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 do not disturb you, I hope, Mr Cokane.
COKANE By no means. Our friend Trench has entrusted me with a difficult and delicate task. He has requested me, as a friend of the family, to write to them on a subject that concerns you.
SARTORIUS Indeed, Mr Cokane. Well, the communication could not be in better hands.
COKANE [with an air of modesty] Ah, that is going too far, my dear sir, too far. Still, you see what Trench is. A capital fellow in his way, Mr Sartorius, an excellent young fellow. But family communications like these require good manners. They require tact; and tact is Trench’s weak point. He has an excellent heart, but no tact — none whatever. Everything depends on the way the matter is put to Lady Roxdale. But as to that, you may rely on me. I understand the sex.
SARTORIUS Well, however she may receive it and I care as little as any man, Mr Cokane, how people may choose to receive me, I trust I may at least have the pleasure of seeing you sometimes at my house when we return to England.
COKANE [overwhelmed] My dear sir! You express yourself in the true spirit of an English gentleman.
SARTORIUS Not at all. You will always be most welcome. But I fear I have disturbed you in the composition of your letter. Pray resume it. I shall leave you to yourself. [He pretends to rise, but checks himself to add:] Unless indeed I can assist you in any way? By clearing up any point on which you are not informed, for instance; or even, if I may so far presume on my years, giving you the benefit of my experience as to the best way of wording the matter. [Cokane looks a little surprised at this. Sartorius looks hard at him, and continues deliberately and meaningly:] I shall always be happy to help any friend of Dr Trench’s, in any way, to the best of my ability and of my means.
COKANE My dear sir : you are really very good. Trench and I were putting our heads together over the letter just now; and there certainly were one or two points on which we were a little in the dark. [Scrupulously] But I would not permit Harry to question you. No. I pointed out to him that, as a matter of taste, it would be more delicate to wait until you volunteered the necessary information.
SARTORIUS Hm! May I ask what you have said, so far?
COKANE “My dear Aunt Maria.” That is, Trench’s dear Aunt Maria, my friend Lady Roxdale. You understand that I am only drafting a letter for Trench to copy.
SARTORIUS Quite so. Will you proceed; or would it help you if I were to suggest a word or two?
COKANE [effusively] Your suggestions will be most valuable, my dear sir, most welcome.
‘SARTORIUS I think I should begin in some such way as this: “In travelling with my friend Mr Cokane up the Rhine—”
COKANE [murmuring as he -writes] Invaluable, invaluable. The very thing. “ — my friend Mr Cokane up the Rhine—”
SARTORIUS “I have made the acquaintance of” or you may say “picked up,” or “come across,” if you think that would suit your friend’s style better. We must not be too formal.
COKANE “ Picked up “! oh no : too dégagé, Mr Sartorius, too dégagé. I should say “had the privilege of becoming acquainted with—”
SARTORIUS [quickly] By no means: Lady Roxdale must judge of that for herself. Let it stand as I said. “I have made the acquaintance of a young lady, the daughter of—” [He hesitates]
COKANE [writing] “ — acquaintance of a young lady, the daughter of—” yes?
