thomasina: Oh . .. yes. Newton's equations go forwards and backwards, they do not care which way. But the heat equation cares very much, it goes only one way. That is the reason Mr Noakes's engine cannot give the power to drive Mr Noakes's engine.
Septimus: Everybody knows that.
thomasina: Yes, Septimus, they know it about engines!
SEPTIMUS: (Pause. He looks at his watch.) A quarter to twelve. For your essay this week, explicate your diagram.
thomasina: I cannot. I do not know the mathematics.
Septimus: Without mathematics, then.
(thomasina has continued to draw. She tears the top page from her drawing pad and gives it to SEPTIMUS.)
thomasina: There. I have made a drawing of you and Plautus.
SEPTIMUS: (Looking at it) Excellent likeness. Not so good of me. (thomasina laughs, and leaves the room. AUGUSTUS appears at the garden door. His manner cautious and diffident. SEPTIMUS does not notice him for a moment. SEPTIMUS gathers his papers together.)
Augustus: Sir .. .
Septimus: My lord . . . ?
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AUGUSTUS: I gave you offence, sir, and I am sorry for it. Septimus: I took none, my lord, but you are kind to mention it. Augustus: I would like to ask you a question, Mr Hodge.
(Pause.) You have an elder brother, I dare say, being a
Septimus? Septimus: Yes, my lord. He lives in London. He is the editor of
a newspaper, the Piccadilly Recreation. (Pause.) Was that
your question?
(AUGUSTUS, evidently embarrassed about something, picks up
the drawing of Septimus.) Augustus: No. Oh ... it is you? ... I would like to keep it.
(Septimus inclines his head in assent.) There are things a
fellow cannot ask his friends. Carnal things. My sister has
told me ... my sister believes such things as I cannot, I
assure you, bring myself to repeat. Septimus: You must not repeat them, then. The walk between
here and dinner will suffice to put us straight, if we stroll by
the garden. It is an easy business. And then I must rely on
you to correct your sister's state of ignorance.
(A commotion is heard outside - Bernard's loud voice in a sort
of agony.) Bernard: (outside the door) Oh no - no - no - oh, bloody hell! -Augustus: Thank you, Mr Hodge, I will.
(Taking the drawing with him, Augustus allows himself to be
shown out through the garden door, and SEPTIMUS follows him.
BERNARD enters the room, through the door HANNAH left by. VALENTINE comes in with him, leaving the door open and they are followed by HANNAH who is holding the 'garden book'.)
Bernard: Oh, no - no -
hannah: I'm sorry, Bernard.
Bernard: Fucked by a dahlia! Do you think? Is it open and shut? Am I fucked? What does it really amount to? When all's said and done? Am I fucked? What do you think, Valentine? Tell me the truth.
valentine: You're fucked.
Bernard: Oh God! Does it mean that?
hannah: Yes, Bernard, it does.
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Bernard: I'm not sure. Show me where it says. I want to see it. No - read it - no, wait. . .
(Bernard sits at the table. He prepares to listen as though listening were an oriental art.) Right.
HANNAH: (Reading) 'October ist, 1810. Today under the direction of Mr Noakes, a parterre was dug on the south lawn and will be a handsome show next year, a consolation for the picturesque catastrophe of the second and third distances. The dahlia having propagated under glass with no ill effect from the sea voyage, is named by Captain Brice 'Charity' for his bride, though the honour properly belongs to the husband who exchanged beds with my dahlia, and an English summer for everlasting night in the Indies.' (Pause.)
Bernard: Well it's so round the houses, isn't it? Who's to say what it means?
hannah: (Patiently) It means that Ezra Chater of the Sidley Park connection is the same Chater who described a dwarf dahlia in Martinique in 1810 and died there, of a monkey bite.
Bernard: (Wildly) Ezra wasn't a botanist! He was a poet!
hannah: He was not much of either, but he was both.
valentine: It's not a disaster.
Bernard: Of course it's a disaster! I was on 'The Breakfast Hour'!
valentine: It doesn't mean Byron didn't fight a duel, it only means Chater wasn't killed in it.
BERNARD: Oh, pull yourself together! - do you think I'd have been on 'The Breakfast Hour' if Byron had missedl
hannah: Calm down, Bernard. Valentine's right.
BERNARD: (Grasping at straws) Do you think so? You mean the Piccadilly reviews? Yes, two completely unknown Byron essays - and my discovery of the lines he added to 'English Bards'. That counts for something.
hannah: (Tactfully) Very possible - persuasive, indeed.
Bernard: Oh, bugger persuasive! I've proved Byron was here and as far as I'm concerned he wrote those lines as sure as he shot that hare. If only I hadn't somehow . . . made it all
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about killing Chater. Why didn't you stop me?! It's bound to
get out, you know -1 mean this - this gloss on my discovery -
I mean how long do you think it'll be before some botanical
pedant blows the whistle on me? HANNAH: The day after tomorrow. A letter in The Times, Bernard: You wouldn't. HANNAH: It's a dirty job but somebody -Bernard: Darling. Sorry. Hannah-hannah: - and, after all, it is my discovery. Bernard: Hannah. hannah: Bernard. Bernard: Hannah. hannah: Oh, shut up. It'll be very short, very dry, absolutely
gloat-free. Would you rather it were one of your friends? Bernard: (Fervently) Oh God, no! hannah: And then inyour letter to The Times-Bernard: Mine? hannah: Well, of course. Dignified congratulations to a
colleague, in the language of scholars, I trust. Bernard: Oh, eat shit, you mean? hannah: Think of it as a breakthrough in dahlia studies.
(CHLOfi hurries in from the garden.) chloE: Why aren't you coming?! - Bernard! And you're not
dressed! How long have you been back?
(Bernard looks at her and then at valentine and realizes for
the first time that valentine is unusually dressed.) Bernard: Why are you wearing those clothes? chloE: Do be quick!
(She is already digging into the basket and producing odd
garments for BERNARD.)
Just put anything on. We're all being photographed. Except
Hannah. hannah: I'll come and watch.
(valentine and chloE help Bernard into a decorative coat
and fix a lace collar round his neck.) chloE: (To hannah) Mummy says have you got the theodolite? valentine: What are you supposed to be, Chlo? Bo-Peep? chloE: Jane Austen!
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valentine: Of course.
HANNAH: {To CHLOfi) Oh - it's in the hermitage! Sorry. Bernard: I thought it wasn't till this evening. What photograph? chloE: The local paper of course - they always come before we
