SARTORIUS Gently, Dr Trench, gently. Such a transaction as this cannot be settled offhand.
TRENCH Not offhand, no. There are settlements and things, of course. But it may be regarded as settled between ourselves, maynt it?
‘SARTORIUS Hm! Have you nothing further to mention?
TRENCH Only that, that-No: I dont know that I have, except that I love —
SARTORIUS [interrupting] Anything about your family, for example? You do not anticipate any objection on their part, do you?
TRENCH Oh, they have nothing to do with it.
SARTORIUS [warmly] Excuse me, sir: They have a great deal to do with it. [Trench is abashed] I am resolved that my daughter shall approach no circle in which she will not be received with the full consideration to which her education and her breeding — [here his selfcontrol slips a little; and he repeats, as if Trench had contradicted him] — I say, her breeding entitle her.
TRENCH {bewildered] Of course not. But what makes you think my family wont like Blanche? Of course my father was a younger son; and Ive had to take to a profession and all that; so my people wont expect us to entertain them: Theyll know we cant afford it. But theyll entertain us: They always ask me.
SARTORIUS That wont do for me, sir. Families often think it due to themselves to turn their backs on newcomers whom they may not think quite good enough for them.
TRENCH But I assure you my people arnt a bit snobbish. Blanche is a lady: thatll be good enough for them.
SARTORIUS [moved] I am glad you think so. [He offers his hand. Trench, astonished, takes it] I think so myself. [He presses Trenctis hand gratefully and releases it.] And now, Dr Trench, since you have acted handsomely, you shall have no cause to complain of me. There shall be no difficulty about money: You shall entertain as much as you please: I will guarantee all that. But I must have a guarantee on my side that she will be received on equal terms by your family.
TRENCH Guarantee!
SARTORIUS Yes, a reasonable guarantee. I shall expect you to write to your relatives explaining your intention, and adding what you think proper as to my daughter’s fitness for the best society. When you can shew me a few letters from the principal members of your family, congratulating you in a fairly cordial way, I shall be satisfied. Can I say more?
TRENCH [much puzzled, but grateful] No indeed. You are really very good. Many thanks. Since you wish it, I’ll write to my people. But I assure you youll find them as jolly as possible over it. I’ll make them write by return.
SARTORIUS Thank you. In the meantime, I must ask you not to regard the matter as settled.
TRENCH Oh! Not to regard the-I see. You mean between Blanche and —
SARTORIUS I mean between you and Miss Sartorius. When I interrupted your conversation here some time ago, you and she were evidently regarding it as settled. In case difficulties arise, and the match — you see I call it a match — be broken off, I should not wish Blanche to think that she had allowed a gentleman to, to- [Trench nods sympathetically] Quite so. May I depend on you to keep a fair distance, and so spare me the necessity of having to restrain an intercourse which promises to be very pleasant to us all?
TRENCH Certainly; since you prefer it. [They shake hands on it.]
SARTORIUS [rising] You will write to-day, I think you said?
TRENCH [eagerly] I’ll write now, before I leave here, straight off.
SARTORIUS I will leave you to yourself then. [He hesitates, the conversation having made him self-conscious and embarrassed; then recovers himself with an effort and adds with dignity, as he turns to go] I am pleased to have come to an understanding with you. [He goes into the hotel and Cokane, who has been hanging about inquisitively , emerges from the shrubbery.]
TRENCH [excitedly] Billy, old chap: youre just in time to do me a favour. I want you to draft a letter for me to copy out.
COKANE I came with you on this tour as a friend, Trench: not as a secretary.
TRENCH Well, youll write as a friend. It’s to my Aunt Maria, about Blanche and me. To tell her, you know.
COKANE Tell her about Blanche and you! Tell her about your conduct! Betray you, my friend; and forget that I am writing to a lady? Never!
TRENCH Bosh, Billy: dont pretend you dont understand. We’re engaged engaged, my boy: What do you think of that? I must write by tonight’s post. You are the man to tell me what to say. Come, old chap [coaxing him to sit down at one of the tables]: Here’s a pencil. Have you a bit of oh, here: This’ll do: Write it on the back of the map. [He tears the map out of his Baedeker and spreads it face downwards on the table. Cokane takes the pencil and prepares to write] Thats right. Thanks awfully, old chap! Now fire away. [Anxiously] Be careful how you word it, though, Cokane.
COKANE [putting down the pencil] If you doubt my ability to express myself becomingly to Lady Roxdale —
TRENCH [propitiating him] All right, old fellow, all right: theres not a man alive who could do it half so well as you. I only wanted to explain. You see, Sartorius has got it into his head, somehow, that my people will snub Blanche; and he wont consent unless they send letters and invitations and congratulations and the deuce knows what not. So just put it in such a way that Aunt Maria will write by return saying she is delighted, and asking us — Blanche and me — you know, to stay with her, and so forth. You know what I mean. Just tell her all about it in a chatty way; and —
COKANE [crushingly] If you will tell me all about it in a chatty way, I daresay I can communicate it to Lady Roxdale with proper delicacy. What is Sartorius?
TRENCH [taken aback] I dont know: I didnt ask. It’s a sort of question you cant very well put to a man at least a man like him. Do you think you could word the letter so as to pass all that over? I really dont like to ask him.
COKANE I can pass it over if you wish. Nothing easier. But if you think Lady Roxdale will pass it over, I differ from you. I may be wrong: No doubt I am. I generally am wrong, I believe; but that is my opinion.
TRENCH [much perplexed] Oh, confound it! What the deuce am I to do? Cant you say he’s a gentleman: That wont commit us to anything. If you dwell on his being well off, and Blanche an only child, Aunt Maria will be satisfied.
COKANE Henry Trench: when will you begin to get a little sense? This is a serious business. Act responsibly, Harry: Act responsibly.
TRENCH Bosh! Dont be moral!
COKANE I am not moral, Trench. At least I am not a moralist: that is the expression I should have used moral, but not a moralist. If you are going to get money with your wife, doesnt it concern your family to know how that money was made? Doesnt it concern you, Harry? [Trench looks at him helplessly, twisting his fngers nervously. Cokane throws down the pencil and leans back with ostentatious indifference.] Of course it is no business of mine: I only throw out the suggestion. Sartorius may be a retired burglar for all I know. [Sartorius and Blanche, ready for dinner, come from the hotel.]
TRENCH Sh! Here they come. Get the letter finished before dinner, like a good old chappie : I shall be awfully obliged to you.
COKANE [impatiently] Leave me, leave me: You disturb me. [He waves him off and begins to write.]
TRENCH [humbfy and gratefully] Yes, old chap. Thanks awfully.
[By this time Blanche has left her father and is strolling off towards the riverside. Sartorius comes down the garden, Baedeker in hand, and sits near Cokane, reading. Trench addresses him.]’ You wont mind my taking Blanche in to dinner, I hope, sir?
SARTORIUS By all means, Dr Trench. Pray do so. [He graciously waves him off to join Blanche. Trench hurries after her through the gate. The light reddens as the Rhenish sunset begins. Cokane, making wry faces in the agonies of composition, is disconcerted to find Sartorius’ eye upon him.]
SARTORIUS I