but I beckoned with my finger and then
pointed to the road, indicating that he should have walked. He
understood me, though I did not at the moment understand his
answering gesture. It was subsequently, when I knew somewhat of his
habits, that he explained to me that on pointing to his open mouth, he
had intended to signify that he would be afraid of sore throat in
exposing himself to the air of that damp and narrow passage.
I got up into the conductor's covered seat at the back of the diligence,
and in this position encountered the drifting snow of the Splugen. I
think it is coldest of all the passes. Near the top of the pass the
diligence stops for awhile, and it is here, if I remember, that the
Austrian officials demand the travellers' passports. At least in those
days they did so. These officials have now retreated behind the
Quadrilatere,--soon, as we hope, to make a further retreat,--and the
district belongs to the kingdom of United Italy. There is a place of
refreshment or hospice here, into which we all went for a few moments,
and I then saw that my friend with the weak throat was accompanied by
two ladies.
"You should not have missed the Via Mala," I said to him, as he stood
warming his toes at the huge covered stove.
"We miss everything," said the elder of the two ladies, who, however,
was very much younger than the gentleman, and not very much older
than her companion.
"I saw it beautifully, mamma," said the younger one; whereupon
mamma gave her head a toss, and made up her mind, as I thought, to
take some little vengeance before long upon her step-daughter. I
observed that Miss Greene always called her step-mother mamma on
the first approach of any stranger, so that the nature of the connection
between them might be understood. And I