diff options
| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:21:55 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:21:55 -0700 |
| commit | 640047c86a5846b9cfa1638cc77ea1544b2140f3 (patch) | |
| tree | 18c1f849e9be996866ec240345200efee4811af6 | |
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 3 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 3618-0.txt | 4283 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 3618-h/3618-h.htm | 5899 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 3618-h/images/cover.jpg | bin | 0 -> 295867 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/2015-06-15_3618-h.zip | bin | 0 -> 65422 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/2015-06-15_3618.zip | bin | 0 -> 63211 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/3618-h.htm | 5550 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/3618.txt | 3880 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/3618.zip | bin | 0 -> 63262 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/rmsmn10.txt | 3898 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/rmsmn10.zip | bin | 0 -> 62047 bytes |
13 files changed, 23526 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/3618-0.txt b/3618-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ef05718 --- /dev/null +++ b/3618-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4283 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of Arms and the Man, by George Bernard Shaw + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you +will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before +using this eBook. + +Title: Arms and the Man + +Author: George Bernard Shaw + +Release Date: June 17, 2001 [eBook #3618] +[Most recently updated: December 1, 2023] + +Language: English + +Produced by: Jim Tinsley with help from the distributed proofreaders + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ARMS AND THE MAN *** + + + + +[Illustration] + + + + +Arms and the Man + +A Pleasant Play + +by George Bernard Shaw + +Contents + + INTRODUCTION + ARMS AND THE MAN + ACT I + ACT II + ACT III + + + + +INTRODUCTION + + +To the irreverent—and which of us will claim entire exemption from that +comfortable classification?—there is something very amusing in the +attitude of the orthodox criticism toward Bernard Shaw. He so obviously +disregards all the canons and unities and other things which every +well-bred dramatist is bound to respect that his work is really +unworthy of serious criticism (orthodox). Indeed he knows no more about +the _dramatic art_ than, according to his own story in “The Man of +Destiny,” Napoleon at Tavazzano knew of the _Art of War_. But both men +were successes each in his way—the latter won victories and the former +gained audiences, in the very teeth of the accepted theories of war and +the theatre. Shaw does not know that it is unpardonable sin to have his +characters make long speeches at one another, apparently thinking that +this embargo applies only to long speeches which consist mainly of +bombast and rhetoric. There never was an author who showed less +predilection for a specific medium by which to accomplish his results. +He recognized, early in his days, many things awry in the world and he +assumed the task of mundane reformation with a confident spirit. It +seems such a small job at twenty to set the times aright. He began as +an Essayist, but who reads essays now-a-days?—he then turned novelist +with no better success, for no one would read such preposterous stuff +as he chose to emit. He only succeeded in proving that absolutely +rational men and women—although he has created few of the latter—can be +most extremely disagreeable to our conventional way of thinking. + +As a last resort, he turned to the stage, not that he cared for the +dramatic art, for no man seems to care less about “Art for Art’s sake,” +being in this a perfect foil to his brilliant compatriot and +contemporary, Wilde. He cast his theories in dramatic forms merely +because no other course except silence or physical revolt was open to +him. For a long time it seemed as if this resource too was doomed to +fail him. But finally he has attained a hearing and now attempts at +suppression merely serve to advertise their victim. + +It will repay those who seek analogies in literature to compare Shaw +with Cervantes. After a life of heroic endeavor, disappointment, +slavery, and poverty, the author of “Don Quixote” gave the world a +serious work which caused to be laughed off the world’s stage forever +the final vestiges of decadent chivalry. + +The institution had long been outgrown, but its vernacular continued to +be the speech and to express the thought “of the world and among the +vulgar,” as the quaint, old novelist puts it, just as to-day the novel +intended for the consumption of the unenlightened must deal with peers +and millionaires and be dressed in stilted language. Marvellously he +succeeded, but in a way he least intended. We have not yet, after so +many years, determined whether it is a work to laugh or cry over. “It +is our joyfullest modern book,” says Carlyle, while Landor thinks that +“readers who see nothing more than a burlesque in ‘Don Quixote’ have +but shallow appreciation of the work.” + +Shaw in like manner comes upon the scene when many of our social usages +are outworn. He sees the fact, announces it, and we burst into guffaws. +The continuous laughter which greets Shaw’s plays arises from a real +contrast in the point of view of the dramatist and his audiences. When +Pinero or Jones describes a whimsical situation we never doubt for a +moment that the author’s point of view is our own and that the abnormal +predicament of his characters appeals to him in the same light as to +his audience. With Shaw this sense of community of feeling is wholly +lacking. He describes things as he sees them, and the house is in a +roar. Who is right? If we were really using our own senses and not +gazing through the glasses of convention and romance and make-believe, +should we see things as Shaw does? + +Must it not cause Shaw to doubt his own or the public’s sanity to hear +audiences laughing boisterously over tragic situations? And yet, if +they did not come to laugh, they would not come at all. Mockery is the +price he must pay for a hearing. Or has he calculated to a nicety the +power of reaction? Does he seek to drive us to aspiration by the +portrayal of sordidness, to disinterestedness by the picture of +selfishness, to illusion by disillusionment? It is impossible to +believe that he is unconscious of the humor of his dramatic situations, +yet he stoically gives no sign. He even dares the charge, terrible in +proportion to its truth, which the most serious of us shrinks from—the +lack of a sense of humor. Men would rather have their integrity +impugned. + +In “Arms and the Man” the subject which occupies the dramatist’s +attention is that survival of barbarity—militarism—which raises its +horrid head from time to time to cast a doubt on the reality of our +civilization. No more hoary superstition survives than that the donning +of a uniform changes the nature of the wearer. This notion pervades +society to such an extent that when we find some soldiers placed upon +the stage acting rationally, our conventionalized senses are shocked. +The only men who have no illusions about war are those who have +recently been there, and, of course, Mr. Shaw, who has no illusions +about anything. + +It is hard to speak too highly of “Candida.” No equally subtle and +incisive study of domestic relations exists in the English drama. One +has to turn to George Meredith’s “The Egoist” to find such character +dissection. The central note of the play is, that with the true woman, +weakness which appeals to the maternal instinct is more powerful than +strength which offers protection. _Candida_ is quite unpoetic, as, +indeed, with rare exceptions, women are prone to be. They have small +delight in poetry, but are the stuff of which poems and dreams are +made. The husband glorying in his strength but convicted of his +weakness, the poet pitiful in his physical impotence but strong in his +perception of truth, the hopelessly de-moralized manufacturer, the +conventional and hence emotional typist make up a group which the drama +of any language may be challenged to rival. + +In “The Man of Destiny” the object of the dramatist is not so much the +destruction as the explanation of the Napoleonic tradition, which has +so powerfully influenced generation after generation for a century. +However the man may be regarded, he was a miracle. Shaw shows that he +achieved his extraordinary career by suspending, for himself, the +pressure of the moral and conventional atmosphere, while leaving it +operative for others. Those who study this play—extravaganza, that it +is—will attain a clearer comprehension of Napoleon than they can get +from all the biographies. + +“You Never Can Tell” offers an amusing study of the play of social +conventions. The “twins” illustrate the disconcerting effects of that +perfect frankness which would make life intolerable. _Gloria_ +demonstrates the powerlessness of reason to overcome natural instincts. +The idea that parental duties and functions can be fulfilled by the +light of such knowledge as man and woman attain by intuition is +brilliantly lampooned. _Crampton_, the father, typifies the common +superstition that among the privileges of parenthood are inflexibility, +tyranny, and respect, the last entirely regardless of whether it has +been deserved. + +The waiter, _William_, is the best illustration of the man “who knows +his place” that the stage has seen. He is the most pathetic figure of +the play. One touch of verisimilitude is lacking; none of the guests +gives him a tip, yet he maintains his urbanity. As Mr. Shaw has not yet +visited America he may be unaware of the improbability of this +situation. + +To those who regard literary men merely as purveyors of amusement for +people who have not wit enough to entertain themselves, Ibsen and Shaw, +Maeterlinck and Gorky must remain enigmas. It is so much pleasanter to +ignore than to face unpleasant realities—to take Riverside Drive and +not Mulberry Street as the exponent of our life and the expression of +our civilization. These men are the sappers and miners of the advancing +army of justice. The audience which demands the truth and despises the +contemptible conventions that dominate alike our stage and our life is +daily growing. Shaw and men like him—if indeed he is not absolutely +unique—will not for the future lack a hearing. + +M. + + + + +ARMS AND THE MAN + + + + +ACT I + + +Night. A lady’s bedchamber in Bulgaria, in a small town near the +Dragoman Pass. It is late in November in the year 1885, and through an +open window with a little balcony on the left can be seen a peak of the +Balkans, wonderfully white and beautiful in the starlit snow. The +interior of the room is not like anything to be seen in the east of +Europe. It is half rich Bulgarian, half cheap Viennese. The counterpane +and hangings of the bed, the window curtains, the little carpet, and +all the ornamental textile fabrics in the room are oriental and +gorgeous: the paper on the walls is occidental and paltry. Above the +head of the bed, which stands against a little wall cutting off the +right hand corner of the room diagonally, is a painted wooden shrine, +blue and gold, with an ivory image of Christ, and a light hanging +before it in a pierced metal ball suspended by three chains. On the +left, further forward, is an ottoman. The washstand, against the wall +on the left, consists of an enamelled iron basin with a pail beneath it +in a painted metal frame, and a single towel on the rail at the side. A +chair near it is Austrian bent wood, with cane seat. The dressing +table, between the bed and the window, is an ordinary pine table, +covered with a cloth of many colors, but with an expensive toilet +mirror on it. The door is on the right; and there is a chest of drawers +between the door and the bed. This chest of drawers is also covered by +a variegated native cloth, and on it there is a pile of paper backed +novels, a box of chocolate creams, and a miniature easel, on which is a +large photograph of an extremely handsome officer, whose lofty bearing +and magnetic glance can be felt even from the portrait. The room is +lighted by a candle on the chest of drawers, and another on the +dressing table, with a box of matches beside it. + +The window is hinged doorwise and stands wide open, folding back to the +left. Outside a pair of wooden shutters, opening outwards, also stand +open. On the balcony, a young lady, intensely conscious of the romantic +beauty of the night, and of the fact that her own youth and beauty is a +part of it, is on the balcony, gazing at the snowy Balkans. She is +covered by a long mantle of furs, worth, on a moderate estimate, about +three times the furniture of her room. + +Her reverie is interrupted by her mother, Catherine Petkoff, a woman +over forty, imperiously energetic, with magnificent black hair and +eyes, who might be a very splendid specimen of the wife of a mountain +farmer, but is determined to be a Viennese lady, and to that end wears +a fashionable tea gown on all occasions. + +CATHERINE. +(_entering hastily, full of good news_). Raina—(_she pronounces it +Rah-eena, with the stress on the ee_) Raina—(_she goes to the bed, +expecting to find Raina there._) Why, where—(_Raina looks into the +room._) Heavens! child, are you out in the night air instead of in your +bed? You’ll catch your death. Louka told me you were asleep. + +RAINA. +(_coming in_). I sent her away. I wanted to be alone. The stars are so +beautiful! What is the matter? + +CATHERINE. +Such news. There has been a battle! + +RAINA. +(_her eyes dilating_). Ah! (_She throws the cloak on the ottoman, and +comes eagerly to Catherine in her nightgown, a pretty garment, but +evidently the only one she has on._) + +CATHERINE. +A great battle at Slivnitza! A victory! And it was won by Sergius. + +RAINA. +(_with a cry of delight_). Ah! (_Rapturously._) Oh, mother! (_Then, +with sudden anxiety_) Is father safe? + +CATHERINE. +Of course: he sent me the news. Sergius is the hero of the hour, the +idol of the regiment. + +RAINA. +Tell me, tell me. How was it! (_Ecstatically_) Oh, mother, mother, +mother! (_Raina pulls her mother down on the ottoman; and they kiss one +another frantically._) + +CATHERINE. +(_with surging enthusiasm_). You can’t guess how splendid it is. A +cavalry charge—think of that! He defied our Russian commanders—acted +without orders—led a charge on his own responsibility—headed it +himself—was the first man to sweep through their guns. Can’t you see +it, Raina; our gallant splendid Bulgarians with their swords and eyes +flashing, thundering down like an avalanche and scattering the wretched +Servian dandies like chaff. And you—you kept Sergius waiting a year +before you would be betrothed to him. Oh, if you have a drop of +Bulgarian blood in your veins, you will worship him when he comes back. + +RAINA. +What will he care for my poor little worship after the acclamations of +a whole army of heroes? But no matter: I am so happy—so proud! (_She +rises and walks about excitedly._) It proves that all our ideas were +real after all. + +CATHERINE. +(_indignantly_). Our ideas real! What do you mean? + +RAINA. +Our ideas of what Sergius would do—our patriotism—our heroic ideals. +Oh, what faithless little creatures girls are!—I sometimes used to +doubt whether they were anything but dreams. When I buckled on +Sergius’s sword he looked so noble: it was treason to think of +disillusion or humiliation or failure. And yet—and yet—(_Quickly._) +Promise me you’ll never tell him. + +CATHERINE. +Don’t ask me for promises until I know what I am promising. + +RAINA. +Well, it came into my head just as he was holding me in his arms and +looking into my eyes, that perhaps we only had our heroic ideas because +we are so fond of reading Byron and Pushkin, and because we were so +delighted with the opera that season at Bucharest. Real life is so +seldom like that—indeed never, as far as I knew it then. +(_Remorsefully._) Only think, mother, I doubted him: I wondered whether +all his heroic qualities and his soldiership might not prove mere +imagination when he went into a real battle. I had an uneasy fear that +he might cut a poor figure there beside all those clever Russian +officers. + +CATHERINE. +A poor figure! Shame on you! The Servians have Austrian officers who +are just as clever as our Russians; but we have beaten them in every +battle for all that. + +RAINA. +(_laughing and sitting down again_). Yes, I was only a prosaic little +coward. Oh, to think that it was all true—that Sergius is just as +splendid and noble as he looks—that the world is really a glorious +world for women who can see its glory and men who can act its romance! +What happiness! what unspeakable fulfilment! Ah! (_She throws herself +on her knees beside her mother and flings her arms passionately round +her. They are interrupted by the entry of Louka, a handsome, proud girl +in a pretty Bulgarian peasant’s dress with double apron, so defiant +that her servility to Raina is almost insolent. She is afraid of +Catherine, but even with her goes as far as she dares. She is just now +excited like the others; but she has no sympathy for Raina’s raptures +and looks contemptuously at the ecstasies of the two before she +addresses them._) + +LOUKA. +If you please, madam, all the windows are to be closed and the shutters +made fast. They say there may be shooting in the streets. (_Raina and +Catherine rise together, alarmed._) The Servians are being chased right +back through the pass; and they say they may run into the town. Our +cavalry will be after them; and our people will be ready for them you +may be sure, now that they are running away. (_She goes out on the +balcony and pulls the outside shutters to; then steps back into the +room._) + +RAINA. +I wish our people were not so cruel. What glory is there in killing +wretched fugitives? + +CATHERINE. +(_business-like, her housekeeping instincts aroused_). I must see that +everything is made safe downstairs. + +RAINA. +(_to Louka_). Leave the shutters so that I can just close them if I +hear any noise. + +CATHERINE. +(_authoritatively, turning on her way to the door_). Oh, no, dear, you +must keep them fastened. You would be sure to drop off to sleep and +leave them open. Make them fast, Louka. + +LOUKA. +Yes, madam. (_She fastens them._) + +RAINA. +Don’t be anxious about me. The moment I hear a shot, I shall blow out +the candles and roll myself up in bed with my ears well covered. + +CATHERINE. +Quite the wisest thing you can do, my love. Good-night. + +RAINA. +Good-night. (_They kiss one another, and Raina’s emotion comes back for +a moment._) Wish me joy of the happiest night of my life—if only there +are no fugitives. + +CATHERINE. +Go to bed, dear; and don’t think of them. (_She goes out._) + +LOUKA. +(_secretly, to Raina_). If you would like the shutters open, just give +them a push like this. (_She pushes them: they open: she pulls them to +again._) One of them ought to be bolted at the bottom; but the bolt’s +gone. + +RAINA. +(_with dignity, reproving her_). Thanks, Louka; but we must do what we +are told. (_Louka makes a grimace._) Good-night. + +LOUKA. +(_carelessly_). Good-night. (_She goes out, swaggering._) + +(_Raina, left alone, goes to the chest of drawers, and adores the +portrait there with feelings that are beyond all expression. She does +not kiss it or press it to her breast, or shew it any mark of bodily +affection; but she takes it in her hands and elevates it like a +priestess._) + +RAINA. +(_looking up at the picture with worship._) Oh, I shall never be +unworthy of you any more, my hero—never, never, never. + +(_She replaces it reverently, and selects a novel from the little pile +of books. She turns over the leaves dreamily; finds her page; turns the +book inside out at it; and then, with a happy sigh, gets into bed and +prepares to read herself to sleep. But before abandoning herself to +fiction, she raises her eyes once more, thinking of the blessed reality +and murmurs_) + +My hero! my hero! + +(_A distant shot breaks the quiet of the night outside. She starts, +listening; and two more shots, much nearer, follow, startling her so +that she scrambles out of bed, and hastily blows out the candle on the +chest of drawers. Then, putting her fingers in her ears, she runs to +the dressing-table and blows out the light there, and hurries back to +bed. The room is now in darkness: nothing is visible but the glimmer of +the light in the pierced ball before the image, and the starlight seen +through the slits at the top of the shutters. The firing breaks out +again: there is a startling fusillade quite close at hand. Whilst it is +still echoing, the shutters disappear, pulled open from without, and +for an instant the rectangle of snowy starlight flashes out with the +figure of a man in black upon it. The shutters close immediately and +the room is dark again. But the silence is now broken by the sound of +panting. Then there is a scrape; and the flame of a match is seen in +the middle of the room._) + +RAINA. +(_crouching on the bed_). Who’s there? (_The match is out instantly._) +Who’s there? Who is that? + +A MAN’S VOICE. +(_in the darkness, subduedly, but threateningly_). Sh—sh! Don’t call +out or you’ll be shot. Be good; and no harm will happen to you. (_She +is heard leaving her bed, and making for the door._) Take care, there’s +no use in trying to run away. Remember, if you raise your voice my +pistol will go off. (_Commandingly._) Strike a light and let me see +you. Do you hear? (_Another moment of silence and darkness. Then she is +heard retreating to the dressing-table. She lights a candle, and the +mystery is at an end. A man of about 35, in a deplorable plight, +bespattered with mud and blood and snow, his belt and the strap of his +revolver case keeping together the torn ruins of the blue coat of a +Servian artillery officer. As far as the candlelight and his unwashed, +unkempt condition make it possible to judge, he is a man of middling +stature and undistinguished appearance, with strong neck and shoulders, +a roundish, obstinate looking head covered with short crisp bronze +curls, clear quick blue eyes and good brows and mouth, a hopelessly +prosaic nose like that of a strong-minded baby, trim soldierlike +carriage and energetic manner, and with all his wits about him in spite +of his desperate predicament—even with a sense of humor of it, without, +however, the least intention of trifling with it or throwing away a +chance. He reckons up what he can guess about Raina—her age, her social +position, her character, the extent to which she is frightened—at a +glance, and continues, more politely but still most determinedly_) +Excuse my disturbing you; but you recognise my uniform—Servian. If I’m +caught I shall be killed. (_Determinedly._) Do you understand that? + +RAINA. +Yes. + +MAN. +Well, I don’t intend to get killed if I can help it. (_Still more +determinedly._) Do you understand that? (_He locks the door with a +snap._) + +RAINA. +(_disdainfully_). I suppose not. (_She draws herself up superbly, and +looks him straight in the face, saying with emphasis_) Some soldiers, I +know, are afraid of death. + +MAN. +(_with grim goodhumor_). All of them, dear lady, all of them, believe +me. It is our duty to live as long as we can, and kill as many of the +enemy as we can. Now if you raise an alarm— + +RAINA. +(_cutting him short_). You will shoot me. How do you know that I am +afraid to die? + +MAN. +(_cunningly_). Ah; but suppose I don’t shoot you, what will happen +then? Why, a lot of your cavalry—the greatest blackguards in your +army—will burst into this pretty room of yours and slaughter me here +like a pig; for I’ll fight like a demon: they shan’t get me into the +street to amuse themselves with: I know what they are. Are you prepared +to receive that sort of company in your present undress? (_Raina, +suddenly conscious of her nightgown, instinctively shrinks and gathers +it more closely about her. He watches her, and adds, pitilessly_) It’s +rather scanty, eh? (_She turns to the ottoman. He raises his pistol +instantly, and cries_) Stop! (_She stops._) Where are you going? + +RAINA. +(_with dignified patience_). Only to get my cloak. + +MAN. +(_darting to the ottoman and snatching the cloak_). A good idea. No: +I’ll keep the cloak: and you will take care that nobody comes in and +sees you without it. This is a better weapon than the pistol. (_He +throws the pistol down on the ottoman._) + +RAINA. +(_revolted_). It is not the weapon of a gentleman! + +MAN. +It’s good enough for a man with only you to stand between him and +death. (_As they look at one another for a moment, Raina hardly able to +believe that even a Servian officer can be so cynically and selfishly +unchivalrous, they are startled by a sharp fusillade in the street. The +chill of imminent death hushes the man’s voice as he adds_) Do you +hear? If you are going to bring those scoundrels in on me you shall +receive them as you are. (_Raina meets his eye with unflinching scorn. +Suddenly he starts, listening. There is a step outside. Someone tries +the door, and then knocks hurriedly and urgently at it. Raina looks at +the man, breathless. He throws up his head with the gesture of a man +who sees that it is all over with him, and, dropping the manner which +he has been assuming to intimidate her, flings the cloak to her, +exclaiming, sincerely and kindly_) No use: I’m done for. Quick! wrap +yourself up: they’re coming! + +RAINA. +(_catching the cloak eagerly_). Oh, thank you. (_She wraps herself up +with great relief. He draws his sabre and turns to the door, waiting._) + +LOUKA. +(_outside, knocking_). My lady, my lady! Get up, quick, and open the +door. + +RAINA. +(_anxiously_). What will you do? + +MAN. +(_grimly_). Never mind. Keep out of the way. It will not last long. + +RAINA. +(_impulsively_). I’ll help you. Hide yourself, oh, hide yourself, +quick, behind the curtain. (_She seizes him by a torn strip of his +sleeve, and pulls him towards the window._) + +MAN. +(_yielding to her_). There is just half a chance, if you keep your +head. Remember: nine soldiers out of ten are born fools. (_He hides +behind the curtain, looking out for a moment to say, finally_) If they +find me, I promise you a fight—a devil of a fight! (_He disappears. +Raina takes off the cloak and throws it across the foot of the bed. +Then with a sleepy, disturbed air, she opens the door. Louka enters +excitedly._) + +LOUKA. +A man has been seen climbing up the water-pipe to your balcony—a +Servian. The soldiers want to search for him; and they are so wild and +drunk and furious. My lady says you are to dress at once. + +RAINA. +(_as if annoyed at being disturbed_). They shall not search here. Why +have they been let in? + +CATHERINE. +(_coming in hastily_). Raina, darling, are you safe? Have you seen +anyone or heard anything? + +RAINA. +I heard the shooting. Surely the soldiers will not dare come in here? + +CATHERINE. +I have found a Russian officer, thank Heaven: he knows Sergius. +(_Speaking through the door to someone outside._) Sir, will you come in +now! My daughter is ready. + +(_A young Russian officer, in Bulgarian uniform, enters, sword in +hand._) + +THE OFFICER. +(_with soft, feline politeness and stiff military carriage_). Good +evening, gracious lady; I am sorry to intrude, but there is a fugitive +hiding on the balcony. Will you and the gracious lady your mother +please to withdraw whilst we search? + +RAINA. +(_petulantly_). Nonsense, sir, you can see that there is no one on the +balcony. (_She throws the shutters wide open and stands with her back +to the curtain where the man is hidden, pointing to the moonlit +balcony. A couple of shots are fired right under the window, and a +bullet shatters the glass opposite Raina, who winks and gasps, but +stands her ground, whilst Catherine screams, and the officer rushes to +the balcony._) + +THE OFFICER. +(_on the balcony, shouting savagely down to the street_). Cease firing +there, you fools: do you hear? Cease firing, damn you. (_He glares down +for a moment; then turns to Raina, trying to resume his polite +manner._) Could anyone have got in without your knowledge? Were you +asleep? + +RAINA. +No, I have not been to bed. + +THE OFFICER. +(_impatiently, coming back into the room_). Your neighbours have their +heads so full of runaway Servians that they see them everywhere. +(_Politely._) Gracious lady, a thousand pardons. Good-night. (_Military +bow, which Raina returns coldly. Another to Catherine, who follows him +out. Raina closes the shutters. She turns and sees Louka, who has been +watching the scene curiously._) + +RAINA. +Don’t leave my mother, Louka, whilst the soldiers are here. (_Louka +glances at Raina, at the ottoman, at the curtain; then purses her lips +secretively, laughs to herself, and goes out. Raina follows her to the +door, shuts it behind her with a slam, and locks it violently. The man +immediately steps out from behind the curtain, sheathing his sabre, and +dismissing the danger from his mind in a businesslike way._) + +MAN. +A narrow shave; but a miss is as good as a mile. Dear young lady, your +servant until death. I wish for your sake I had joined the Bulgarian +army instead of the Servian. I am not a native Servian. + +RAINA. +(_haughtily_). No, you are one of the Austrians who set the Servians on +to rob us of our national liberty, and who officer their army for them. +We hate them! + +MAN. +Austrian! not I. Don’t hate me, dear young lady. I am only a Swiss, +fighting merely as a professional soldier. I joined Servia because it +was nearest to me. Be generous: you’ve beaten us hollow. + +RAINA. +Have I not been generous? + +MAN. +Noble!—heroic! But I’m not saved yet. This particular rush will soon +pass through; but the pursuit will go on all night by fits and starts. +I must take my chance to get off during a quiet interval. You don’t +mind my waiting just a minute or two, do you? + +RAINA. +Oh, no: I am sorry you will have to go into danger again. (_Motioning +towards ottoman._) Won’t you sit—(_She breaks off with an irrepressible +cry of alarm as she catches sight of the pistol. The man, all nerves, +shies like a frightened horse._) + +MAN. +(_irritably_). Don’t frighten me like that. What is it? + +RAINA. +Your pistol! It was staring that officer in the face all the time. What +an escape! + +MAN. +(_vexed at being unnecessarily terrified_). Oh, is that all? + +RAINA. +(_staring at him rather superciliously, conceiving a poorer and poorer +opinion of him, and feeling proportionately more and more at her ease +with him_). I am sorry I frightened you. (_She takes up the pistol and +hands it to him._) Pray take it to protect yourself against me. + +MAN. +(_grinning wearily at the sarcasm as he takes the pistol_). No use, +dear young lady: there’s nothing in it. It’s not loaded. (_He makes a +grimace at it, and drops it disparagingly into his revolver case._) + +RAINA. +Load it by all means. + +MAN. +I’ve no ammunition. What use are cartridges in battle? I always carry +chocolate instead; and I finished the last cake of that yesterday. + +RAINA. +(_outraged in her most cherished ideals of manhood_). Chocolate! Do you +stuff your pockets with sweets—like a schoolboy—even in the field? + +MAN. +Yes. Isn’t it contemptible? + +(_Raina stares at him, unable to utter her feelings. Then she sails +away scornfully to the chest of drawers, and returns with the box of +confectionery in her hand._) + +RAINA. +Allow me. I am sorry I have eaten them all except these. (_She offers +him the box._) + +MAN. +(_ravenously_). You’re an angel! (_He gobbles the comfits._) Creams! +Delicious! (_He looks anxiously to see whether there are any more. +There are none. He accepts the inevitable with pathetic goodhumor, and +says, with grateful emotion_) Bless you, dear lady. You can always tell +an old soldier by the inside of his holsters and cartridge boxes. The +young ones carry pistols and cartridges; the old ones, grub. Thank you. +(_He hands back the box. She snatches it contemptuously from him and +throws it away. This impatient action is so sudden that he shies +again._) Ugh! Don’t do things so suddenly, gracious lady. Don’t revenge +yourself because I frightened you just now. + +RAINA. +(_superbly_). Frighten me! Do you know, sir, that though I am only a +woman, I think I am at heart as brave as you. + +MAN. +I should think so. You haven’t been under fire for three days as I +have. I can stand two days without shewing it much; but no man can +stand three days: I’m as nervous as a mouse. (_He sits down on the +ottoman, and takes his head in his hands._) Would you like to see me +cry? + +RAINA. +(_quickly_). No. + +MAN. +If you would, all you have to do is to scold me just as if I were a +little boy and you my nurse. If I were in camp now they’d play all +sorts of tricks on me. + +RAINA. +(_a little moved_). I’m sorry. I won’t scold you. (_Touched by the +sympathy in her tone, he raises his head and looks gratefully at her: +she immediately draws back and says stiffly_) You must excuse me: our +soldiers are not like that. (_She moves away from the ottoman._) + +MAN. +Oh, yes, they are. There are only two sorts of soldiers: old ones and +young ones. I’ve served fourteen years: half of your fellows never +smelt powder before. Why, how is it that you’ve just beaten us? Sheer +ignorance of the art of war, nothing else. (_Indignantly._) I never saw +anything so unprofessional. + +RAINA. +(_ironically_). Oh, was it unprofessional to beat you? + +MAN. +Well, come, is it professional to throw a regiment of cavalry on a +battery of machine guns, with the dead certainty that if the guns go +off not a horse or man will ever get within fifty yards of the fire? I +couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw it. + +RAINA. +(_eagerly turning to him, as all her enthusiasm and her dream of glory +rush back on her_). Did you see the great cavalry charge? Oh, tell me +about it. Describe it to me. + +MAN. +You never saw a cavalry charge, did you? + +RAINA. +How could I? + +MAN. +Ah, perhaps not—of course. Well, it’s a funny sight. It’s like slinging +a handful of peas against a window pane: first one comes; then two or +three close behind him; and then all the rest in a lump. + +RAINA. +(_her eyes dilating as she raises her clasped hands ecstatically_). +Yes, first One!—the bravest of the brave! + +MAN. +(_prosaically_). Hm! you should see the poor devil pulling at his +horse. + +RAINA. +Why should he pull at his horse? + +MAN. +(_impatient of so stupid a question_). It’s running away with him, of +course: do you suppose the fellow wants to get there before the others +and be killed? Then they all come. You can tell the young ones by their +wildness and their slashing. The old ones come bunched up under the +number one guard: they know that they are mere projectiles, and that +it’s no use trying to fight. The wounds are mostly broken knees, from +the horses cannoning together. + +RAINA. +Ugh! But I don’t believe the first man is a coward. I believe he is a +hero! + +MAN. +(_goodhumoredly_). That’s what you’d have said if you’d seen the first +man in the charge to-day. + +RAINA. +(_breathless_). Ah, I knew it! Tell me—tell me about him. + +MAN. +He did it like an operatic tenor—a regular handsome fellow, with +flashing eyes and lovely moustache, shouting a war-cry and charging +like Don Quixote at the windmills. We nearly burst with laughter at +him; but when the sergeant ran up as white as a sheet, and told us +they’d sent us the wrong cartridges, and that we couldn’t fire a shot +for the next ten minutes, we laughed at the other side of our mouths. I +never felt so sick in my life, though I’ve been in one or two very +tight places. And I hadn’t even a revolver cartridge—nothing but +chocolate. We’d no bayonets—nothing. Of course, they just cut us to +bits. And there was Don Quixote flourishing like a drum major, thinking +he’d done the cleverest thing ever known, whereas he ought to be +courtmartialled for it. Of all the fools ever let loose on a field of +battle, that man must be the very maddest. He and his regiment simply +committed suicide—only the pistol missed fire, that’s all. + +RAINA. +(_deeply wounded, but steadfastly loyal to her ideals_). Indeed! Would +you know him again if you saw him? + +MAN. +Shall I ever forget him. (_She again goes to the chest of drawers. He +watches her with a vague hope that she may have something else for him +to eat. She takes the portrait from its stand and brings it to him._) + +RAINA. +That is a photograph of the gentleman—the patriot and hero—to whom I am +betrothed. + +MAN. +(_looking at it_). I’m really very sorry. (_Looking at her._) Was it +fair to lead me on? (_He looks at the portrait again._) Yes: that’s +him: not a doubt of it. (_He stifles a laugh._) + +RAINA. +(_quickly_). Why do you laugh? + +MAN. +(_shamefacedly, but still greatly tickled_). I didn’t laugh, I assure +you. At least I didn’t mean to. But when I think of him charging the +windmills and thinking he was doing the finest thing—(_chokes with +suppressed laughter_). + +RAINA. +(_sternly_). Give me back the portrait, sir. + +MAN. +(_with sincere remorse_). Of course. Certainly. I’m really very sorry. +(_She deliberately kisses it, and looks him straight in the face, +before returning to the chest of drawers to replace it. He follows her, +apologizing._) Perhaps I’m quite wrong, you know: no doubt I am. Most +likely he had got wind of the cartridge business somehow, and knew it +was a safe job. + +RAINA. +That is to say, he was a pretender and a coward! You did not dare say +that before. + +MAN. +(_with a comic gesture of despair_). It’s no use, dear lady: I can’t +make you see it from the professional point of view. (_As he turns away +to get back to the ottoman, the firing begins again in the distance._) + +RAINA. +(_sternly, as she sees him listening to the shots_). So much the better +for you. + +MAN. +(_turning_). How? + +RAINA. +You are my enemy; and you are at my mercy. What would I do if I were a +professional soldier? + +MAN. +Ah, true, dear young lady: you’re always right. I know how good you +have been to me: to my last hour I shall remember those three chocolate +creams. It was unsoldierly; but it was angelic. + +RAINA. +(_coldly_). Thank you. And now I will do a soldierly thing. You cannot +stay here after what you have just said about my future husband; but I +will go out on the balcony and see whether it is safe for you to climb +down into the street. (_She turns to the window._) + +MAN. +(_changing countenance_). Down that waterpipe! Stop! Wait! I can’t! I +daren’t! The very thought of it makes me giddy. I came up it fast +enough with death behind me. But to face it now in cold blood!—(_He +sinks on the ottoman._) It’s no use: I give up: I’m beaten. Give the +alarm. (_He drops his head in his hands in the deepest dejection._) + +RAINA. +(_disarmed by pity_). Come, don’t be disheartened. (_She stoops over +him almost maternally: he shakes his head._) Oh, you are a very poor +soldier—a chocolate cream soldier. Come, cheer up: it takes less +courage to climb down than to face capture—remember that. + +MAN. +(_dreamily, lulled by her voice_). No, capture only means death; and +death is sleep—oh, sleep, sleep, sleep, undisturbed sleep! Climbing +down the pipe means doing something—exerting myself—thinking! Death ten +times over first. + +RAINA. +(_softly and wonderingly, catching the rhythm of his weariness_). Are +you so sleepy as that? + +MAN. +I’ve not had two hours’ undisturbed sleep since the war began. I’m on +the staff: you don’t know what that means. I haven’t closed my eyes for +thirty-six hours. + +RAINA. +(_desperately_). But what am I to do with you. + +MAN. +(_staggering up_). Of course I must do something. (_He shakes himself; +pulls himself together; and speaks with rallied vigour and courage._) +You see, sleep or no sleep, hunger or no hunger, tired or not tired, +you can always do a thing when you know it must be done. Well, that +pipe must be got down—(_He hits himself on the chest, and adds_)—Do you +hear that, you chocolate cream soldier? (_He turns to the window._) + +RAINA. +(_anxiously_). But if you fall? + +MAN. +I shall sleep as if the stones were a feather bed. Good-bye. (_He makes +boldly for the window, and his hand is on the shutter when there is a +terrible burst of firing in the street beneath._) + +RAINA. +(_rushing to him_). Stop! (_She catches him by the shoulder, and turns +him quite round._) They’ll kill you. + +MAN. +(_coolly, but attentively_). Never mind: this sort of thing is all in +my day’s work. I’m bound to take my chance. (_Decisively._) Now do what +I tell you. Put out the candles, so that they shan’t see the light when +I open the shutters. And keep away from the window, whatever you do. If +they see me, they’re sure to have a shot at me. + +RAINA. +(_clinging to him_). They’re sure to see you: it’s bright moonlight. +I’ll save you—oh, how can you be so indifferent? You want me to save +you, don’t you? + +MAN. +I really don’t want to be troublesome. (_She shakes him in her +impatience._) I am not indifferent, dear young lady, I assure you. But +how is it to be done? + +RAINA. +Come away from the window—please. (_She coaxes him back to the middle +of the room. He submits humbly. She releases him, and addresses him +patronizingly._) Now listen. You must trust to our hospitality. You do +not yet know in whose house you are. I am a Petkoff. + +MAN. +What’s that? + +RAINA. +(_rather indignantly_). I mean that I belong to the family of the +Petkoffs, the richest and best known in our country. + +MAN. +Oh, yes, of course. I beg your pardon. The Petkoffs, to be sure. How +stupid of me! + +RAINA. +You know you never heard of them until this minute. How can you stoop +to pretend? + +MAN. +Forgive me: I’m too tired to think; and the change of subject was too +much for me. Don’t scold me. + +RAINA. +I forgot. It might make you cry. (_He nods, quite seriously. She pouts +and then resumes her patronizing tone._) I must tell you that my father +holds the highest command of any Bulgarian in our army. He is +(_proudly_) a Major. + +MAN. +(_pretending to be deeply impressed_). A Major! Bless me! Think of +that! + +RAINA. +You shewed great ignorance in thinking that it was necessary to climb +up to the balcony, because ours is the only private house that has two +rows of windows. There is a flight of stairs inside to get up and down +by. + +MAN. +Stairs! How grand! You live in great luxury indeed, dear young lady. + +RAINA. +Do you know what a library is? + +MAN. +A library? A roomful of books. + +RAINA. +Yes, we have one, the only one in Bulgaria. + +MAN. +Actually a real library! I should like to see that. + +RAINA. +(_affectedly_). I tell you these things to shew you that you are not in +the house of ignorant country folk who would kill you the moment they +saw your Servian uniform, but among civilized people. We go to +Bucharest every year for the opera season; and I have spent a whole +month in Vienna. + +MAN. +I saw that, dear young lady. I saw at once that you knew the world. + +RAINA. +Have you ever seen the opera of Ernani? + +MAN. +Is that the one with the devil in it in red velvet, and a soldier’s +chorus? + +RAINA. +(_contemptuously_). No! + +MAN. +(_stifling a heavy sigh of weariness_). Then I don’t know it. + +RAINA. +I thought you might have remembered the great scene where Ernani, +flying from his foes just as you are tonight, takes refuge in the +castle of his bitterest enemy, an old Castilian noble. The noble +refuses to give him up. His guest is sacred to him. + +MAN. +(_quickly waking up a little_). Have your people got that notion? + +RAINA. +(_with dignity_). My mother and I can understand that notion, as you +call it. And if instead of threatening me with your pistol as you did, +you had simply thrown yourself as a fugitive on our hospitality, you +would have been as safe as in your father’s house. + +MAN. +Quite sure? + +RAINA. +(_turning her back on him in disgust._) Oh, it is useless to try and +make you understand. + +MAN. +Don’t be angry: you see how awkward it would be for me if there was any +mistake. My father is a very hospitable man: he keeps six hotels; but I +couldn’t trust him as far as that. What about YOUR father? + +RAINA. +He is away at Slivnitza fighting for his country. I answer for your +safety. There is my hand in pledge of it. Will that reassure you? (_She +offers him her hand._) + +MAN. +(_looking dubiously at his own hand_). Better not touch my hand, dear +young lady. I must have a wash first. + +RAINA. +(_touched_). That is very nice of you. I see that you are a gentleman. + +MAN. +(_puzzled_). Eh? + +RAINA. +You must not think I am surprised. Bulgarians of really good +standing—people in OUR position—wash their hands nearly every day. But +I appreciate your delicacy. You may take my hand. (_She offers it +again._) + +MAN. +(_kissing it with his hands behind his back_). Thanks, gracious young +lady: I feel safe at last. And now would you mind breaking the news to +your mother? I had better not stay here secretly longer than is +necessary. + +RAINA. +If you will be so good as to keep perfectly still whilst I am away. + +MAN. +Certainly. (_He sits down on the ottoman._) + +(_Raina goes to the bed and wraps herself in the fur cloak. His eyes +close. She goes to the door, but on turning for a last look at him, +sees that he is dropping of to sleep._) + +RAINA. +(_at the door_). You are not going asleep, are you? (_He murmurs +inarticulately: she runs to him and shakes him._) Do you hear? Wake up: +you are falling asleep. + +MAN. +Eh? Falling aslee—? Oh, no, not the least in the world: I was only +thinking. It’s all right: I’m wide awake. + +RAINA. +(_severely_). Will you please stand up while I am away. (_He rises +reluctantly._) All the time, mind. + +MAN. +(_standing unsteadily_). Certainly—certainly: you may depend on me. + +(_Raina looks doubtfully at him. He smiles foolishly. She goes +reluctantly, turning again at the door, and almost catching him in the +act of yawning. She goes out._) + +MAN. +(_drowsily_). Sleep, sleep, sleep, sleep, slee—(_The words trail off +into a murmur. He wakes again with a shock on the point of falling._) +Where am I? That’s what I want to know: where am I? Must keep awake. +Nothing keeps me awake except danger—remember that—(_intently_) danger, +danger, danger, dan— Where’s danger? Must find it. (_He starts of +vaguely around the room in search of it._) What am I looking for? +Sleep—danger—don’t know. (_He stumbles against the bed._) Ah, yes: now +I know. All right now. I’m to go to bed, but not to sleep—be sure not +to sleep—because of danger. Not to lie down, either, only sit down. +(_He sits on the bed. A blissful expression comes into his face._) Ah! +(_With a happy sigh he sinks back at full length; lifts his boots into +the bed with a final effort; and falls fast asleep instantly._) + +(_Catherine comes in, followed by Raina._) + +RAINA. +(_looking at the ottoman_). He’s gone! I left him here. + +CATHERINE. +Here! Then he must have climbed down from the— + +RAINA. +(_seeing him_). Oh! (_She points._) + +CATHERINE. +(_scandalized_). Well! (_She strides to the left side of the bed, Raina +following and standing opposite her on the right._) He’s fast asleep. +The brute! + +RAINA. +(_anxiously_). Sh! + +CATHERINE. +(_shaking him_). Sir! (_Shaking him again, harder._) Sir!! (_Vehemently +shaking very bard._) Sir!!! + +RAINA. +(_catching her arm_). Don’t, mamma: the poor dear is worn out. Let him +sleep. + +CATHERINE. +(_letting him go and turning amazed to Raina_). The poor dear! Raina!!! +(_She looks sternly at her daughter. The man sleeps profoundly._) + + + + +ACT II + + +The sixth of March, 1886. In the garden of major Petkoff’s house. It is +a fine spring morning; and the garden looks fresh and pretty. Beyond +the paling the tops of a couple of minarets can be seen, shewing that +there is a valley there, with the little town in it. A few miles +further the Balkan mountains rise and shut in the view. Within the +garden the side of the house is seen on the right, with a garden door +reached by a little flight of steps. On the left the stable yard, with +its gateway, encroaches on the garden. There are fruit bushes along the +paling and house, covered with washing hung out to dry. A path runs by +the house, and rises by two steps at the corner where it turns out of +the right along the front. In the middle a small table, with two bent +wood chairs at it, is laid for breakfast with Turkish coffee pot, cups, +rolls, etc.; but the cups have been used and the bread broken. There is +a wooden garden seat against the wall on the left. + +Louka, smoking a cigaret, is standing between the table and the house, +turning her back with angry disdain on a man-servant who is lecturing +her. He is a middle-aged man of cool temperament and low but clear and +keen intelligence, with the complacency of the servant who values +himself on his rank in servility, and the imperturbability of the +accurate calculator who has no illusions. He wears a white Bulgarian +costume jacket with decorated border, sash, wide knickerbockers, and +decorated gaiters. His head is shaved up to the crown, giving him a +high Japanese forehead. His name is Nicola. + +NICOLA. +Be warned in time, Louka: mend your manners. I know the mistress. She +is so grand that she never dreams that any servant could dare to be +disrespectful to her; but if she once suspects that you are defying +her, out you go. + +LOUKA. +I do defy her. I will defy her. What do I care for her? + +NICOLA. +If you quarrel with the family, I never can marry you. It’s the same as +if you quarrelled with me! + +LOUKA. +You take her part against me, do you? + +NICOLA. +(_sedately_). I shall always be dependent on the good will of the +family. When I leave their service and start a shop in Sofia, their +custom will be half my capital: their bad word would ruin me. + +LOUKA. +You have no spirit. I should like to see them dare say a word against +me! + +NICOLA. +(_pityingly_). I should have expected more sense from you, Louka. But +you’re young, you’re young! + +LOUKA. +Yes; and you like me the better for it, don’t you? But I know some +family secrets they wouldn’t care to have told, young as I am. Let them +quarrel with me if they dare! + +NICOLA. +(_with compassionate superiority_). Do you know what they would do if +they heard you talk like that? + +LOUKA. +What could they do? + +NICOLA. +Discharge you for untruthfulness. Who would believe any stories you +told after that? Who would give you another situation? Who in this +house would dare be seen speaking to you ever again? How long would +your father be left on his little farm? (_She impatiently throws away +the end of her cigaret, and stamps on it._) Child, you don’t know the +power such high people have over the like of you and me when we try to +rise out of our poverty against them. (_He goes close to her and lowers +his voice._) Look at me, ten years in their service. Do you think I +know no secrets? I know things about the mistress that she wouldn’t +have the master know for a thousand levas. I know things about him that +she wouldn’t let him hear the last of for six months if I blabbed them +to her. I know things about Raina that would break off her match with +Sergius if— + +LOUKA. +(_turning on him quickly_). How do you know? I never told you! + +NICOLA. +(_opening his eyes cunningly_). So that’s your little secret, is it? I +thought it might be something like that. Well, you take my advice, and +be respectful; and make the mistress feel that no matter what you know +or don’t know, they can depend on you to hold your tongue and serve the +family faithfully. That’s what they like; and that’s how you’ll make +most out of them. + +LOUKA. +(_with searching scorn_). You have the soul of a servant, Nicola. + +NICOLA. +(_complacently_). Yes: that’s the secret of success in service. + +(_A loud knocking with a whip handle on a wooden door, outside on the +left, is heard._) + +MALE VOICE OUTSIDE. +Hollo! Hollo there! Nicola! + +LOUKA. +Master! back from the war! + +NICOLA. +(_quickly_). My word for it, Louka, the war’s over. Off with you and +get some fresh coffee. (_He runs out into the stable yard._) + +LOUKA. +(_as she puts the coffee pot and the cups upon the tray, and carries it +into the house_). You’ll never put the soul of a servant into me. + +(_Major Petkoff comes from the stable yard, followed by Nicola. He is a +cheerful, excitable, insignificant, unpolished man of about 50, +naturally unambitious except as to his income and his importance in +local society, but just now greatly pleased with the military rank +which the war has thrust on him as a man of consequence in his town. +The fever of plucky patriotism which the Servian attack roused in all +the Bulgarians has pulled him through the war; but he is obviously glad +to be home again._) + +PETKOFF. +(_pointing to the table with his whip_). Breakfast out here, eh? + +NICOLA. +Yes, sir. The mistress and Miss Raina have just gone in. + +PETKOFF. +(_sitting down and taking a roll_). Go in and say I’ve come; and get me +some fresh coffee. + +NICOLA. +It’s coming, sir. (_He goes to the house door. Louka, with fresh +coffee, a clean cup, and a brandy bottle on her tray meets him._) Have +you told the mistress? + +LOUKA. +Yes: she’s coming. + +(_Nicola goes into the house. Louka brings the coffee to the table._) + +PETKOFF. +Well, the Servians haven’t run away with you, have they? + +LOUKA. +No, sir. + +PETKOFF. +That’s right. Have you brought me some cognac? + +LOUKA. +(_putting the bottle on the table_). Here, sir. + +PETKOFF. +That’s right. (_He pours some into his coffee._) + +(_Catherine who has at this early hour made only a very perfunctory +toilet, and wears a Bulgarian apron over a once brilliant, but now half +worn out red dressing gown, and a colored handkerchief tied over her +thick black hair, with Turkish slippers on her bare feet, comes from +the house, looking astonishingly handsome and stately under all the +circumstances. Louka goes into the house._) + +CATHERINE. +My dear Paul, what a surprise for us. (_She stoops over the back of his +chair to kiss him._) Have they brought you fresh coffee? + +PETKOFF. +Yes, Louka’s been looking after me. The war’s over. The treaty was +signed three days ago at Bucharest; and the decree for our army to +demobilize was issued yesterday. + +CATHERINE. +(_springing erect, with flashing eyes_). The war over! Paul: have you +let the Austrians force you to make peace? + +PETKOFF. +(_submissively_). My dear: they didn’t consult me. What could _I_ do? +(_She sits down and turns away from him._) But of course we saw to it +that the treaty was an honorable one. It declares peace— + +CATHERINE. +(_outraged_). Peace! + +PETKOFF. +(_appeasing her_).—but not friendly relations: remember that. They +wanted to put that in; but I insisted on its being struck out. What +more could I do? + +CATHERINE. +You could have annexed Servia and made Prince Alexander Emperor of the +Balkans. That’s what I would have done. + +PETKOFF. +I don’t doubt it in the least, my dear. But I should have had to subdue +the whole Austrian Empire first; and that would have kept me too long +away from you. I missed you greatly. + +CATHERINE. +(_relenting_). Ah! (_Stretches her hand affectionately across the table +to squeeze his._) + +PETKOFF. +And how have you been, my dear? + +CATHERINE. +Oh, my usual sore throats, that’s all. + +PETKOFF. +(_with conviction_). That comes from washing your neck every day. I’ve +often told you so. + +CATHERINE. +Nonsense, Paul! + +PETKOFF. +(_over his coffee and cigaret_). I don’t believe in going too far with +these modern customs. All this washing can’t be good for the health: +it’s not natural. There was an Englishman at Phillipopolis who used to +wet himself all over with cold water every morning when he got up. +Disgusting! It all comes from the English: their climate makes them so +dirty that they have to be perpetually washing themselves. Look at my +father: he never had a bath in his life; and he lived to be +ninety-eight, the healthiest man in Bulgaria. I don’t mind a good wash +once a week to keep up my position; but once a day is carrying the +thing to a ridiculous extreme. + +CATHERINE. +You are a barbarian at heart still, Paul. I hope you behaved yourself +before all those Russian officers. + +PETKOFF. +I did my best. I took care to let them know that we had a library. + +CATHERINE. +Ah; but you didn’t tell them that we have an electric bell in it? I +have had one put up. + +PETKOFF. +What’s an electric bell? + +CATHERINE. +You touch a button; something tinkles in the kitchen; and then Nicola +comes up. + +PETKOFF. +Why not shout for him? + +CATHERINE. +Civilized people never shout for their servants. I’ve learnt that while +you were away. + +PETKOFF. +Well, I’ll tell you something I’ve learnt, too. Civilized people don’t +hang out their washing to dry where visitors can see it; so you’d +better have all that (_indicating the clothes on the bushes_) put +somewhere else. + +CATHERINE. +Oh, that’s absurd, Paul: I don’t believe really refined people notice +such things. + +(_Someone is heard knocking at the stable gates._) + +PETKOFF. +There’s Sergius. (_Shouting._) Hollo, Nicola! + +CATHERINE. +Oh, don’t shout, Paul: it really isn’t nice. + +PETKOFF. +Bosh! (_He shouts louder than before._) Nicola! + +NICOLA. +(_appearing at the house door_). Yes, sir. + +PETKOFF. +If that is Major Saranoff, bring him round this way. (_He pronounces +the name with the stress on the second syllable—Sarah-noff._) + +NICOLA. +Yes, sir. (_He goes into the stable yard._) + +PETKOFF. +You must talk to him, my dear, until Raina takes him off our hands. He +bores my life out about our not promoting him—over my head, mind you. + +CATHERINE. +He certainly ought to be promoted when he marries Raina. Besides, the +country should insist on having at least one native general. + +PETKOFF. +Yes, so that he could throw away whole brigades instead of regiments. +It’s no use, my dear: he has not the slightest chance of promotion +until we are quite sure that the peace will be a lasting one. + +NICOLA. +(_at the gate, announcing_). Major Sergius Saranoff! (_He goes into the +house and returns presently with a third chair, which he places at the +table. He then withdraws._) + +(_Major Sergius Saranoff, the original of the portrait in Raina’s room, +is a tall, romantically handsome man, with the physical hardihood, the +high spirit, and the susceptible imagination of an untamed mountaineer +chieftain. But his remarkable personal distinction is of a +characteristically civilized type. The ridges of his eyebrows, curving +with a ram’s-horn twist round the marked projections at the outer +corners, his jealously observant eye, his nose, thin, keen, and +apprehensive in spite of the pugnacious high bridge and large nostril, +his assertive chin, would not be out of place in a Paris salon. In +short, the clever, imaginative barbarian has an acute critical faculty +which has been thrown into intense activity by the arrival of western +civilization in the Balkans; and the result is precisely what the +advent of nineteenth-century thought first produced in England: to-wit, +Byronism. By his brooding on the perpetual failure, not only of others, +but of himself, to live up to his imaginative ideals, his consequent +cynical scorn for humanity, the jejune credulity as to the absolute +validity of his ideals and the unworthiness of the world in +disregarding them, his wincings and mockeries under the sting of the +petty disillusions which every hour spent among men brings to his +infallibly quick observation, he has acquired the half tragic, half +ironic air, the mysterious moodiness, the suggestion of a strange and +terrible history that has left him nothing but undying remorse, by +which Childe Harold fascinated the grandmothers of his English +contemporaries. Altogether it is clear that here or nowhere is Raina’s +ideal hero. Catherine is hardly less enthusiastic, and much less +reserved in shewing her enthusiasm. As he enters from the stable gate, +she rises effusively to greet him. Petkoff is distinctly less disposed +to make a fuss about him._) + +PETKOFF. +Here already, Sergius. Glad to see you! + +CATHERINE. +My dear Sergius!(_She holds out both her hands._) + +SERGIUS. +(_kissing them with scrupulous gallantry_). My dear mother, if I may +call you so. + +PETKOFF. +(_drily_). Mother-in-law, Sergius; mother-in-law! Sit down, and have +some coffee. + +SERGIUS. +Thank you, none for me. (_He gets away from the table with a certain +distaste for Petkoff’s enjoyment of it, and posts himself with +conscious grace against the rail of the steps leading to the house._) + +CATHERINE. +You look superb—splendid. The campaign has improved you. Everybody here +is mad about you. We were all wild with enthusiasm about that +magnificent cavalry charge. + +SERGIUS. +(_with grave irony_). Madam: it was the cradle and the grave of my +military reputation. + +CATHERINE. +How so? + +SERGIUS. +I won the battle the wrong way when our worthy Russian generals were +losing it the right way. That upset their plans, and wounded their +self-esteem. Two of their colonels got their regiments driven back on +the correct principles of scientific warfare. Two major-generals got +killed strictly according to military etiquette. Those two colonels are +now major-generals; and I am still a simple major. + +CATHERINE. +You shall not remain so, Sergius. The women are on your side; and they +will see that justice is done you. + +SERGIUS. +It is too late. I have only waited for the peace to send in my +resignation. + +PETKOFF. +(_dropping his cup in his amazement_). Your resignation! + +CATHERINE. +Oh, you must withdraw it! + +SERGIUS. +(_with resolute, measured emphasis, folding his arms_). I never +withdraw! + +PETKOFF. +(_vexed_). Now who could have supposed you were going to do such a +thing? + +SERGIUS. +(_with fire_). Everyone that knew me. But enough of myself and my +affairs. How is Raina; and where is Raina? + +RAINA. +(_suddenly coming round the corner of the house and standing at the top +of the steps in the path_). Raina is here. (_She makes a charming +picture as they all turn to look at her. She wears an underdress of +pale green silk, draped with an overdress of thin ecru canvas +embroidered with gold. On her head she wears a pretty Phrygian cap of +gold tinsel. Sergius, with an exclamation of pleasure, goes impulsively +to meet her. She stretches out her hand: he drops chivalrously on one +knee and kisses it._) + +PETKOFF. +(_aside to Catherine, beaming with parental pride_). Pretty, isn’t it? +She always appears at the right moment. + +CATHERINE. +(_impatiently_). Yes: she listens for it. It is an abominable habit. + +(_Sergius leads Raina forward with splendid gallantry, as if she were a +queen. When they come to the table, she turns to him with a bend of the +head; he bows; and thus they separate, he coming to his place, and she +going behind her father’s chair._) + +RAINA. +(_stooping and kissing her father_). Dear father! Welcome home! + +PETKOFF. +(_patting her cheek_). My little pet girl. (_He kisses her; she goes to +the chair left by Nicola for Sergius, and sits down._) + +CATHERINE. +And so you’re no longer a soldier, Sergius. + +SERGIUS. +I am no longer a soldier. Soldiering, my dear madam, is the coward’s +art of attacking mercilessly when you are strong, and keeping out of +harm’s way when you are weak. That is the whole secret of successful +fighting. Get your enemy at a disadvantage; and never, on any account, +fight him on equal terms. Eh, Major! + +PETKOFF. +They wouldn’t let us make a fair stand-up fight of it. However, I +suppose soldiering has to be a trade like any other trade. + +SERGIUS. +Precisely. But I have no ambition to succeed as a tradesman; so I have +taken the advice of that bagman of a captain that settled the exchange +of prisoners with us at Peerot, and given it up. + +PETKOFF. +What, that Swiss fellow? Sergius: I’ve often thought of that exchange +since. He over-reached us about those horses. + +SERGIUS. +Of course he over-reached us. His father was a hotel and livery stable +keeper; and he owed his first step to his knowledge of horse-dealing. +(_With mock enthusiasm._) Ah, he was a soldier—every inch a soldier! If +only I had bought the horses for my regiment instead of foolishly +leading it into danger, I should have been a field-marshal now! + +CATHERINE. +A Swiss? What was he doing in the Servian army? + +PETKOFF. +A volunteer of course—keen on picking up his profession. (_Chuckling._) +We shouldn’t have been able to begin fighting if these foreigners +hadn’t shewn us how to do it: we knew nothing about it; and neither did +the Servians. Egad, there’d have been no war without them. + +RAINA. +Are there many Swiss officers in the Servian Army? + +PETKOFF. +No—all Austrians, just as our officers were all Russians. This was the +only Swiss I came across. I’ll never trust a Swiss again. He cheated +us—humbugged us into giving him fifty able bodied men for two hundred +confounded worn out chargers. They weren’t even eatable! + +SERGIUS. +We were two children in the hands of that consummate soldier, Major: +simply two innocent little children. + +RAINA. +What was he like? + +CATHERINE. +Oh, Raina, what a silly question! + +SERGIUS. +He was like a commercial traveller in uniform. Bourgeois to his boots. + +PETKOFF. +(_grinning_). Sergius: tell Catherine that queer story his friend told +us about him—how he escaped after Slivnitza. You remember?—about his +being hid by two women. + +SERGIUS. +(_with bitter irony_). Oh, yes, quite a romance. He was serving in the +very battery I so unprofessionally charged. Being a thorough soldier, +he ran away like the rest of them, with our cavalry at his heels. To +escape their attentions, he had the good taste to take refuge in the +chamber of some patriotic young Bulgarian lady. The young lady was +enchanted by his persuasive commercial traveller’s manners. She very +modestly entertained him for an hour or so and then called in her +mother lest her conduct should appear unmaidenly. The old lady was +equally fascinated; and the fugitive was sent on his way in the +morning, disguised in an old coat belonging to the master of the house, +who was away at the war. + +RAINA. +(_rising with marked stateliness_). Your life in the camp has made you +coarse, Sergius. I did not think you would have repeated such a story +before me. (_She turns away coldly._) + +CATHERINE. +(_also rising_). She is right, Sergius. If such women exist, we should +be spared the knowledge of them. + +PETKOFF. +Pooh! nonsense! what does it matter? + +SERGIUS. +(_ashamed_). No, Petkoff: I was wrong. (_To Raina, with earnest +humility._) I beg your pardon. I have behaved abominably. Forgive me, +Raina. (_She bows reservedly._) And you, too, madam. (_Catherine bows +graciously and sits down. He proceeds solemnly, again addressing +Raina._) The glimpses I have had of the seamy side of life during the +last few months have made me cynical; but I should not have brought my +cynicism here—least of all into your presence, Raina. I—(_Here, turning +to the others, he is evidently about to begin a long speech when the +Major interrupts him._) + +PETKOFF. +Stuff and nonsense, Sergius. That’s quite enough fuss about nothing: a +soldier’s daughter should be able to stand up without flinching to a +little strong conversation. (_He rises._) Come: it’s time for us to get +to business. We have to make up our minds how those three regiments are +to get back to Phillipopolis:—there’s no forage for them on the Sofia +route. (_He goes towards the house._) Come along. (_Sergius is about to +follow him when Catherine rises and intervenes._) + +CATHERINE. +Oh, Paul, can’t you spare Sergius for a few moments? Raina has hardly +seen him yet. Perhaps I can help you to settle about the regiments. + +SERGIUS. +(_protesting_). My dear madam, impossible: you— + +CATHERINE. +(_stopping him playfully_). You stay here, my dear Sergius: there’s no +hurry. I have a word or two to say to Paul. (_Sergius instantly bows +and steps back._) Now, dear (_taking Petkoff’s arm_), come and see the +electric bell. + +PETKOFF. +Oh, very well, very well. (_They go into the house together +affectionately. Sergius, left alone with Raina, looks anxiously at her, +fearing that she may be still offended. She smiles, and stretches out +her arms to him._) + +(_Exit R. into house, followed by Catherine._) + +SERGIUS. +(_hastening to her, but refraining from touching her without express +permission_). Am I forgiven? + +RAINA. +(_placing her hands on his shoulder as she looks up at him with +admiration and worship_). My hero! My king. + +SERGIUS. +My queen! (_He kisses her on the forehead with holy awe._) + +RAINA. +How I have envied you, Sergius! You have been out in the world, on the +field of battle, able to prove yourself there worthy of any woman in +the world; whilst I have had to sit at home +inactive,—dreaming—useless—doing nothing that could give me the right +to call myself worthy of any man. + +SERGIUS. +Dearest, all my deeds have been yours. You inspired me. I have gone +through the war like a knight in a tournament with his lady looking on +at him! + +RAINA. +And you have never been absent from my thoughts for a moment. (_Very +solemnly._) Sergius: I think we two have found the higher love. When I +think of you, I feel that I could never do a base deed, or think an +ignoble thought. + +SERGIUS. +My lady, and my saint! (_Clasping her reverently._) + +RAINA. +(_returning his embrace_). My lord and my g— + +SERGIUS. +Sh—sh! Let me be the worshipper, dear. You little know how unworthy +even the best man is of a girl’s pure passion! + +RAINA. +I trust you. I love you. You will never disappoint me, Sergius. (_Louka +is heard singing within the house. They quickly release each other._) +Hush! I can’t pretend to talk indifferently before her: my heart is too +full. (_Louka comes from the house with her tray. She goes to the +table, and begins to clear it, with her back turned to them._) I will +go and get my hat; and then we can go out until lunch time. Wouldn’t +you like that? + +SERGIUS. +Be quick. If you are away five minutes, it will seem five hours. +(_Raina runs to the top of the steps and turns there to exchange a look +with him and wave him a kiss with both hands. He looks after her with +emotion for a moment, then turns slowly away, his face radiant with the +exultation of the scene which has just passed. The movement shifts his +field of vision, into the corner of which there now comes the tail of +Louka’s double apron. His eye gleams at once. He takes a stealthy look +at her, and begins to twirl his moustache nervously, with his left hand +akimbo on his hip. Finally, striking the ground with his heels in +something of a cavalry swagger, he strolls over to the left of the +table, opposite her, and says_) Louka: do you know what the higher love +is? + +LOUKA. +(_astonished_). No, sir. + +SERGIUS. +Very fatiguing thing to keep up for any length of time, Louka. One +feels the need of some relief after it. + +LOUKA. +(_innocently_). Perhaps you would like some coffee, sir? (_She +stretches her hand across the table for the coffee pot._) + +SERGIUS. +(_taking her hand_). Thank you, Louka. + +LOUKA. +(_pretending to pull_). Oh, sir, you know I didn’t mean that. I’m +surprised at you! + +SERGIUS. +(_coming clear of the table and drawing her with him_). I am surprised +at myself, Louka. What would Sergius, the hero of Slivnitza, say if he +saw me now? What would Sergius, the apostle of the higher love, say if +he saw me now? What would the half dozen Sergiuses who keep popping in +and out of this handsome figure of mine say if they caught us here? +(_Letting go her hand and slipping his arm dexterously round her +waist._) Do you consider my figure handsome, Louka? + +LOUKA. +Let me go, sir. I shall be disgraced. (_She struggles: he holds her +inexorably._) Oh, will you let go? + +SERGIUS. +(_looking straight into her eyes_). No. + +LOUKA. +Then stand back where we can’t be seen. Have you no common sense? + +SERGIUS. +Ah, that’s reasonable. (_He takes her into the stableyard gateway, +where they are hidden from the house._) + +LOUKA. +(_complaining_). I may have been seen from the windows: Miss Raina is +sure to be spying about after you. + +SERGIUS. +(_stung—letting her go_). Take care, Louka. I may be worthless enough +to betray the higher love; but do not you insult it. + +LOUKA. +(_demurely_). Not for the world, sir, I’m sure. May I go on with my +work please, now? + +SERGIUS. +(_again putting his arm round her_). You are a provoking little witch, +Louka. If you were in love with me, would you spy out of windows on me? + +LOUKA. +Well, you see, sir, since you say you are half a dozen different +gentlemen all at once, I should have a great deal to look after. + +SERGIUS. +(_charmed_). Witty as well as pretty. (_He tries to kiss her._) + +LOUKA. +(_avoiding him_). No, I don’t want your kisses. Gentlefolk are all +alike—you making love to me behind Miss Raina’s back, and she doing the +same behind yours. + +SERGIUS. +(_recoiling a step_). Louka! + +LOUKA. +It shews how little you really care! + +SERGIUS. +(_dropping his familiarity and speaking with freezing politeness_). If +our conversation is to continue, Louka, you will please remember that a +gentleman does not discuss the conduct of the lady he is engaged to +with her maid. + +LOUKA. +It’s so hard to know what a gentleman considers right. I thought from +your trying to kiss me that you had given up being so particular. + +SERGIUS. +(_turning from her and striking his forehead as he comes back into the +garden from the gateway_). Devil! devil! + +LOUKA. +Ha! ha! I expect one of the six of you is very like me, sir, though I +am only Miss Raina’s maid. (_She goes back to her work at the table, +taking no further notice of him._) + +SERGIUS. +(_speaking to himself_). Which of the six is the real man?—that’s the +question that torments me. One of them is a hero, another a buffoon, +another a humbug, another perhaps a bit of a blackguard. (_He pauses +and looks furtively at Louka, as he adds with deep bitterness_) And +one, at least, is a coward—jealous, like all cowards. (_He goes to the +table._) Louka. + +LOUKA. +Yes? + +SERGIUS. +Who is my rival? + +LOUKA. +You shall never get that out of me, for love or money. + +SERGIUS. +Why? + +LOUKA. +Never mind why. Besides, you would tell that I told you; and I should +lose my place. + +SERGIUS. +(_holding out his right hand in affirmation_). No; on the honor of +a—(_He checks himself, and his hand drops nerveless as he concludes, +sardonically_)—of a man capable of behaving as I have been behaving for +the last five minutes. Who is he? + +LOUKA. +I don’t know. I never saw him. I only heard his voice through the door +of her room. + +SERGIUS. +Damnation! How dare you? + +LOUKA. +(_retreating_). Oh, I mean no harm: you’ve no right to take up my words +like that. The mistress knows all about it. And I tell you that if that +gentleman ever comes here again, Miss Raina will marry him, whether he +likes it or not. I know the difference between the sort of manner you +and she put on before one another and the real manner. (_Sergius +shivers as if she had stabbed him. Then, setting his face like iron, he +strides grimly to her, and grips her above the elbows with both +bands._) + +SERGIUS. +Now listen you to me! + +LOUKA. +(_wincing_). Not so tight: you’re hurting me! + +SERGIUS. +That doesn’t matter. You have stained my honor by making me a party to +your eavesdropping. And you have betrayed your mistress— + +LOUKA. +(_writhing_). Please— + +SERGIUS. +That shews that you are an abominable little clod of common clay, with +the soul of a servant. (_He lets her go as if she were an unclean +thing, and turns away, dusting his hands of her, to the bench by the +wall, where he sits down with averted head, meditating gloomily._) + +LOUKA. +(_whimpering angrily with her hands up her sleeves, feeling her bruised +arms_). You know how to hurt with your tongue as well as with your +hands. But I don’t care, now I’ve found out that whatever clay I’m made +of, you’re made of the same. As for her, she’s a liar; and her fine +airs are a cheat; and I’m worth six of her. (_She shakes the pain off +hardily; tosses her head; and sets to work to put the things on the +tray. He looks doubtfully at her once or twice. She finishes packing +the tray, and laps the cloth over the edges, so as to carry all out +together. As she stoops to lift it, he rises._) + +SERGIUS. +Louka! (_She stops and looks defiantly at him with the tray in her +hands._) A gentleman has no right to hurt a woman under any +circumstances. (_With profound humility, uncovering his head._) I beg +your pardon. + +LOUKA. +That sort of apology may satisfy a lady. Of what use is it to a +servant? + +SERGIUS. +(_thus rudely crossed in his chivalry, throws it off with a bitter +laugh and says slightingly_). Oh, you wish to be paid for the hurt? +(_He puts on his shako, and takes some money from his pocket._) + +LOUKA. +(_her eyes filling with tears in spite of herself_). No, I want my hurt +made well. + +SERGIUS. +(_sobered by her tone_). How? + +(_She rolls up her left sleeve; clasps her arm with the thumb and +fingers of her right hand; and looks down at the bruise. Then she +raises her head and looks straight at him. Finally, with a superb +gesture she presents her arm to be kissed. Amazed, he looks at her; at +the arm; at her again; hesitates; and then, with shuddering intensity, +exclaims_) + +SERGIUS. +Never! (_and gets away as far as possible from her._) + +(_Her arm drops. Without a word, and with unaffected dignity, she takes +her tray, and is approaching the house when Raina returns wearing a hat +and jacket in the height of the Vienna fashion of the previous year, +1885. Louka makes way proudly for her, and then goes into the house._) + +RAINA. +I’m ready! What’s the matter? (_Gaily._) Have you been flirting with +Louka? + +SERGIUS. +(_hastily_). No, no. How can you think such a thing? + +RAINA. +(_ashamed of herself_). Forgive me, dear: it was only a jest. I am so +happy to-day. + +(_He goes quickly to her, and kisses her hand remorsefully. Catherine +comes out and calls to them from the top of the steps._) + +CATHERINE. +(_coming down to them_). I am sorry to disturb you, children; but Paul +is distracted over those three regiments. He does not know how to get +them to Phillipopolis; and he objects to every suggestion of mine. You +must go and help him, Sergius. He is in the library. + +RAINA. +(_disappointed_). But we are just going out for a walk. + +SERGIUS. +I shall not be long. Wait for me just five minutes. (_He runs up the +steps to the door._) + +RAINA. +(_following him to the foot of the steps and looking up at him with +timid coquetry_). I shall go round and wait in full view of the library +windows. Be sure you draw father’s attention to me. If you are a moment +longer than five minutes, I shall go in and fetch you, regiments or no +regiments. + +SERGIUS. +(_laughing_). Very well. (_He goes in. Raina watches him until he is +out of her sight. Then, with a perceptible relaxation of manner, she +begins to pace up and down about the garden in a brown study._) + +CATHERINE. +Imagine their meeting that Swiss and hearing the whole story! The very +first thing your father asked for was the old coat we sent him off in. +A nice mess you have got us into! + +RAINA. +(_gazing thoughtfully at the gravel as she walks_). The little beast! + +CATHERINE. +Little beast! What little beast? + +RAINA. +To go and tell! Oh, if I had him here, I’d stuff him with chocolate +creams till he couldn’t ever speak again! + +CATHERINE. +Don’t talk nonsense. Tell me the truth, Raina. How long was he in your +room before you came to me? + +RAINA. +(_whisking round and recommencing her march in the opposite +direction_). Oh, I forget. + +CATHERINE. +You cannot forget! Did he really climb up after the soldiers were gone, +or was he there when that officer searched the room? + +RAINA. +No. Yes, I think he must have been there then. + +CATHERINE. +You think! Oh, Raina, Raina! Will anything ever make you +straightforward? If Sergius finds out, it is all over between you. + +RAINA. +(_with cool impertinence_). Oh, I know Sergius is your pet. I sometimes +wish you could marry him instead of me. You would just suit him. You +would pet him, and spoil him, and mother him to perfection. + +CATHERINE. +(_opening her eyes very widely indeed_). Well, upon my word! + +RAINA. +(_capriciously—half to herself_). I always feel a longing to do or say +something dreadful to him—to shock his propriety—to scandalize the five +senses out of him! (_To Catherine perversely._) I don’t care whether he +finds out about the chocolate cream soldier or not. I half hope he may. +(_She again turns flippantly away and strolls up the path to the corner +of the house._) + +CATHERINE. +And what should I be able to say to your father, pray? + +RAINA. +(_over her shoulder, from the top of the two steps_). Oh, poor father! +As if he could help himself! (_She turns the corner and passes out of +sight._) + +CATHERINE. +(_looking after her, her fingers itching_). Oh, if you were only ten +years younger! (_Louka comes from the house with a salver, which she +carries hanging down by her side._) Well? + +LOUKA. +There’s a gentleman just called, madam—a Servian officer— + +CATHERINE. +(_flaming_). A Servian! How dare he—(_Checking herself bitterly._) Oh, +I forgot. We are at peace now. I suppose we shall have them calling +every day to pay their compliments. Well, if he is an officer why don’t +you tell your master? He is in the library with Major Saranoff. Why do +you come to me? + +LOUKA. +But he asks for you, madam. And I don’t think he knows who you are: he +said the lady of the house. He gave me this little ticket for you. +(_She takes a card out of her bosom; puts it on the salver and offers +it to Catherine._) + +CATHERINE. +(_reading_). “Captain Bluntschli!” That’s a German name. + +LOUKA. +Swiss, madam, I think. + +CATHERINE. +(_with a bound that makes Louka jump back_). Swiss! What is he like? + +LOUKA. +(_timidly_). He has a big carpet bag, madam. + +CATHERINE. +Oh, Heavens, he’s come to return the coat! Send him away—say we’re not +at home—ask him to leave his address and I’ll write to him—Oh, stop: +that will never do. Wait! (_She throws herself into a chair to think it +out. Louka waits._) The master and Major Saranoff are busy in the +library, aren’t they? + +LOUKA. +Yes, madam. + +CATHERINE. +(_decisively_). Bring the gentleman out here at once. (_Imperatively._) +And be very polite to him. Don’t delay. Here (_impatiently snatching +the salver from her_): leave that here; and go straight back to him. + +LOUKA. +Yes, madam. (_Going._) + +CATHERINE. +Louka! + +LOUKA. +(_stopping_). Yes, madam. + +CATHERINE. +Is the library door shut? + +LOUKA. +I think so, madam. + +CATHERINE. +If not, shut it as you pass through. + +LOUKA. +Yes, madam. (_Going._) + +CATHERINE. +Stop! (_Louka stops._) He will have to go out that way (_indicating the +gate of the stable yard_). Tell Nicola to bring his bag here after him. +Don’t forget. + +LOUKA. +(_surprised_). His bag? + +CATHERINE. +Yes, here, as soon as possible. (_Vehemently._) Be quick! (_Louka runs +into the house. Catherine snatches her apron off and throws it behind a +bush. She then takes up the salver and uses it as a mirror, with the +result that the handkerchief tied round her head follows the apron. A +touch to her hair and a shake to her dressing gown makes her +presentable._) Oh, how—how—how can a man be such a fool! Such a moment +to select! (_Louka appears at the door of the house, announcing +“Captain Bluntschli;” and standing aside at the top of the steps to let +him pass before she goes in again. He is the man of the adventure in +Raina’s room. He is now clean, well brushed, smartly uniformed, and out +of trouble, but still unmistakably the same man. The moment Louka’s +back is turned, Catherine swoops on him with hurried, urgent, coaxing +appeal._) Captain Bluntschli, I am very glad to see you; but you must +leave this house at once. (_He raises his eyebrows._) My husband has +just returned, with my future son-in-law; and they know nothing. If +they did, the consequences would be terrible. You are a foreigner: you +do not feel our national animosities as we do. We still hate the +Servians: the only effect of the peace on my husband is to make him +feel like a lion baulked of his prey. If he discovered our secret, he +would never forgive me; and my daughter’s life would hardly be safe. +Will you, like the chivalrous gentleman and soldier you are, leave at +once before he finds you here? + +BLUNTSCHLI. +(_disappointed, but philosophical_). At once, gracious lady. I only +came to thank you and return the coat you lent me. If you will allow me +to take it out of my bag and leave it with your servant as I pass out, +I need detain you no further. (_He turns to go into the house._) + +CATHERINE. +(_catching him by the sleeve_). Oh, you must not think of going back +that way. (_Coaxing him across to the stable gates._) This is the +shortest way out. Many thanks. So glad to have been of service to you. +Good-bye. + +BLUNTSCHLI. +But my bag? + +CATHERINE. +It will be sent on. You will leave me your address. + +BLUNTSCHLI. +True. Allow me. (_He takes out his card-case, and stops to write his +address, keeping Catherine in an agony of impatience. As he hands her +the card, Petkoff, hatless, rushes from the house in a fluster of +hospitality, followed by Sergius._) + +PETKOFF. +(_as he hurries down the steps_). My dear Captain Bluntschli— + +CATHERINE. +Oh Heavens! (_She sinks on the seat against the wall._) + +PETKOFF. +(_too preoccupied to notice her as he shakes Bluntschli’s hand +heartily_). Those stupid people of mine thought I was out here, instead +of in the—haw!—library. (_He cannot mention the library without +betraying how proud he is of it._) I saw you through the window. I was +wondering why you didn’t come in. Saranoff is with me: you remember +him, don’t you? + +SERGIUS. +(_saluting humorously, and then offering his hand with great charm of +manner_). Welcome, our friend the enemy! + +PETKOFF. +No longer the enemy, happily. (_Rather anxiously._) I hope you’ve come +as a friend, and not on business. + +CATHERINE. +Oh, quite as a friend, Paul. I was just asking Captain Bluntschli to +stay to lunch; but he declares he must go at once. + +SERGIUS. +(_sardonically_). Impossible, Bluntschli. We want you here badly. We +have to send on three cavalry regiments to Phillipopolis; and we don’t +in the least know how to do it. + +BLUNTSCHLI. +(_suddenly attentive and business-like_). Phillipopolis! The forage is +the trouble, eh? + +PETKOFF. +(_eagerly_). Yes, that’s it. (_To Sergius._) He sees the whole thing at +once. + +BLUNTSCHLI. +I think I can shew you how to manage that. + +SERGIUS. +Invaluable man! Come along! (_Towering over Bluntschli, he puts his +hand on his shoulder and takes him to the steps, Petkoff following. As +Bluntschli puts his foot on the first step, Raina comes out of the +house._) + +RAINA. +(_completely losing her presence of mind_). Oh, the chocolate cream +soldier! + +(_Bluntschli stands rigid. Sergius, amazed, looks at Raina, then at +Petkoff, who looks back at him and then at his wife._) + +CATHERINE. +(_with commanding presence of mind_). My dear Raina, don’t you see that +we have a guest here—Captain Bluntschli, one of our new Servian +friends? + +(_Raina bows; Bluntschli bows._) + +RAINA. +How silly of me! (_She comes down into the centre of the group, between +Bluntschli and Petkoff_) I made a beautiful ornament this morning for +the ice pudding; and that stupid Nicola has just put down a pile of +plates on it and spoiled it. (_To Bluntschli, winningly._) I hope you +didn’t think that you were the chocolate cream soldier, Captain +Bluntschli. + +BLUNTSCHLI. +(_laughing_). I assure you I did. (_Stealing a whimsical glance at +her._) Your explanation was a relief. + +PETKOFF. +(_suspiciously, to Raina_). And since when, pray, have you taken to +cooking? + +CATHERINE. +Oh, whilst you were away. It is her latest fancy. + +PETKOFF. +(_testily_). And has Nicola taken to drinking? He used to be careful +enough. First he shews Captain Bluntschli out here when he knew quite +well I was in the—hum!—library; and then he goes downstairs and breaks +Raina’s chocolate soldier. He must—(_At this moment Nicola appears at +the top of the steps R., with a carpet bag. He descends; places it +respectfully before Bluntschli; and waits for further orders. General +amazement. Nicola, unconscious of the effect he is producing, looks +perfectly satisfied with himself. When Petkoff recovers his power of +speech, he breaks out at him with_) Are you mad, Nicola? + +NICOLA. +(_taken aback_). Sir? + +PETKOFF. +What have you brought that for? + +NICOLA. +My lady’s orders, sir. Louka told me that— + +CATHERINE. +(_interrupting him_). My orders! Why should I order you to bring +Captain Bluntschli’s luggage out here? What are you thinking of, +Nicola? + +NICOLA. +(_after a moment’s bewilderment, picking up the bag as he addresses +Bluntschli with the very perfection of servile discretion_). I beg your +pardon, sir, I am sure. (_To Catherine._) My fault, madam! I hope +you’ll overlook it! (_He bows, and is going to the steps with the bag, +when Petkoff addresses him angrily._) + +PETKOFF. +You’d better go and slam that bag, too, down on Miss Raina’s ice +pudding! (_This is too much for Nicola. The bag drops from his hands on +Petkoff’s corns, eliciting a roar of anguish from him._) Begone, you +butter-fingered donkey. + +NICOLA. +(_snatching up the bag, and escaping into the house_). Yes, sir. + +CATHERINE. +Oh, never mind, Paul, don’t be angry! + +PETKOFF. +(_muttering_). Scoundrel. He’s got out of hand while I was away. I’ll +teach him. (_Recollecting his guest._) Oh, well, never mind. Come, +Bluntschli, lets have no more nonsense about you having to go away. You +know very well you’re not going back to Switzerland yet. Until you do +go back you’ll stay with us. + +RAINA. +Oh, do, Captain Bluntschli. + +PETKOFF. +(_to Catherine_). Now, Catherine, it’s of you that he’s afraid. Press +him and he’ll stay. + +CATHERINE. +Of course I shall be only too delighted if (_appealingly_) Captain +Bluntschli really wishes to stay. He knows my wishes. + +BLUNTSCHLI. +(_in his driest military manner_). I am at madame’s orders. + +SERGIUS. +(_cordially_). That settles it! + +PETKOFF. +(_heartily_). Of course! + +RAINA. +You see, you must stay! + +BLUNTSCHLI. +(_smiling_). Well, If I must, I must! (_Gesture of despair from +Catherine._) + + + + +ACT III + + +In the library after lunch. It is not much of a library, its literary +equipment consisting of a single fixed shelf stocked with old +paper-covered novels, broken backed, coffee stained, torn and thumbed, +and a couple of little hanging shelves with a few gift books on them, +the rest of the wall space being occupied by trophies of war and the +chase. But it is a most comfortable sitting-room. A row of three large +windows in the front of the house shew a mountain panorama, which is +just now seen in one of its softest aspects in the mellowing afternoon +light. In the left hand corner, a square earthenware stove, a perfect +tower of colored pottery, rises nearly to the ceiling and guarantees +plenty of warmth. The ottoman in the middle is a circular bank of +decorated cushions, and the window seats are well upholstered divans. +Little Turkish tables, one of them with an elaborate hookah on it, and +a screen to match them, complete the handsome effect of the furnishing. +There is one object, however, which is hopelessly out of keeping with +its surroundings. This is a small kitchen table, much the worse for +wear, fitted as a writing table with an old canister full of pens, an +eggcup filled with ink, and a deplorable scrap of severely used pink +blotting paper. + +At the side of this table, which stands on the right, Bluntschli is +hard at work, with a couple of maps before him, writing orders. At the +head of it sits Sergius, who is also supposed to be at work, but who is +actually gnawing the feather of a pen, and contemplating Bluntschli’s +quick, sure, businesslike progress with a mixture of envious irritation +at his own incapacity, and awestruck wonder at an ability which seems +to him almost miraculous, though its prosaic character forbids him to +esteem it. The major is comfortably established on the ottoman, with a +newspaper in his hand and the tube of the hookah within his reach. +Catherine sits at the stove, with her back to them, embroidering. +Raina, reclining on the divan under the left hand window, is gazing in +a daydream out at the Balkan landscape, with a neglected novel in her +lap. + +The door is on the left. The button of the electric bell is between the +door and the fireplace. + +PETKOFF. +(_looking up from his paper to watch how they are getting on at the +table_). Are you sure I can’t help you in any way, Bluntschli? + +BLUNTSCHLI. +(_without interrupting his writing or looking up_). Quite sure, thank +you. Saranoff and I will manage it. + +SERGIUS. +(_grimly_). Yes: we’ll manage it. He finds out what to do; draws up the +orders; and I sign ’em. Division of labour, Major. (_Bluntschli passes +him a paper._) Another one? Thank you. (_He plants the papers squarely +before him; sets his chair carefully parallel to them; and signs with +the air of a man resolutely performing a difficult and dangerous +feat._) This hand is more accustomed to the sword than to the pen. + +PETKOFF. +It’s very good of you, Bluntschli, it is indeed, to let yourself be put +upon in this way. Now are you quite sure I can do nothing? + +CATHERINE. +(_in a low, warning tone_). You can stop interrupting, Paul. + +PETKOFF. +(_starting and looking round at her_). Eh? Oh! Quite right, my love, +quite right. (_He takes his newspaper up, but lets it drop again._) Ah, +you haven’t been campaigning, Catherine: you don’t know how pleasant it +is for us to sit here, after a good lunch, with nothing to do but enjoy +ourselves. There’s only one thing I want to make me thoroughly +comfortable. + +CATHERINE. +What is that? + +PETKOFF. +My old coat. I’m not at home in this one: I feel as if I were on +parade. + +CATHERINE. +My dear Paul, how absurd you are about that old coat! It must be +hanging in the blue closet where you left it. + +PETKOFF. +My dear Catherine, I tell you I’ve looked there. Am I to believe my own +eyes or not? (_Catherine quietly rises and presses the button of the +electric bell by the fireplace._) What are you shewing off that bell +for? (_She looks at him majestically, and silently resumes her chair +and her needlework._) My dear: if you think the obstinacy of your sex +can make a coat out of two old dressing gowns of Raina’s, your +waterproof, and my mackintosh, you’re mistaken. That’s exactly what the +blue closet contains at present. (_Nicola presents himself._) + +CATHERINE. +(_unmoved by Petkoff’s sally_). Nicola: go to the blue closet and bring +your master’s old coat here—the braided one he usually wears in the +house. + +NICOLA. +Yes, madam. (_Nicola goes out._) + +PETKOFF. +Catherine. + +CATHERINE. +Yes, Paul? + +PETKOFF. +I bet you any piece of jewellery you like to order from Sofia against a +week’s housekeeping money, that the coat isn’t there. + +CATHERINE. +Done, Paul. + +PETKOFF. +(_excited by the prospect of a gamble_). Come: here’s an opportunity +for some sport. Who’ll bet on it? Bluntschli: I’ll give you six to one. + +BLUNTSCHLI. +(_imperturbably_). It would be robbing you, Major. Madame is sure to be +right. (_Without looking up, he passes another batch of papers to +Sergius._) + +SERGIUS. +(_also excited_). Bravo, Switzerland! Major: I bet my best charger +against an Arab mare for Raina that Nicola finds the coat in the blue +closet. + +PETKOFF. +(_eagerly_). Your best char— + +CATHERINE. +(_hastily interrupting him_). Don’t be foolish, Paul. An Arabian mare +will cost you 50,000 levas. + +RAINA. +(_suddenly coming out of her picturesque revery_). Really, mother, if +you are going to take the jewellery, I don’t see why you should grudge +me my Arab. + +(_Nicola comes back with the coat and brings it to Petkoff, who can +hardly believe his eyes._) + +CATHERINE. +Where was it, Nicola? + +NICOLA. +Hanging in the blue closet, madam. + +PETKOFF. +Well, I am d— + +CATHERINE. +(_stopping him_). Paul! + +PETKOFF. +I could have sworn it wasn’t there. Age is beginning to tell on me. I’m +getting hallucinations. (_To Nicola._) Here: help me to change. Excuse +me, Bluntschli. (_He begins changing coats, Nicola acting as valet._) +Remember: I didn’t take that bet of yours, Sergius. You’d better give +Raina that Arab steed yourself, since you’ve roused her expectations. +Eh, Raina? (_He looks round at her; but she is again rapt in the +landscape. With a little gush of paternal affection and pride, he +points her out to them and says_) She’s dreaming, as usual. + +SERGIUS. +Assuredly she shall not be the loser. + +PETKOFF. +So much the better for her. I shan’t come off so cheap, I expect. (_The +change is now complete. Nicola goes out with the discarded coat._) Ah, +now I feel at home at last. (_He sits down and takes his newspaper with +a grunt of relief._) + +BLUNTSCHLI. +(_to Sergius, handing a paper_). That’s the last order. + +PETKOFF. +(_jumping up_). What! finished? + +BLUNTSCHLI. +Finished. (_Petkoff goes beside Sergius; looks curiously over his left +shoulder as he signs; and says with childlike envy_) Haven’t you +anything for me to sign? + +BLUNTSCHLI. +Not necessary. His signature will do. + +PETKOFF. +Ah, well, I think we’ve done a thundering good day’s work. (_He goes +away from the table._) Can I do anything more? + +BLUNTSCHLI. +You had better both see the fellows that are to take these. (_To +Sergius._) Pack them off at once; and shew them that I’ve marked on the +orders the time they should hand them in by. Tell them that if they +stop to drink or tell stories—if they’re five minutes late, they’ll +have the skin taken off their backs. + +SERGIUS. +(_rising indignantly_). I’ll say so. And if one of them is man enough +to spit in my face for insulting him, I’ll buy his discharge and give +him a pension. (_He strides out, his humanity deeply outraged._) + +BLUNTSCHLI. +(_confidentially_). Just see that he talks to them properly, Major, +will you? + +PETKOFF. +(_officiously_). Quite right, Bluntschli, quite right. I’ll see to it. +(_He goes to the door importantly, but hesitates on the threshold._) By +the bye, Catherine, you may as well come, too. They’ll be far more +frightened of you than of me. + +CATHERINE. +(_putting down her embroidery_). I daresay I had better. You will only +splutter at them. (_She goes out, Petkoff holding the door for her and +following her._) + +BLUNTSCHLI. +What a country! They make cannons out of cherry trees; and the officers +send for their wives to keep discipline! (_He begins to fold and docket +the papers. Raina, who has risen from the divan, strolls down the room +with her hands clasped behind her, and looks mischievously at him._) + +RAINA. +You look ever so much nicer than when we last met. (_He looks up, +surprised._) What have you done to yourself? + +BLUNTSCHLI. +Washed; brushed; good night’s sleep and breakfast. That’s all. + +RAINA. +Did you get back safely that morning? + +BLUNTSCHLI. +Quite, thanks. + +RAINA. +Were they angry with you for running away from Sergius’s charge? + +BLUNTSCHLI. +No, they were glad; because they’d all just run away themselves. + +RAINA. +(_going to the table, and leaning over it towards him_). It must have +made a lovely story for them—all that about me and my room. + +BLUNTSCHLI. +Capital story. But I only told it to one of them—a particular friend. + +RAINA. +On whose discretion you could absolutely rely? + +BLUNTSCHLI. +Absolutely. + +RAINA. +Hm! He told it all to my father and Sergius the day you exchanged the +prisoners. (_She turns away and strolls carelessly across to the other +side of the room._) + +BLUNTSCHLI. +(_deeply concerned and half incredulous_). No! you don’t mean that, do +you? + +RAINA. +(_turning, with sudden earnestness_). I do indeed. But they don’t know +that it was in this house that you hid. If Sergius knew, he would +challenge you and kill you in a duel. + +BLUNTSCHLI. +Bless me! then don’t tell him. + +RAINA. +(_full of reproach for his levity_). Can you realize what it is to me +to deceive him? I want to be quite perfect with Sergius—no meanness, no +smallness, no deceit. My relation to him is the one really beautiful +and noble part of my life. I hope you can understand that. + +BLUNTSCHLI. +(_sceptically_). You mean that you wouldn’t like him to find out that +the story about the ice pudding was a—a—a—You know. + +RAINA. +(_wincing_). Ah, don’t talk of it in that flippant way. I lied: I know +it. But I did it to save your life. He would have killed you. That was +the second time I ever uttered a falsehood. (_Bluntschli rises quickly +and looks doubtfully and somewhat severely at her._) Do you remember +the first time? + +BLUNTSCHLI. +I! No. Was I present? + +RAINA. +Yes; and I told the officer who was searching for you that you were not +present. + +BLUNTSCHLI. +True. I should have remembered it. + +RAINA. +(_greatly encouraged_). Ah, it is natural that you should forget it +first. It cost you nothing: it cost me a lie!—a lie!! (_She sits down +on the ottoman, looking straight before her with her hands clasped on +her knee. Bluntschli, quite touched, goes to the ottoman with a +particularly reassuring and considerate air, and sits down beside +her._) + +BLUNTSCHLI. +My dear young lady, don’t let this worry you. Remember: I’m a soldier. +Now what are the two things that happen to a soldier so often that he +comes to think nothing of them? One is hearing people tell lies (_Raina +recoils_): the other is getting his life saved in all sorts of ways by +all sorts of people. + +RAINA. +(_rising in indignant protest_). And so he becomes a creature incapable +of faith and of gratitude. + +BLUNTSCHLI. +(_making a wry face_). Do you like gratitude? I don’t. If pity is akin +to love, gratitude is akin to the other thing. + +RAINA. +Gratitude! (_Turning on him._) If you are incapable of gratitude you +are incapable of any noble sentiment. Even animals are grateful. Oh, I +see now exactly what you think of me! You were not surprised to hear me +lie. To you it was something I probably did every day—every hour. That +is how men think of women. (_She walks up the room melodramatically._) + +BLUNTSCHLI. +(_dubiously_). There’s reason in everything. You said you’d told only +two lies in your whole life. Dear young lady: isn’t that rather a short +allowance? I’m quite a straightforward man myself; but it wouldn’t last +me a whole morning. + +RAINA. +(_staring haughtily at him_). Do you know, sir, that you are insulting +me? + +BLUNTSCHLI. +I can’t help it. When you get into that noble attitude and speak in +that thrilling voice, I admire you; but I find it impossible to believe +a single word you say. + +RAINA. +(_superbly_). Captain Bluntschli! + +BLUNTSCHLI. +(_unmoved_). Yes? + +RAINA. +(_coming a little towards him, as if she could not believe her +senses_). Do you mean what you said just now? Do you know what you said +just now? + +BLUNTSCHLI. +I do. + +RAINA. +(_gasping_). I! I!!! (_She points to herself incredulously, meaning “I, +Raina Petkoff, tell lies!” He meets her gaze unflinchingly. She +suddenly sits down beside him, and adds, with a complete change of +manner from the heroic to the familiar_) How did you find me out? + +BLUNTSCHLI. +(_promptly_). Instinct, dear young lady. Instinct, and experience of +the world. + +RAINA. +(_wonderingly_). Do you know, you are the first man I ever met who did +not take me seriously? + +BLUNTSCHLI. +You mean, don’t you, that I am the first man that has ever taken you +quite seriously? + +RAINA. +Yes, I suppose I do mean that. (_Cosily, quite at her ease with him._) +How strange it is to be talked to in such a way! You know, I’ve always +gone on like that—I mean the noble attitude and the thrilling voice. I +did it when I was a tiny child to my nurse. She believed in it. I do it +before my parents. They believe in it. I do it before Sergius. He +believes in it. + +BLUNTSCHLI. +Yes: he’s a little in that line himself, isn’t he? + +RAINA. +(_startled_). Do you think so? + +BLUNTSCHLI. +You know him better than I do. + +RAINA. +I wonder—I wonder is he? If I thought that—! (_Discouraged._) Ah, well, +what does it matter? I suppose, now that you’ve found me out, you +despise me. + +BLUNTSCHLI. +(_warmly, rising_). No, my dear young lady, no, no, no a thousand +times. It’s part of your youth—part of your charm. I’m like all the +rest of them—the nurse—your parents—Sergius: I’m your infatuated +admirer. + +RAINA. +(_pleased_). Really? + +BLUNTSCHLI. +(_slapping his breast smartly with his hand, German fashion_). Hand +aufs Herz! Really and truly. + +RAINA. +(_very happy_). But what did you think of me for giving you my +portrait? + +BLUNTSCHLI. +(_astonished_). Your portrait! You never gave me your portrait. + +RAINA. +(_quickly_). Do you mean to say you never got it? + +BLUNTSCHLI. +No. (_He sits down beside her, with renewed interest, and says, with +some complacency._) When did you send it to me? + +RAINA. +(_indignantly_). I did not send it to you. (_She turns her head away, +and adds, reluctantly._) It was in the pocket of that coat. + +BLUNTSCHLI. +(_pursing his lips and rounding his eyes_). Oh-o-oh! I never found it. +It must be there still. + +RAINA. +(_springing up_). There still!—for my father to find the first time he +puts his hand in his pocket! Oh, how could you be so stupid? + +BLUNTSCHLI. +(_rising also_). It doesn’t matter: it’s only a photograph: how can he +tell who it was intended for? Tell him he put it there himself. + +RAINA. +(_impatiently_). Yes, that is so clever—so clever! What shall I do? + +BLUNTSCHLI. +Ah, I see. You wrote something on it. That was rash! + +RAINA. +(_annoyed almost to tears_). Oh, to have done such a thing for you, who +care no more—except to laugh at me—oh! Are you sure nobody has touched +it? + +BLUNTSCHLI. +Well, I can’t be quite sure. You see I couldn’t carry it about with me +all the time: one can’t take much luggage on active service. + +RAINA. +What did you do with it? + +BLUNTSCHLI. +When I got through to Peerot I had to put it in safe keeping somehow. I +thought of the railway cloak room; but that’s the surest place to get +looted in modern warfare. So I pawned it. + +RAINA. +Pawned it!!! + +BLUNTSCHLI. +I know it doesn’t sound nice; but it was much the safest plan. I +redeemed it the day before yesterday. Heaven only knows whether the +pawnbroker cleared out the pockets or not. + +RAINA. +(_furious—throwing the words right into his face_). You have a low, +shopkeeping mind. You think of things that would never come into a +gentleman’s head. + +BLUNTSCHLI. +(_phlegmatically_). That’s the Swiss national character, dear lady. + +RAINA. +Oh, I wish I had never met you. (_She flounces away and sits at the +window fuming._) + +(_Louka comes in with a heap of letters and telegrams on her salver, +and crosses, with her bold, free gait, to the table. Her left sleeve is +looped up to the shoulder with a brooch, shewing her naked arm, with a +broad gilt bracelet covering the bruise._) + +LOUKA. +(_to Bluntschli_). For you. (_She empties the salver recklessly on the +table._) The messenger is waiting. (_She is determined not to be civil +to a Servian, even if she must bring him his letters._) + +BLUNTSCHLI. +(_to Raina_). Will you excuse me: the last postal delivery that reached +me was three weeks ago. These are the subsequent accumulations. Four +telegrams—a week old. (_He opens one._) Oho! Bad news! + +RAINA. +(_rising and advancing a little remorsefully_). Bad news? + +BLUNTSCHLI. +My father’s dead. (_He looks at the telegram with his lips pursed, +musing on the unexpected change in his arrangements._) + +RAINA. +Oh, how very sad! + +BLUNTSCHLI. +Yes: I shall have to start for home in an hour. He has left a lot of +big hotels behind him to be looked after. (_Takes up a heavy letter in +a long blue envelope._) Here’s a whacking letter from the family +solicitor. (_He pulls out the enclosures and glances over them._) Great +Heavens! Seventy! Two hundred! (_In a crescendo of dismay._) Four +hundred! Four thousand!! Nine thousand six hundred!!! What on earth +shall I do with them all? + +RAINA. +(_timidly_). Nine thousand hotels? + +BLUNTSCHLI. +Hotels! Nonsense. If you only knew!—oh, it’s too ridiculous! Excuse me: +I must give my fellow orders about starting. (_He leaves the room +hastily, with the documents in his hand._) + +LOUKA. +(_tauntingly_). He has not much heart, that Swiss, though he is so fond +of the Servians. He has not a word of grief for his poor father. + +RAINA. +(_bitterly_). Grief!—a man who has been doing nothing but killing +people for years! What does he care? What does any soldier care? (_She +goes to the door, evidently restraining her tears with difficulty._) + +LOUKA. +Major Saranoff has been fighting, too; and he has plenty of heart left. +(_Raina, at the door, looks haughtily at her and goes out._) Aha! I +thought you wouldn’t get much feeling out of your soldier. (_She is +following Raina when Nicola enters with an armful of logs for the +fire._) + +NICOLA. +(_grinning amorously at her_). I’ve been trying all the afternoon to +get a minute alone with you, my girl. (_His countenance changes as he +notices her arm._) Why, what fashion is that of wearing your sleeve, +child? + +LOUKA. +(_proudly_). My own fashion. + +NICOLA. +Indeed! If the mistress catches you, she’ll talk to you. (_He throws +the logs down on the ottoman, and sits comfortably beside them._) + +LOUKA. +Is that any reason why you should take it on yourself to talk to me? + +NICOLA. +Come: don’t be so contrary with me. I’ve some good news for you. (_He +takes out some paper money. Louka, with an eager gleam in her eyes, +comes close to look at it._) See, a twenty leva bill! Sergius gave me +that out of pure swagger. A fool and his money are soon parted. There’s +ten levas more. The Swiss gave me that for backing up the mistress’s +and Raina’s lies about him. He’s no fool, he isn’t. You should have +heard old Catherine downstairs as polite as you please to me, telling +me not to mind the Major being a little impatient; for they knew what a +good servant I was—after making a fool and a liar of me before them +all! The twenty will go to our savings; and you shall have the ten to +spend if you’ll only talk to me so as to remind me I’m a human being. I +get tired of being a servant occasionally. + +LOUKA. +(_scornfully_). Yes: sell your manhood for thirty levas, and buy me for +ten! Keep your money. You were born to be a servant. I was not. When +you set up your shop you will only be everybody’s servant instead of +somebody’s servant. + +NICOLA. +(_picking up his logs, and going to the stove_). Ah, wait till you see. +We shall have our evenings to ourselves; and I shall be master in my +own house, I promise you. (_He throws the logs down and kneels at the +stove._) + +LOUKA. +You shall never be master in mine. (_She sits down on Sergius’s +chair._) + +NICOLA. +(_turning, still on his knees, and squatting down rather forlornly, on +his calves, daunted by her implacable disdain_). You have a great +ambition in you, Louka. Remember: if any luck comes to you, it was I +that made a woman of you. + +LOUKA. +You! + +NICOLA. +(_with dogged self-assertion_). Yes, me. Who was it made you give up +wearing a couple of pounds of false black hair on your head and +reddening your lips and cheeks like any other Bulgarian girl? I did. +Who taught you to trim your nails, and keep your hands clean, and be +dainty about yourself, like a fine Russian lady? Me! do you hear that? +me! (_She tosses her head defiantly; and he rises, ill-humoredly, +adding more coolly_) I’ve often thought that if Raina were out of the +way, and you just a little less of a fool and Sergius just a little +more of one, you might come to be one of my grandest customers, instead +of only being my wife and costing me money. + +LOUKA. +I believe you would rather be my servant than my husband. You would +make more out of me. Oh, I know that soul of yours. + +NICOLA. +(_going up close to her for greater emphasis_). Never you mind my soul; +but just listen to my advice. If you want to be a lady, your present +behaviour to me won’t do at all, unless when we’re alone. It’s too +sharp and impudent; and impudence is a sort of familiarity: it shews +affection for me. And don’t you try being high and mighty with me +either. You’re like all country girls: you think it’s genteel to treat +a servant the way I treat a stable-boy. That’s only your ignorance; and +don’t you forget it. And don’t be so ready to defy everybody. Act as if +you expected to have your own way, not as if you expected to be ordered +about. The way to get on as a lady is the same as the way to get on as +a servant: you’ve got to know your place; that’s the secret of it. And +you may depend on me to know my place if you get promoted. Think over +it, my girl. I’ll stand by you: one servant should always stand by +another. + +LOUKA. +(_rising impatiently_). Oh, I must behave in my own way. You take all +the courage out of me with your cold-blooded wisdom. Go and put those +logs on the fire: that’s the sort of thing you understand. (_Before +Nicola can retort, Sergius comes in. He checks himself a moment on +seeing Louka; then goes to the stove._) + +SERGIUS. +(_to Nicola_). I am not in the way of your work, I hope. + +NICOLA. +(_in a smooth, elderly manner_). Oh, no, sir, thank you kindly. I was +only speaking to this foolish girl about her habit of running up here +to the library whenever she gets a chance, to look at the books. That’s +the worst of her education, sir: it gives her habits above her station. +(_To Louka._) Make that table tidy, Louka, for the Major. (_He goes out +sedately._) + +(_Louka, without looking at Sergius, begins to arrange the papers on +the table. He crosses slowly to her, and studies the arrangement of her +sleeve reflectively._) + +SERGIUS. +Let me see: is there a mark there? (_He turns up the bracelet and sees +the bruise made by his grasp. She stands motionless, not looking at +him: fascinated, but on her guard._) Ffff! Does it hurt? + +LOUKA. +Yes. + +SERGIUS. +Shall I cure it? + +LOUKA. +(_instantly withdrawing herself proudly, but still not looking at +him_). No. You cannot cure it now. + +SERGIUS. +(_masterfully_). Quite sure? (_He makes a movement as if to take her in +his arms._) + +LOUKA. +Don’t trifle with me, please. An officer should not trifle with a +servant. + +SERGIUS. +(_touching the arm with a merciless stroke of his forefinger_). That +was no trifle, Louka. + +LOUKA. +No. (_Looking at him for the first time._) Are you sorry? + +SERGIUS. +(_with measured emphasis, folding his arms_). I am never sorry. + +LOUKA. +(_wistfully_). I wish I could believe a man could be so unlike a woman +as that. I wonder are you really a brave man? + +SERGIUS. +(_unaffectedly, relaxing his attitude_). Yes: I am a brave man. My +heart jumped like a woman’s at the first shot; but in the charge I +found that I was brave. Yes: that at least is real about me. + +LOUKA. +Did you find in the charge that the men whose fathers are poor like +mine were any less brave than the men who are rich like you? + +SERGIUS. +(_with bitter levity._) Not a bit. They all slashed and cursed and +yelled like heroes. Psha! the courage to rage and kill is cheap. I have +an English bull terrier who has as much of that sort of courage as the +whole Bulgarian nation, and the whole Russian nation at its back. But +he lets my groom thrash him, all the same. That’s your soldier all +over! No, Louka, your poor men can cut throats; but they are afraid of +their officers; they put up with insults and blows; they stand by and +see one another punished like children—-aye, and help to do it when +they are ordered. And the officers!—-well (_with a short, bitter +laugh_) I am an officer. Oh, (_fervently_) give me the man who will +defy to the death any power on earth or in heaven that sets itself up +against his own will and conscience: he alone is the brave man. + +LOUKA. +How easy it is to talk! Men never seem to me to grow up: they all have +schoolboy’s ideas. You don’t know what true courage is. + +SERGIUS. +(_ironically_). Indeed! I am willing to be instructed. + +LOUKA. +Look at me! how much am I allowed to have my own will? I have to get +your room ready for you—to sweep and dust, to fetch and carry. How +could that degrade me if it did not degrade you to have it done for +you? But (_with subdued passion_) if I were Empress of Russia, above +everyone in the world, then—ah, then, though according to you I could +shew no courage at all; you should see, you should see. + +SERGIUS. +What would you do, most noble Empress? + +LOUKA. +I would marry the man I loved, which no other queen in Europe has the +courage to do. If I loved you, though you would be as far beneath me as +I am beneath you, I would dare to be the equal of my inferior. Would +you dare as much if you loved me? No: if you felt the beginnings of +love for me you would not let it grow. You dare not: you would marry a +rich man’s daughter because you would be afraid of what other people +would say of you. + +SERGIUS. +(_carried away_). You lie: it is not so, by all the stars! If I loved +you, and I were the Czar himself, I would set you on the throne by my +side. You know that I love another woman, a woman as high above you as +heaven is above earth. And you are jealous of her. + +LOUKA. +I have no reason to be. She will never marry you now. The man I told +you of has come back. She will marry the Swiss. + +SERGIUS. +(_recoiling_). The Swiss! + +LOUKA. +A man worth ten of you. Then you can come to me; and I will refuse you. +You are not good enough for me. (_She turns to the door._) + +SERGIUS. +(_springing after her and catching her fiercely in his arms_). I will +kill the Swiss; and afterwards I will do as I please with you. + +LOUKA. +(_in his arms, passive and steadfast_). The Swiss will kill you, +perhaps. He has beaten you in love. He may beat you in war. + +SERGIUS. +(_tormentedly_). Do you think I believe that she—she! whose worst +thoughts are higher than your best ones, is capable of trifling with +another man behind my back? + +LOUKA. +Do you think she would believe the Swiss if he told her now that I am +in your arms? + +SERGIUS. +(_releasing her in despair_). Damnation! Oh, damnation! Mockery, +mockery everywhere: everything I think is mocked by everything I do. +(_He strikes himself frantically on the breast._) Coward, liar, fool! +Shall I kill myself like a man, or live and pretend to laugh at myself? +(_She again turns to go._) Louka! (_She stops near the door._) +Remember: you belong to me. + +LOUKA. +(_quietly_). What does that mean—an insult? + +SERGIUS. +(_commandingly_). It means that you love me, and that I have had you +here in my arms, and will perhaps have you there again. Whether that is +an insult I neither know nor care: take it as you please. But +(_vehemently_) I will not be a coward and a trifler. If I choose to +love you, I dare marry you, in spite of all Bulgaria. If these hands +ever touch you again, they shall touch my affianced bride. + +LOUKA. +We shall see whether you dare keep your word. But take care. I will not +wait long. + +SERGIUS. +(_again folding his arms and standing motionless in the middle of the +room_). Yes, we shall see. And you shall wait my pleasure. + +(_Bluntschli, much preoccupied, with his papers still in his hand, +enters, leaving the door open for Louka to go out. He goes across to +the table, glancing at her as he passes. Sergius, without altering his +resolute attitude, watches him steadily. Louka goes out, leaving the +door open._) + +BLUNTSCHLI. +(_absently, sitting at the table as before, and putting down his +papers_). That’s a remarkable looking young woman. + +SERGIUS. +(_gravely, without moving_). Captain Bluntschli. + +BLUNTSCHLI. +Eh? + +SERGIUS. +You have deceived me. You are my rival. I brook no rivals. At six +o’clock I shall be in the drilling-ground on the Klissoura road, alone, +on horseback, with my sabre. Do you understand? + +BLUNTSCHLI. +(_staring, but sitting quite at his ease_). Oh, thank you: that’s a +cavalry man’s proposal. I’m in the artillery; and I have the choice of +weapons. If I go, I shall take a machine gun. And there shall be no +mistake about the cartridges this time. + +SERGIUS. +(_flushing, but with deadly coldness_). Take care, sir. It is not our +custom in Bulgaria to allow invitations of that kind to be trifled +with. + +BLUNTSCHLI. +(_warmly_). Pooh! don’t talk to me about Bulgaria. You don’t know what +fighting is. But have it your own way. Bring your sabre along. I’ll +meet you. + +SERGIUS. +(_fiercely delighted to find his opponent a man of spirit_). Well said, +Switzer. Shall I lend you my best horse? + +BLUNTSCHLI. +No: damn your horse!—-thank you all the same, my dear fellow. (_Raina +comes in, and hears the next sentence._) I shall fight you on foot. +Horseback’s too dangerous: I don’t want to kill you if I can help it. + +RAINA. +(_hurrying forward anxiously_). I have heard what Captain Bluntschli +said, Sergius. You are going to fight. Why? (_Sergius turns away in +silence, and goes to the stove, where he stands watching her as she +continues, to Bluntschli_) What about? + +BLUNTSCHLI. +I don’t know: he hasn’t told me. Better not interfere, dear young lady. +No harm will be done: I’ve often acted as sword instructor. He won’t be +able to touch me; and I’ll not hurt him. It will save explanations. In +the morning I shall be off home; and you’ll never see me or hear of me +again. You and he will then make it up and live happily ever after. + +RAINA. +(_turning away deeply hurt, almost with a sob in her voice_). I never +said I wanted to see you again. + +SERGIUS. +(_striding forward_). Ha! That is a confession. + +RAINA. +(_haughtily_). What do you mean? + +SERGIUS. +You love that man! + +RAINA. +(_scandalized_). Sergius! + +SERGIUS. +You allow him to make love to you behind my back, just as you accept me +as your affianced husband behind his. Bluntschli: you knew our +relations; and you deceived me. It is for that that I call you to +account, not for having received favours that I never enjoyed. + +BLUNTSCHLI. +(_jumping up indignantly_). Stuff! Rubbish! I have received no favours. +Why, the young lady doesn’t even know whether I’m married or not. + +RAINA. +(_forgetting herself_). Oh! (_Collapsing on the ottoman._) Are you? + +SERGIUS. +You see the young lady’s concern, Captain Bluntschli. Denial is +useless. You have enjoyed the privilege of being received in her own +room, late at night— + +BLUNTSCHLI. +(_interrupting him pepperily_). Yes; you blockhead! She received me +with a pistol at her head. Your cavalry were at my heels. I’d have +blown out her brains if she’d uttered a cry. + +SERGIUS. +(_taken aback_). Bluntschli! Raina: is this true? + +RAINA. +(_rising in wrathful majesty_). Oh, how dare you, how dare you? + +BLUNTSCHLI. +Apologize, man, apologize! (_He resumes his seat at the table._) + +SERGIUS. +(_with the old measured emphasis, folding his arms_). I never +apologize. + +RAINA. +(_passionately_). This is the doing of that friend of yours, Captain +Bluntschli. It is he who is spreading this horrible story about me. +(_She walks about excitedly._) + +BLUNTSCHLI. +No: he’s dead—burnt alive. + +RAINA. +(_stopping, shocked_). Burnt alive! + +BLUNTSCHLI. +Shot in the hip in a wood yard. Couldn’t drag himself out. Your +fellows’ shells set the timber on fire and burnt him, with half a dozen +other poor devils in the same predicament. + +RAINA. +How horrible! + +SERGIUS. +And how ridiculous! Oh, war! war! the dream of patriots and heroes! A +fraud, Bluntschli, a hollow sham, like love. + +RAINA. +(_outraged_). Like love! You say that before me. + +BLUNTSCHLI. +Come, Saranoff: that matter is explained. + +SERGIUS. +A hollow sham, I say. Would you have come back here if nothing had +passed between you, except at the muzzle of your pistol? Raina is +mistaken about our friend who was burnt. He was not my informant. + +RAINA. +Who then? (_Suddenly guessing the truth._) Ah, Louka! my maid, my +servant! You were with her this morning all that time after—-after—-Oh, +what sort of god is this I have been worshipping! (_He meets her gaze +with sardonic enjoyment of her disenchantment. Angered all the more, +she goes closer to him, and says, in a lower, intenser tone_) Do you +know that I looked out of the window as I went upstairs, to have +another sight of my hero; and I saw something that I did not understand +then. I know now that you were making love to her. + +SERGIUS. +(_with grim humor_). You saw that? + +RAINA. +Only too well. (_She turns away, and throws herself on the divan under +the centre window, quite overcome._) + +SERGIUS. +(_cynically_). Raina: our romance is shattered. Life’s a farce. + +BLUNTSCHLI. +(_to Raina, goodhumoredly_). You see: he’s found himself out now. + +SERGIUS. +Bluntschli: I have allowed you to call me a blockhead. You may now call +me a coward as well. I refuse to fight you. Do you know why? + +BLUNTSCHLI. +No; but it doesn’t matter. I didn’t ask the reason when you cried on; +and I don’t ask the reason now that you cry off. I’m a professional +soldier. I fight when I have to, and am very glad to get out of it when +I haven’t to. You’re only an amateur: you think fighting’s an +amusement. + +SERGIUS. +You shall hear the reason all the same, my professional. The reason is +that it takes two men—real men—men of heart, blood and honor—to make a +genuine combat. I could no more fight with you than I could make love +to an ugly woman. You’ve no magnetism: you’re not a man, you’re a +machine. + +BLUNTSCHLI. +(_apologetically_). Quite true, quite true. I always was that sort of +chap. I’m very sorry. But now that you’ve found that life isn’t a +farce, but something quite sensible and serious, what further obstacle +is there to your happiness? + +RAINA. +(_riling_). You are very solicitous about my happiness and his. Do you +forget his new love—Louka? It is not you that he must fight now, but +his rival, Nicola. + +SERGIUS. +Rival!! (_Striking his forehead._) + +RAINA. +Did you not know that they are engaged? + +SERGIUS. +Nicola! Are fresh abysses opening! Nicola!! + +RAINA. +(_sarcastically_). A shocking sacrifice, isn’t it? Such beauty, such +intellect, such modesty, wasted on a middle-aged servant man! Really, +Sergius, you cannot stand by and allow such a thing. It would be +unworthy of your chivalry. + +SERGIUS. +(_losing all self-control_). Viper! Viper! (_He rushes to and fro, +raging._) + +BLUNTSCHLI. +Look here, Saranoff; you’re getting the worst of this. + +RAINA. +(_getting angrier_). Do you realize what he has done, Captain +Bluntschli? He has set this girl as a spy on us; and her reward is that +he makes love to her. + +SERGIUS. +False! Monstrous! + +RAINA. +Monstrous! (_Confronting him._) Do you deny that she told you about +Captain Bluntschli being in my room? + +SERGIUS. +No; but— + +RAINA. +(_interrupting_). Do you deny that you were making love to her when she +told you? + +SERGIUS. +No; but I tell you— + +RAINA. +(_cutting him short contemptuously_). It is unnecessary to tell us +anything more. That is quite enough for us. (_She turns her back on him +and sweeps majestically back to the window._) + +BLUNTSCHLI. +(_quietly, as Sergius, in an agony of mortification, sinks on the +ottoman, clutching his averted head between his fists_). I told you you +were getting the worst of it, Saranoff. + +SERGIUS. +Tiger cat! + +RAINA. +(_running excitedly to Bluntschli_). You hear this man calling me +names, Captain Bluntschli? + +BLUNTSCHLI. +What else can he do, dear lady? He must defend himself somehow. Come +(_very persuasively_), don’t quarrel. What good does it do? (_Raina, +with a gasp, sits down on the ottoman, and after a vain effort to look +vexedly at Bluntschli, she falls a victim to her sense of humor, and is +attacked with a disposition to laugh._) + +SERGIUS. +Engaged to Nicola! (_He rises._) Ha! ha! (_Going to the stove and +standing with his back to it._) Ah, well, Bluntschli, you are right to +take this huge imposture of a world coolly. + +RAINA. +(_to Bluntschli with an intuitive guess at his state of mind_). I +daresay you think us a couple of grown up babies, don’t you? + +SERGIUS. +(_grinning a little_). He does, he does. Swiss civilization +nursetending Bulgarian barbarism, eh? + +BLUNTSCHLI. +(_blushing_). Not at all, I assure you. I’m only very glad to get you +two quieted. There now, let’s be pleasant and talk it over in a +friendly way. Where is this other young lady? + +RAINA. +Listening at the door, probably. + +SERGIUS. +(_shivering as if a bullet had struck him, and speaking with quiet but +deep indignation_). I will prove that that, at least, is a calumny. +(_He goes with dignity to the door and opens it. A yell of fury bursts +from him as he looks out. He darts into the passage, and returns +dragging in Louka, whom he flings against the table, R., as he cries_) +Judge her, Bluntschli—you, the moderate, cautious man: judge the +eavesdropper. + +(_Louka stands her ground, proud and silent._) + +BLUNTSCHLI. +(_shaking his head_). I mustn’t judge her. I once listened myself +outside a tent when there was a mutiny brewing. It’s all a question of +the degree of provocation. My life was at stake. + +LOUKA. +My love was at stake. (_Sergius flinches, ashamed of her in spite of +himself._) I am not ashamed. + +RAINA. +(_contemptuously_). Your love! Your curiosity, you mean. + +LOUKA. +(_facing her and retorting her contempt with interest_). My love, +stronger than anything you can feel, even for your chocolate cream +soldier. + +SERGIUS. +(_with quick suspicion—to Louka_). What does that mean? + +LOUKA. +(_fiercely_). It means— + +SERGIUS. +(_interrupting her slightingly_). Oh, I remember, the ice pudding. A +paltry taunt, girl. + +(_Major Petkoff enters, in his shirtsleeves._) + +PETKOFF. +Excuse my shirtsleeves, gentlemen. Raina: somebody has been wearing +that coat of mine: I’ll swear it—somebody with bigger shoulders than +mine. It’s all burst open at the back. Your mother is mending it. I +wish she’d make haste. I shall catch cold. (_He looks more attentively +at them._) Is anything the matter? + +RAINA. +No. (_She sits down at the stove with a tranquil air._) + +SERGIUS. +Oh, no! (_He sits down at the end of the table, as at first._) + +BLUNTSCHLI. +(_who is already seated_). Nothing, nothing. + +PETKOFF. +(_sitting down on the ottoman in his old place_). That’s all right. +(_He notices Louka._) Anything the matter, Louka? + +LOUKA. +No, sir. + +PETKOFF. +(_genially_). That’s all right. (_He sneezes._) Go and ask your +mistress for my coat, like a good girl, will you? (_She turns to obey; +but Nicola enters with the coat; and she makes a pretence of having +business in the room by taking the little table with the hookah away to +the wall near the windows._) + +RAINA. +(_rising quickly, as she sees the coat on Nicola’s arm_). Here it is, +papa. Give it to me, Nicola; and do you put some more wood on the fire. +(_She takes the coat, and brings it to the Major, who stands up to put +it on. Nicola attends to the fire._) + +PETKOFF. +(_to Raina, teasing her affectionately_). Aha! Going to be very good to +poor old papa just for one day after his return from the wars, eh? + +RAINA. +(_with solemn reproach_). Ah, how can you say that to me, father? + +PETKOFF. +Well, well, only a joke, little one. Come, give me a kiss. (_She kisses +him._) Now give me the coat. + +RAINA. +Now, I am going to put it on for you. Turn your back. (_He turns his +back and feels behind him with his arms for the sleeves. She +dexterously takes the photograph from the pocket and throws it on the +table before Bluntschli, who covers it with a sheet of paper under the +very nose of Sergius, who looks on amazed, with his suspicions roused +in the highest degree. She then helps Petkoff on with his coat._) +There, dear! Now are you comfortable? + +PETKOFF. +Quite, little love. Thanks. (_He sits down; and Raina returns to her +seat near the stove._) Oh, by the bye, I’ve found something funny. +What’s the meaning of this? (_He put his hand into the picked pocket._) +Eh? Hallo! (_He tries the other pocket._) Well, I could have +sworn—(_Much puzzled, he tries the breast pocket._) I wonder—(_Tries +the original pocket._) Where can it—(_A light flashes on him; he rises, +exclaiming_) Your mother’s taken it. + +RAINA. +(_very red_). Taken what? + +PETKOFF. +Your photograph, with the inscription: “Raina, to her Chocolate Cream +Soldier—a souvenir.” Now you know there’s something more in this than +meets the eye; and I’m going to find it out. (_Shouting_) Nicola! + +NICOLA. +(_dropping a log, and turning_). Sir! + +PETKOFF. +Did you spoil any pastry of Miss Raina’s this morning? + +NICOLA. +You heard Miss Raina say that I did, sir. + +PETKOFF. +I know that, you idiot. Was it true? + +NICOLA. +I am sure Miss Raina is incapable of saying anything that is not true, +sir. + +PETKOFF. +Are you? Then I’m not. (_Turning to the others._) Come: do you think I +don’t see it all? (_Goes to Sergius, and slaps him on the shoulder._) +Sergius: you’re the chocolate cream soldier, aren’t you? + +SERGIUS. +(_starting up_). I! a chocolate cream soldier! Certainly not. + +PETKOFF. +Not! (_He looks at them. They are all very serious and very +conscious._) Do you mean to tell me that Raina sends photographic +souvenirs to other men? + +SERGIUS. +(_enigmatically_). The world is not such an innocent place as we used +to think, Petkoff. + +BLUNTSCHLI. +(_rising_). It’s all right, Major. I’m the chocolate cream soldier. +(_Petkoff and Sergius are equally astonished._) The gracious young lady +saved my life by giving me chocolate creams when I was starving—shall I +ever forget their flavour! My late friend Stolz told you the story at +Peerot. I was the fugitive. + +PETKOFF. +You! (_He gasps._) Sergius: do you remember how those two women went on +this morning when we mentioned it? (_Sergius smiles cynically. Petkoff +confronts Raina severely._) You’re a nice young woman, aren’t you? + +RAINA. +(_bitterly_). Major Saranoff has changed his mind. And when I wrote +that on the photograph, I did not know that Captain Bluntschli was +married. + +BLUNTSCHLI. +(_much startled protesting vehemently_). I’m not married. + +RAINA. +(_with deep reproach_). You said you were. + +BLUNTSCHLI. +I did not. I positively did not. I never was married in my life. + +PETKOFF. +(_exasperated_). Raina: will you kindly inform me, if I am not asking +too much, which gentleman you are engaged to? + +RAINA. +To neither of them. This young lady (_introducing Louka, who faces them +all proudly_) is the object of Major Saranoff’s affections at present. + +PETKOFF. +Louka! Are you mad, Sergius? Why, this girl’s engaged to Nicola. + +NICOLA. +(_coming forward _). I beg your pardon, sir. There is a mistake. Louka +is not engaged to me. + +PETKOFF. +Not engaged to you, you scoundrel! Why, you had twenty-five levas from +me on the day of your betrothal; and she had that gilt bracelet from +Miss Raina. + +NICOLA. +(_with cool unction_). We gave it out so, sir. But it was only to give +Louka protection. She had a soul above her station; and I have been no +more than her confidential servant. I intend, as you know, sir, to set +up a shop later on in Sofia; and I look forward to her custom and +recommendation should she marry into the nobility. (_He goes out with +impressive discretion, leaving them all staring after him._) + +PETKOFF. +(_breaking the silence_). Well, I am—-hm! + +SERGIUS. +This is either the finest heroism or the most crawling baseness. Which +is it, Bluntschli? + +BLUNTSCHLI. +Never mind whether it’s heroism or baseness. Nicola’s the ablest man +I’ve met in Bulgaria. I’ll make him manager of a hotel if he can speak +French and German. + +LOUKA. +(_suddenly breaking out at Sergius_). I have been insulted by everyone +here. You set them the example. You owe me an apology. (_Sergius +immediately, like a repeating clock of which the spring has been +touched, begins to fold his arms._) + +BLUNTSCHLI. +(_before he can speak_). It’s no use. He never apologizes. + +LOUKA. +Not to you, his equal and his enemy. To me, his poor servant, he will +not refuse to apologize. + +SERGIUS. +(_approvingly_). You are right. (_He bends his knee in his grandest +manner._) Forgive me! + +LOUKA. +I forgive you. (_She timidly gives him her hand, which he kisses._) +That touch makes me your affianced wife. + +SERGIUS. +(_springing up_). Ah, I forgot that! + +LOUKA. +(_coldly_). You can withdraw if you like. + +SERGIUS. +Withdraw! Never! You belong to me! (_He puts his arm about her and +draws her to him._) (_Catherine comes in and finds Louka in Sergius’s +arms, and all the rest gazing at them in bewildered astonishment._) + +CATHERINE. +What does this mean? (_Sergius releases Louka._) + +PETKOFF. +Well, my dear, it appears that Sergius is going to marry Louka instead +of Raina. (_She is about to break out indignantly at him: he stops her +by exclaiming testily._) Don’t blame me: I’ve nothing to do with it. +(_He retreats to the stove._) + +CATHERINE. +Marry Louka! Sergius: you are bound by your word to us! + +SERGIUS. +(_folding his arms_). Nothing binds me. + +BLUNTSCHLI. +(_much pleased by this piece of common sense_). Saranoff: your hand. My +congratulations. These heroics of yours have their practical side after +all. (_To Louka._) Gracious young lady: the best wishes of a good +Republican! (_He kisses her hand, to Raina’s great disgust._) + +CATHERINE. +(_threateningly_). Louka: you have been telling stories. + +LOUKA. +I have done Raina no harm. + +CATHERINE. +(_haughtily_). Raina! (_Raina is equally indignant at the liberty._) + +LOUKA. +I have a right to call her Raina: she calls me Louka. I told Major +Saranoff she would never marry him if the Swiss gentleman came back. + +BLUNTSCHLI. +(_surprised_). Hallo! + +LOUKA. +(_turning to Raina_). I thought you were fonder of him than of Sergius. +You know best whether I was right. + +BLUNTSCHLI. +What nonsense! I assure you, my dear Major, my dear Madame, the +gracious young lady simply saved my life, nothing else. She never cared +two straws for me. Why, bless my heart and soul, look at the young lady +and look at me. She, rich, young, beautiful, with her imagination full +of fairy princes and noble natures and cavalry charges and goodness +knows what! And I, a common-place Swiss soldier who hardly knows what a +decent life is after fifteen years of barracks and battles—a vagabond—a +man who has spoiled all his chances in life through an incurably +romantic disposition—a man— + +SERGIUS. +(_starting as if a needle had pricked him and interrupting Bluntschli +in incredulous amazement_). Excuse me, Bluntschli: what did you say had +spoiled your chances in life? + +BLUNTSCHLI. +(_promptly_). An incurably romantic disposition. I ran away from home +twice when I was a boy. I went into the army instead of into my +father’s business. I climbed the balcony of this house when a man of +sense would have dived into the nearest cellar. I came sneaking back +here to have another look at the young lady when any other man of my +age would have sent the coat back— + +PETKOFF. +My coat! + +BLUNTSCHLI.—Yes: that’s the coat I mean—would have sent it back and +gone quietly home. Do you suppose I am the sort of fellow a young girl +falls in love with? Why, look at our ages! I’m thirty-four: I don’t +suppose the young lady is much over seventeen. (_This estimate produces +a marked sensation, all the rest turning and staring at one another. He +proceeds innocently._) All that adventure which was life or death to +me, was only a schoolgirl’s game to her—chocolate creams and hide and +seek. Here’s the proof! (_He takes the photograph from the table._) +Now, I ask you, would a woman who took the affair seriously have sent +me this and written on it: “Raina, to her chocolate cream soldier—a +souvenir”? (_He exhibits the photograph triumphantly, as if it settled +the matter beyond all possibility of refutation._) + +PETKOFF. +That’s what I was looking for. How the deuce did it get there? + +BLUNTSCHLI. +(_to Raina complacently_). I have put everything right, I hope, +gracious young lady! + +RAINA. +(_in uncontrollable vexation_). I quite agree with your account of +yourself. You are a romantic idiot. (_Bluntschli is unspeakably taken +aback._) Next time I hope you will know the difference between a +schoolgirl of seventeen and a woman of twenty-three. + +BLUNTSCHLI. +(_stupefied_). Twenty-three! (_She snaps the photograph contemptuously +from his hand; tears it across; and throws the pieces at his feet._) + +SERGIUS. +(_with grim enjoyment of Bluntschli’s discomfiture_). Bluntschli: my +one last belief is gone. Your sagacity is a fraud, like all the other +things. You have less sense than even I have. + +BLUNTSCHLI. +(_overwhelmed_). Twenty-three! Twenty-three!! (_He considers._) Hm! +(_Swiftly making up his mind._) In that case, Major Petkoff, I beg to +propose formally to become a suitor for your daughter’s hand, in place +of Major Saranoff retired. + +RAINA. +You dare! + +BLUNTSCHLI. +If you were twenty-three when you said those things to me this +afternoon, I shall take them seriously. + +CATHERINE. +(_loftily polite_). I doubt, sir, whether you quite realize either my +daughter’s position or that of Major Sergius Saranoff, whose place you +propose to take. The Petkoffs and the Saranoffs are known as the +richest and most important families in the country. Our position is +almost historical: we can go back for nearly twenty years. + +PETKOFF. +Oh, never mind that, Catherine. (_To Bluntschli._) We should be most +happy, Bluntschli, if it were only a question of your position; but +hang it, you know, Raina is accustomed to a very comfortable +establishment. Sergius keeps twenty horses. + +BLUNTSCHLI. +But what on earth is the use of twenty horses? Why, it’s a circus. + +CATHERINE. +(_severely_). My daughter, sir, is accustomed to a first-rate stable. + +RAINA. +Hush, mother, you’re making me ridiculous. + +BLUNTSCHLI. +Oh, well, if it comes to a question of an establishment, here goes! +(_He goes impetuously to the table and seizes the papers in the blue +envelope._) How many horses did you say? + +SERGIUS. +Twenty, noble Switzer! + +BLUNTSCHLI. +I have two hundred horses. (_They are amazed._) How many carriages? + +SERGIUS. +Three. + +BLUNTSCHLI. +I have seventy. Twenty-four of them will hold twelve inside, besides +two on the box, without counting the driver and conductor. How many +tablecloths have you? + +SERGIUS. +How the deuce do I know? + +BLUNTSCHLI. +Have you four thousand? + +SERGIUS. +NO. + +BLUNTSCHLI. +I have. I have nine thousand six hundred pairs of sheets and blankets, +with two thousand four hundred eider-down quilts. I have ten thousand +knives and forks, and the same quantity of dessert spoons. I have six +hundred servants. I have six palatial establishments, besides two +livery stables, a tea garden and a private house. I have four medals +for distinguished services; I have the rank of an officer and the +standing of a gentleman; and I have three native languages. Show me any +man in Bulgaria that can offer as much. + +PETKOFF. +(_with childish awe_). Are you Emperor of Switzerland? + +BLUNTSCHLI. +My rank is the highest known in Switzerland: I’m a free citizen. + +CATHERINE. +Then Captain Bluntschli, since you are my daughter’s choice, I shall +not stand in the way of her happiness. (_Petkoff is about to speak._) +That is Major Petkoff’s feeling also. + +PETKOFF. +Oh, I shall be only too glad. Two hundred horses! Whew! + +SERGIUS. +What says the lady? + +RAINA. +(_pretending to sulk_). The lady says that he can keep his tablecloths +and his omnibuses. I am not here to be sold to the highest bidder. + +BLUNTSCHLI. +I won’t take that answer. I appealed to you as a fugitive, a beggar, +and a starving man. You accepted me. You gave me your hand to kiss, +your bed to sleep in, and your roof to shelter me— + +RAINA. +(_interrupting him_). I did not give them to the Emperor of +Switzerland! + +BLUNTSCHLI. +That’s just what I say. (_He catches her hand quickly and looks her +straight in the face as he adds, with confident mastery_) Now tell us +who you did give them to. + +RAINA. +(_succumbing with a shy smile_). To my chocolate cream soldier! + +BLUNTSCHLI. +(_with a boyish laugh of delight_). That’ll do. Thank you. (_Looks at +his watch and suddenly becomes businesslike._) Time’s up, Major. You’ve +managed those regiments so well that you are sure to be asked to get +rid of some of the Infantry of the Teemok division. Send them home by +way of Lom Palanka. Saranoff: don’t get married until I come back: I +shall be here punctually at five in the evening on Tuesday fortnight. +Gracious ladies—good evening. (_He makes them a military bow, and +goes._) + +SERGIUS. +What a man! What a man! + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ARMS AND THE MAN *** + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the +United States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ +concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, +and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following +the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use +of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for +copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very +easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation +of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project +Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away--you may +do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected +by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark +license, especially commercial redistribution. + +START: FULL LICENSE + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full +Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at +www.gutenberg.org/license. + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project +Gutenberg™ electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™ +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or +destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your +possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a +Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound +by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the +person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph +1.E.8. + +1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this +agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™ +electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the +Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection +of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual +works in the collection are in the public domain in the United +States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the +United States and you are located in the United States, we do not +claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, +displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as +all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope +that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting +free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™ +works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the +Project Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily +comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the +same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when +you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are +in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, +check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this +agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, +distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any +other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no +representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any +country other than the United States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other +immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear +prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work +on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the +phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, +performed, viewed, copied or distributed: + + This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and + most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no + restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it + under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this + eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the + United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where + you are located before using this eBook. + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is +derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not +contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the +copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in +the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are +redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply +either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or +obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™ +trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any +additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms +will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works +posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the +beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™ +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg™ License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including +any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access +to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format +other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official +version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website +(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense +to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means +of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain +Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the +full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works +provided that: + +• You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed + to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has + agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project + Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid + within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are + legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty + payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project + Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in + Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg + Literary Archive Foundation.” + +• You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ + License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all + copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue + all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™ + works. + +• You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of + any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of + receipt of the work. + +• You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project +Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than +are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing +from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of +the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set +forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project +Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™ +electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may +contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate +or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other +intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or +other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or +cannot be read by your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right +of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium +with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you +with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in +lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person +or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second +opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If +the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing +without further opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO +OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of +damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement +violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the +agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or +limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or +unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the +remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in +accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the +production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ +electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, +including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of +the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this +or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or +additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any +Defect you cause. + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™ + +Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of +computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It +exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations +from people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™'s +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future +generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see +Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at +www.gutenberg.org. + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by +U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, +Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up +to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website +and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact. + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without +widespread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND +DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular +state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate. + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To +donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate. + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project +Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be +freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and +distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of +volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in +the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not +necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper +edition. + +Most people start at our website which has the main PG search +facility: www.gutenberg.org. + +This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + diff --git a/3618-h/3618-h.htm b/3618-h/3618-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..21d5b6e --- /dev/null +++ b/3618-h/3618-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5899 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="content-type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Arms and the Man, by George Bernard Shaw</title> +<link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> +<style type="text/css"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} + +.no-break {page-break-before: avoid;} /* for epubs */ + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +p.right {text-align: right; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.dialog {text-indent: 0%; + margin-top: 0.5em; + margin-bottom: 0em;} + +p.stage {text-indent: 0%; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-left: 10%;} + +div.fig { display:block; + margin:0 auto; + text-align:center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em;} + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +</style> + +</head> + +<body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Arms and the Man, by George Bernard Shaw</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Arms and the Man</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: George Bernard Shaw</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: June 17, 2001 [eBook #3618]<br /> +[Most recently updated: December 1, 2023]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Jim Tinsley with help from the distributed proofreaders</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ARMS AND THE MAN ***</div> + +<div class="fig" style="width:60%;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="cover " /><br/><br/> +</div> + +<h1>Arms and the Man</h1> + +<h4>A Pleasant Play</h4> + +<h2 class="no-break">by George Bernard Shaw</h2> + +<hr /> + +<h2>Contents</h2> + +<table summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap01">INTRODUCTION</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap02">ARMS AND THE MAN</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap03">ACT I</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap04">ACT II</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap05">ACT III</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap01"></a>INTRODUCTION</h2> + +<p> +To the irreverent—and which of us will claim entire exemption from that +comfortable classification?—there is something very amusing in the attitude of +the orthodox criticism toward Bernard Shaw. He so obviously disregards all the +canons and unities and other things which every well-bred dramatist is bound to +respect that his work is really unworthy of serious criticism (orthodox). +Indeed he knows no more about the <i>dramatic art</i> than, according to his +own story in “The Man of Destiny,” Napoleon at Tavazzano knew of the <i>Art of +War</i>. But both men were successes each in his way—the latter won victories +and the former gained audiences, in the very teeth of the accepted theories of +war and the theatre. Shaw does not know that it is unpardonable sin to have his +characters make long speeches at one another, apparently thinking that this +embargo applies only to long speeches which consist mainly of bombast and +rhetoric. There never was an author who showed less predilection for a specific +medium by which to accomplish his results. He recognized, early in his days, +many things awry in the world and he assumed the task of mundane reformation +with a confident spirit. It seems such a small job at twenty to set the times +aright. He began as an Essayist, but who reads essays now-a-days?—he then +turned novelist with no better success, for no one would read such preposterous +stuff as he chose to emit. He only succeeded in proving that absolutely +rational men and women—although he has created few of the latter—can be most +extremely disagreeable to our conventional way of thinking. +</p> + +<p> +As a last resort, he turned to the stage, not that he cared for the dramatic +art, for no man seems to care less about “Art for Art’s sake,” being in this a +perfect foil to his brilliant compatriot and contemporary, Wilde. He cast his +theories in dramatic forms merely because no other course except silence or +physical revolt was open to him. For a long time it seemed as if this resource +too was doomed to fail him. But finally he has attained a hearing and now +attempts at suppression merely serve to advertise their victim. +</p> + +<p> +It will repay those who seek analogies in literature to compare Shaw with +Cervantes. After a life of heroic endeavor, disappointment, slavery, and +poverty, the author of “Don Quixote” gave the world a serious work which caused +to be laughed off the world’s stage forever the final vestiges of decadent +chivalry. +</p> + +<p> +The institution had long been outgrown, but its vernacular continued to be the +speech and to express the thought “of the world and among the vulgar,” as the +quaint, old novelist puts it, just as to-day the novel intended for the +consumption of the unenlightened must deal with peers and millionaires and be +dressed in stilted language. Marvellously he succeeded, but in a way he least +intended. We have not yet, after so many years, determined whether it is a work +to laugh or cry over. “It is our joyfullest modern book,” says Carlyle, while +Landor thinks that “readers who see nothing more than a burlesque in ‘Don +Quixote’ have but shallow appreciation of the work.” +</p> + +<p> +Shaw in like manner comes upon the scene when many of our social usages are +outworn. He sees the fact, announces it, and we burst into guffaws. The +continuous laughter which greets Shaw’s plays arises from a real contrast in +the point of view of the dramatist and his audiences. When Pinero or Jones +describes a whimsical situation we never doubt for a moment that the author’s +point of view is our own and that the abnormal predicament of his characters +appeals to him in the same light as to his audience. With Shaw this sense of +community of feeling is wholly lacking. He describes things as he sees them, +and the house is in a roar. Who is right? If we were really using our own +senses and not gazing through the glasses of convention and romance and +make-believe, should we see things as Shaw does? +</p> + +<p> +Must it not cause Shaw to doubt his own or the public’s sanity to hear +audiences laughing boisterously over tragic situations? And yet, if they did +not come to laugh, they would not come at all. Mockery is the price he must pay +for a hearing. Or has he calculated to a nicety the power of reaction? Does he +seek to drive us to aspiration by the portrayal of sordidness, to +disinterestedness by the picture of selfishness, to illusion by +disillusionment? It is impossible to believe that he is unconscious of the +humor of his dramatic situations, yet he stoically gives no sign. He even dares +the charge, terrible in proportion to its truth, which the most serious of us +shrinks from—the lack of a sense of humor. Men would rather have their +integrity impugned. +</p> + +<p> +In “Arms and the Man” the subject which occupies the dramatist’s attention is +that survival of barbarity—militarism—which raises its horrid head from time to +time to cast a doubt on the reality of our civilization. No more hoary +superstition survives than that the donning of a uniform changes the nature of +the wearer. This notion pervades society to such an extent that when we find +some soldiers placed upon the stage acting rationally, our conventionalized +senses are shocked. The only men who have no illusions about war are those who +have recently been there, and, of course, Mr. Shaw, who has no illusions about +anything. +</p> + +<p> +It is hard to speak too highly of “Candida.” No equally subtle and incisive +study of domestic relations exists in the English drama. One has to turn to +George Meredith’s “The Egoist” to find such character dissection. The central +note of the play is, that with the true woman, weakness which appeals to the +maternal instinct is more powerful than strength which offers protection. +<i>Candida</i> is quite unpoetic, as, indeed, with rare exceptions, women are +prone to be. They have small delight in poetry, but are the stuff of which +poems and dreams are made. The husband glorying in his strength but convicted +of his weakness, the poet pitiful in his physical impotence but strong in his +perception of truth, the hopelessly de-moralized manufacturer, the conventional +and hence emotional typist make up a group which the drama of any language may +be challenged to rival. +</p> + +<p> +In “The Man of Destiny” the object of the dramatist is not so much the +destruction as the explanation of the Napoleonic tradition, which has so +powerfully influenced generation after generation for a century. However the +man may be regarded, he was a miracle. Shaw shows that he achieved his +extraordinary career by suspending, for himself, the pressure of the moral and +conventional atmosphere, while leaving it operative for others. Those who study +this play—extravaganza, that it is—will attain a clearer comprehension of +Napoleon than they can get from all the biographies. +</p> + +<p> +“You Never Can Tell” offers an amusing study of the play of social conventions. +The “twins” illustrate the disconcerting effects of that perfect frankness +which would make life intolerable. <i>Gloria</i> demonstrates the powerlessness +of reason to overcome natural instincts. The idea that parental duties and +functions can be fulfilled by the light of such knowledge as man and woman +attain by intuition is brilliantly lampooned. <i>Crampton</i>, the father, +typifies the common superstition that among the privileges of parenthood are +inflexibility, tyranny, and respect, the last entirely regardless of whether it +has been deserved. +</p> + +<p> +The waiter, <i>William</i>, is the best illustration of the man “who knows his +place” that the stage has seen. He is the most pathetic figure of the play. One +touch of verisimilitude is lacking; none of the guests gives him a tip, yet he +maintains his urbanity. As Mr. Shaw has not yet visited America he may be +unaware of the improbability of this situation. +</p> + +<p> +To those who regard literary men merely as purveyors of amusement for people +who have not wit enough to entertain themselves, Ibsen and Shaw, Maeterlinck +and Gorky must remain enigmas. It is so much pleasanter to ignore than to face +unpleasant realities—to take Riverside Drive and not Mulberry Street as the +exponent of our life and the expression of our civilization. These men are the +sappers and miners of the advancing army of justice. The audience which demands +the truth and despises the contemptible conventions that dominate alike our +stage and our life is daily growing. Shaw and men like him—if indeed he is not +absolutely unique—will not for the future lack a hearing. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +M. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap02"></a>ARMS AND THE MAN</h2> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap03"></a>ACT I</h2> + +<p class="stage"> +Night. A lady’s bedchamber in Bulgaria, in a small town near the Dragoman Pass. +It is late in November in the year 1885, and through an open window with a +little balcony on the left can be seen a peak of the Balkans, wonderfully white +and beautiful in the starlit snow. The interior of the room is not like +anything to be seen in the east of Europe. It is half rich Bulgarian, half +cheap Viennese. The counterpane and hangings of the bed, the window curtains, +the little carpet, and all the ornamental textile fabrics in the room are +oriental and gorgeous: the paper on the walls is occidental and paltry. Above +the head of the bed, which stands against a little wall cutting off the right +hand corner of the room diagonally, is a painted wooden shrine, blue and gold, +with an ivory image of Christ, and a light hanging before it in a pierced metal +ball suspended by three chains. On the left, further forward, is an ottoman. +The washstand, against the wall on the left, consists of an enamelled iron +basin with a pail beneath it in a painted metal frame, and a single towel on +the rail at the side. A chair near it is Austrian bent wood, with cane seat. +The dressing table, between the bed and the window, is an ordinary pine table, +covered with a cloth of many colors, but with an expensive toilet mirror on it. +The door is on the right; and there is a chest of drawers between the door and +the bed. This chest of drawers is also covered by a variegated native cloth, +and on it there is a pile of paper backed novels, a box of chocolate creams, +and a miniature easel, on which is a large photograph of an extremely handsome +officer, whose lofty bearing and magnetic glance can be felt even from the +portrait. The room is lighted by a candle on the chest of drawers, and another +on the dressing table, with a box of matches beside it. +</p> + +<p class="stage"> +The window is hinged doorwise and stands wide open, folding back to the left. +Outside a pair of wooden shutters, opening outwards, also stand open. On the +balcony, a young lady, intensely conscious of the romantic beauty of the night, +and of the fact that her own youth and beauty is a part of it, is on the +balcony, gazing at the snowy Balkans. She is covered by a long mantle of furs, +worth, on a moderate estimate, about three times the furniture of her room. +</p> + +<p class="stage"> +Her reverie is interrupted by her mother, Catherine Petkoff, a woman over +forty, imperiously energetic, with magnificent black hair and eyes, who might +be a very splendid specimen of the wife of a mountain farmer, but is determined +to be a Viennese lady, and to that end wears a fashionable tea gown on all +occasions. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +(<i>entering hastily, full of good news</i>). Raina—(<i>she pronounces it +Rah-eena, with the stress on the ee</i>) Raina—(<i>she goes to the bed, +expecting to find Raina there.</i>) Why, where—(<i>Raina looks into the +room.</i>) Heavens! child, are you out in the night air instead of in your bed? +You’ll catch your death. Louka told me you were asleep. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>coming in</i>). I sent her away. I wanted to be alone. The stars are so +beautiful! What is the matter? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +Such news. There has been a battle! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>her eyes dilating</i>). Ah! (<i>She throws the cloak on the ottoman, and +comes eagerly to Catherine in her nightgown, a pretty garment, but evidently +the only one she has on.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +A great battle at Slivnitza! A victory! And it was won by Sergius. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>with a cry of delight</i>). Ah! (<i>Rapturously.</i>) Oh, mother! (<i>Then, +with sudden anxiety</i>) Is father safe? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +Of course: he sent me the news. Sergius is the hero of the hour, the idol of +the regiment. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +Tell me, tell me. How was it! (<i>Ecstatically</i>) Oh, mother, mother, mother! +(<i>Raina pulls her mother down on the ottoman; and they kiss one another +frantically.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +(<i>with surging enthusiasm</i>). You can’t guess how splendid it is. A cavalry +charge—think of that! He defied our Russian commanders—acted without orders—led +a charge on his own responsibility—headed it himself—was the first man to sweep +through their guns. Can’t you see it, Raina; our gallant splendid Bulgarians +with their swords and eyes flashing, thundering down like an avalanche and +scattering the wretched Servian dandies like chaff. And you—you kept Sergius +waiting a year before you would be betrothed to him. Oh, if you have a drop of +Bulgarian blood in your veins, you will worship him when he comes back. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +What will he care for my poor little worship after the acclamations of a whole +army of heroes? But no matter: I am so happy—so proud! (<i>She rises and walks +about excitedly.</i>) It proves that all our ideas were real after all. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +(<i>indignantly</i>). Our ideas real! What do you mean? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +Our ideas of what Sergius would do—our patriotism—our heroic ideals. Oh, what +faithless little creatures girls are!—I sometimes used to doubt whether they +were anything but dreams. When I buckled on Sergius’s sword he looked so noble: +it was treason to think of disillusion or humiliation or failure. And yet—and +yet—(<i>Quickly.</i>) Promise me you’ll never tell him. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +Don’t ask me for promises until I know what I am promising. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +Well, it came into my head just as he was holding me in his arms and looking +into my eyes, that perhaps we only had our heroic ideas because we are so fond +of reading Byron and Pushkin, and because we were so delighted with the opera +that season at Bucharest. Real life is so seldom like that—indeed never, as far +as I knew it then. (<i>Remorsefully.</i>) Only think, mother, I doubted him: I +wondered whether all his heroic qualities and his soldiership might not prove +mere imagination when he went into a real battle. I had an uneasy fear that he +might cut a poor figure there beside all those clever Russian officers. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +A poor figure! Shame on you! The Servians have Austrian officers who are just +as clever as our Russians; but we have beaten them in every battle for all +that. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>laughing and sitting down again</i>). Yes, I was only a prosaic little +coward. Oh, to think that it was all true—that Sergius is just as splendid and +noble as he looks—that the world is really a glorious world for women who can +see its glory and men who can act its romance! What happiness! what unspeakable +fulfilment! Ah! (<i>She throws herself on her knees beside her mother and +flings her arms passionately round her. They are interrupted by the entry of +Louka, a handsome, proud girl in a pretty Bulgarian peasant’s dress with double +apron, so defiant that her servility to Raina is almost insolent. She is afraid +of Catherine, but even with her goes as far as she dares. She is just now +excited like the others; but she has no sympathy for Raina’s raptures and looks +contemptuously at the ecstasies of the two before she addresses them.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +If you please, madam, all the windows are to be closed and the shutters made +fast. They say there may be shooting in the streets. (<i>Raina and Catherine +rise together, alarmed.</i>) The Servians are being chased right back through +the pass; and they say they may run into the town. Our cavalry will be after +them; and our people will be ready for them you may be sure, now that they are +running away. (<i>She goes out on the balcony and pulls the outside shutters +to; then steps back into the room.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +I wish our people were not so cruel. What glory is there in killing wretched +fugitives? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +(<i>business-like, her housekeeping instincts aroused</i>). I must see that +everything is made safe downstairs. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>to Louka</i>). Leave the shutters so that I can just close them if I hear +any noise. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +(<i>authoritatively, turning on her way to the door</i>). Oh, no, dear, you +must keep them fastened. You would be sure to drop off to sleep and leave them +open. Make them fast, Louka. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +Yes, madam. (<i>She fastens them.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +Don’t be anxious about me. The moment I hear a shot, I shall blow out the +candles and roll myself up in bed with my ears well covered. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +Quite the wisest thing you can do, my love. Good-night. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +Good-night. (<i>They kiss one another, and Raina’s emotion comes back for a +moment.</i>) Wish me joy of the happiest night of my life—if only there are no +fugitives. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +Go to bed, dear; and don’t think of them. (<i>She goes out.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +(<i>secretly, to Raina</i>). If you would like the shutters open, just give +them a push like this. (<i>She pushes them: they open: she pulls them to +again.</i>) One of them ought to be bolted at the bottom; but the bolt’s gone. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>with dignity, reproving her</i>). Thanks, Louka; but we must do what we are +told. (<i>Louka makes a grimace.</i>) Good-night. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +(<i>carelessly</i>). Good-night. (<i>She goes out, swaggering.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="stage"> +(<i>Raina, left alone, goes to the chest of drawers, and adores the portrait +there with feelings that are beyond all expression. She does not kiss it or +press it to her breast, or shew it any mark of bodily affection; but she takes +it in her hands and elevates it like a priestess.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>looking up at the picture with worship.</i>) Oh, I shall never be unworthy +of you any more, my hero—never, never, never. +</p> + +<p class="stage"> +(<i>She replaces it reverently, and selects a novel from the little pile of +books. She turns over the leaves dreamily; finds her page; turns the book +inside out at it; and then, with a happy sigh, gets into bed and prepares to +read herself to sleep. But before abandoning herself to fiction, she raises her +eyes once more, thinking of the blessed reality and murmurs</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +My hero! my hero! +</p> + +<p class="stage"> +(<i>A distant shot breaks the quiet of the night outside. She starts, +listening; and two more shots, much nearer, follow, startling her so that she +scrambles out of bed, and hastily blows out the candle on the chest of drawers. +Then, putting her fingers in her ears, she runs to the dressing-table and blows +out the light there, and hurries back to bed. The room is now in darkness: +nothing is visible but the glimmer of the light in the pierced ball before the +image, and the starlight seen through the slits at the top of the shutters. The +firing breaks out again: there is a startling fusillade quite close at hand. +Whilst it is still echoing, the shutters disappear, pulled open from without, +and for an instant the rectangle of snowy starlight flashes out with the figure +of a man in black upon it. The shutters close immediately and the room is dark +again. But the silence is now broken by the sound of panting. Then there is a +scrape; and the flame of a match is seen in the middle of the room.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>crouching on the bed</i>). Who’s there? (<i>The match is out +instantly.</i>) Who’s there? Who is that? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +A MAN’S VOICE.<br/> +(<i>in the darkness, subduedly, but threateningly</i>). Sh—sh! Don’t call out +or you’ll be shot. Be good; and no harm will happen to you. (<i>She is heard +leaving her bed, and making for the door.</i>) Take care, there’s no use in +trying to run away. Remember, if you raise your voice my pistol will go off. +(<i>Commandingly.</i>) Strike a light and let me see you. Do you hear? +(<i>Another moment of silence and darkness. Then she is heard retreating to the +dressing-table. She lights a candle, and the mystery is at an end. A man of +about 35, in a deplorable plight, bespattered with mud and blood and snow, his +belt and the strap of his revolver case keeping together the torn ruins of the +blue coat of a Servian artillery officer. As far as the candlelight and his +unwashed, unkempt condition make it possible to judge, he is a man of middling +stature and undistinguished appearance, with strong neck and shoulders, a +roundish, obstinate looking head covered with short crisp bronze curls, clear +quick blue eyes and good brows and mouth, a hopelessly prosaic nose like that +of a strong-minded baby, trim soldierlike carriage and energetic manner, and +with all his wits about him in spite of his desperate predicament—even with a +sense of humor of it, without, however, the least intention of trifling with it +or throwing away a chance. He reckons up what he can guess about Raina—her age, +her social position, her character, the extent to which she is frightened—at a +glance, and continues, more politely but still most determinedly</i>) Excuse my +disturbing you; but you recognise my uniform—Servian. If I’m caught I shall be +killed. (<i>Determinedly.</i>) Do you understand that? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +Yes. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +Well, I don’t intend to get killed if I can help it. (<i>Still more +determinedly.</i>) Do you understand that? (<i>He locks the door with a +snap.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>disdainfully</i>). I suppose not. (<i>She draws herself up superbly, and +looks him straight in the face, saying with emphasis</i>) Some soldiers, I +know, are afraid of death. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +(<i>with grim goodhumor</i>). All of them, dear lady, all of them, believe me. +It is our duty to live as long as we can, and kill as many of the enemy as we +can. Now if you raise an alarm— +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>cutting him short</i>). You will shoot me. How do you know that I am afraid +to die? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +(<i>cunningly</i>). Ah; but suppose I don’t shoot you, what will happen then? +Why, a lot of your cavalry—the greatest blackguards in your army—will burst +into this pretty room of yours and slaughter me here like a pig; for I’ll fight +like a demon: they shan’t get me into the street to amuse themselves with: I +know what they are. Are you prepared to receive that sort of company in your +present undress? (<i>Raina, suddenly conscious of her nightgown, instinctively +shrinks and gathers it more closely about her. He watches her, and adds, +pitilessly</i>) It’s rather scanty, eh? (<i>She turns to the ottoman. He raises +his pistol instantly, and cries</i>) Stop! (<i>She stops.</i>) Where are you +going? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>with dignified patience</i>). Only to get my cloak. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +(<i>darting to the ottoman and snatching the cloak</i>). A good idea. No: I’ll +keep the cloak: and you will take care that nobody comes in and sees you +without it. This is a better weapon than the pistol. (<i>He throws the pistol +down on the ottoman.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>revolted</i>). It is not the weapon of a gentleman! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +It’s good enough for a man with only you to stand between him and death. (<i>As +they look at one another for a moment, Raina hardly able to believe that even a +Servian officer can be so cynically and selfishly unchivalrous, they are +startled by a sharp fusillade in the street. The chill of imminent death hushes +the man’s voice as he adds</i>) Do you hear? If you are going to bring those +scoundrels in on me you shall receive them as you are. (<i>Raina meets his eye +with unflinching scorn. Suddenly he starts, listening. There is a step outside. +Someone tries the door, and then knocks hurriedly and urgently at it. Raina +looks at the man, breathless. He throws up his head with the gesture of a man +who sees that it is all over with him, and, dropping the manner which he has +been assuming to intimidate her, flings the cloak to her, exclaiming, sincerely +and kindly</i>) No use: I’m done for. Quick! wrap yourself up: they’re coming! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>catching the cloak eagerly</i>). Oh, thank you. (<i>She wraps herself up +with great relief. He draws his sabre and turns to the door, waiting.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +(<i>outside, knocking</i>). My lady, my lady! Get up, quick, and open the door. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>anxiously</i>). What will you do? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +(<i>grimly</i>). Never mind. Keep out of the way. It will not last long. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>impulsively</i>). I’ll help you. Hide yourself, oh, hide yourself, quick, +behind the curtain. (<i>She seizes him by a torn strip of his sleeve, and pulls +him towards the window.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +(<i>yielding to her</i>). There is just half a chance, if you keep your head. +Remember: nine soldiers out of ten are born fools. (<i>He hides behind the +curtain, looking out for a moment to say, finally</i>) If they find me, I +promise you a fight—a devil of a fight! (<i>He disappears. Raina takes off the +cloak and throws it across the foot of the bed. Then with a sleepy, disturbed +air, she opens the door. Louka enters excitedly.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +A man has been seen climbing up the water-pipe to your balcony—a Servian. The +soldiers want to search for him; and they are so wild and drunk and furious. My +lady says you are to dress at once. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>as if annoyed at being disturbed</i>). They shall not search here. Why have +they been let in? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +(<i>coming in hastily</i>). Raina, darling, are you safe? Have you seen anyone +or heard anything? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +I heard the shooting. Surely the soldiers will not dare come in here? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +I have found a Russian officer, thank Heaven: he knows Sergius. (<i>Speaking +through the door to someone outside.</i>) Sir, will you come in now! My +daughter is ready. +</p> + +<p class="stage"> +(<i>A young Russian officer, in Bulgarian uniform, enters, sword in hand.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +THE OFFICER.<br/> +(<i>with soft, feline politeness and stiff military carriage</i>). Good +evening, gracious lady; I am sorry to intrude, but there is a fugitive hiding +on the balcony. Will you and the gracious lady your mother please to withdraw +whilst we search? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>petulantly</i>). Nonsense, sir, you can see that there is no one on the +balcony. (<i>She throws the shutters wide open and stands with her back to the +curtain where the man is hidden, pointing to the moonlit balcony. A couple of +shots are fired right under the window, and a bullet shatters the glass +opposite Raina, who winks and gasps, but stands her ground, whilst Catherine +screams, and the officer rushes to the balcony.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +THE OFFICER.<br/> +(<i>on the balcony, shouting savagely down to the street</i>). Cease firing +there, you fools: do you hear? Cease firing, damn you. (<i>He glares down for a +moment; then turns to Raina, trying to resume his polite manner.</i>) Could +anyone have got in without your knowledge? Were you asleep? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +No, I have not been to bed. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +THE OFFICER.<br/> +(<i>impatiently, coming back into the room</i>). Your neighbours have their +heads so full of runaway Servians that they see them everywhere. +(<i>Politely.</i>) Gracious lady, a thousand pardons. Good-night. (<i>Military +bow, which Raina returns coldly. Another to Catherine, who follows him out. +Raina closes the shutters. She turns and sees Louka, who has been watching the +scene curiously.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +Don’t leave my mother, Louka, whilst the soldiers are here. (<i>Louka glances +at Raina, at the ottoman, at the curtain; then purses her lips secretively, +laughs to herself, and goes out. Raina follows her to the door, shuts it behind +her with a slam, and locks it violently. The man immediately steps out from +behind the curtain, sheathing his sabre, and dismissing the danger from his +mind in a businesslike way.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +A narrow shave; but a miss is as good as a mile. Dear young lady, your servant +until death. I wish for your sake I had joined the Bulgarian army instead of +the Servian. I am not a native Servian. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>haughtily</i>). No, you are one of the Austrians who set the Servians on to +rob us of our national liberty, and who officer their army for them. We hate +them! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +Austrian! not I. Don’t hate me, dear young lady. I am only a Swiss, fighting +merely as a professional soldier. I joined Servia because it was nearest to me. +Be generous: you’ve beaten us hollow. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +Have I not been generous? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +Noble!—heroic! But I’m not saved yet. This particular rush will soon pass +through; but the pursuit will go on all night by fits and starts. I must take +my chance to get off during a quiet interval. You don’t mind my waiting just a +minute or two, do you? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +Oh, no: I am sorry you will have to go into danger again. (<i>Motioning towards +ottoman.</i>) Won’t you sit—(<i>She breaks off with an irrepressible cry of +alarm as she catches sight of the pistol. The man, all nerves, shies like a +frightened horse.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +(<i>irritably</i>). Don’t frighten me like that. What is it? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +Your pistol! It was staring that officer in the face all the time. What an +escape! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +(<i>vexed at being unnecessarily terrified</i>). Oh, is that all? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>staring at him rather superciliously, conceiving a poorer and poorer +opinion of him, and feeling proportionately more and more at her ease with +him</i>). I am sorry I frightened you. (<i>She takes up the pistol and hands it +to him.</i>) Pray take it to protect yourself against me. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +(<i>grinning wearily at the sarcasm as he takes the pistol</i>). No use, dear +young lady: there’s nothing in it. It’s not loaded. (<i>He makes a grimace at +it, and drops it disparagingly into his revolver case.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +Load it by all means. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +I’ve no ammunition. What use are cartridges in battle? I always carry chocolate +instead; and I finished the last cake of that yesterday. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>outraged in her most cherished ideals of manhood</i>). Chocolate! Do you +stuff your pockets with sweets—like a schoolboy—even in the field? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +Yes. Isn’t it contemptible? +</p> + +<p class="stage"> +(<i>Raina stares at him, unable to utter her feelings. Then she sails away +scornfully to the chest of drawers, and returns with the box of confectionery +in her hand.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +Allow me. I am sorry I have eaten them all except these. (<i>She offers him the +box.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +(<i>ravenously</i>). You’re an angel! (<i>He gobbles the comfits.</i>) Creams! +Delicious! (<i>He looks anxiously to see whether there are any more. There are +none. He accepts the inevitable with pathetic goodhumor, and says, with +grateful emotion</i>) Bless you, dear lady. You can always tell an old soldier +by the inside of his holsters and cartridge boxes. The young ones carry pistols +and cartridges; the old ones, grub. Thank you. (<i>He hands back the box. She +snatches it contemptuously from him and throws it away. This impatient action +is so sudden that he shies again.</i>) Ugh! Don’t do things so suddenly, +gracious lady. Don’t revenge yourself because I frightened you just now. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>superbly</i>). Frighten me! Do you know, sir, that though I am only a +woman, I think I am at heart as brave as you. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +I should think so. You haven’t been under fire for three days as I have. I can +stand two days without shewing it much; but no man can stand three days: I’m as +nervous as a mouse. (<i>He sits down on the ottoman, and takes his head in his +hands.</i>) Would you like to see me cry? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>quickly</i>). No. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +If you would, all you have to do is to scold me just as if I were a little boy +and you my nurse. If I were in camp now they’d play all sorts of tricks on me. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>a little moved</i>). I’m sorry. I won’t scold you. (<i>Touched by the +sympathy in her tone, he raises his head and looks gratefully at her: she +immediately draws back and says stiffly</i>) You must excuse me: our soldiers +are not like that. (<i>She moves away from the ottoman.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +Oh, yes, they are. There are only two sorts of soldiers: old ones and young +ones. I’ve served fourteen years: half of your fellows never smelt powder +before. Why, how is it that you’ve just beaten us? Sheer ignorance of the art +of war, nothing else. (<i>Indignantly.</i>) I never saw anything so +unprofessional. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>ironically</i>). Oh, was it unprofessional to beat you? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +Well, come, is it professional to throw a regiment of cavalry on a battery of +machine guns, with the dead certainty that if the guns go off not a horse or +man will ever get within fifty yards of the fire? I couldn’t believe my eyes +when I saw it. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>eagerly turning to him, as all her enthusiasm and her dream of glory rush +back on her</i>). Did you see the great cavalry charge? Oh, tell me about it. +Describe it to me. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +You never saw a cavalry charge, did you? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +How could I? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +Ah, perhaps not—of course. Well, it’s a funny sight. It’s like slinging a +handful of peas against a window pane: first one comes; then two or three close +behind him; and then all the rest in a lump. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>her eyes dilating as she raises her clasped hands ecstatically</i>). Yes, +first One!—the bravest of the brave! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +(<i>prosaically</i>). Hm! you should see the poor devil pulling at his horse. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +Why should he pull at his horse? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +(<i>impatient of so stupid a question</i>). It’s running away with him, of +course: do you suppose the fellow wants to get there before the others and be +killed? Then they all come. You can tell the young ones by their wildness and +their slashing. The old ones come bunched up under the number one guard: they +know that they are mere projectiles, and that it’s no use trying to fight. The +wounds are mostly broken knees, from the horses cannoning together. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +Ugh! But I don’t believe the first man is a coward. I believe he is a hero! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +(<i>goodhumoredly</i>). That’s what you’d have said if you’d seen the first man +in the charge to-day. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>breathless</i>). Ah, I knew it! Tell me—tell me about him. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +He did it like an operatic tenor—a regular handsome fellow, with flashing eyes +and lovely moustache, shouting a war-cry and charging like Don Quixote at the +windmills. We nearly burst with laughter at him; but when the sergeant ran up +as white as a sheet, and told us they’d sent us the wrong cartridges, and that +we couldn’t fire a shot for the next ten minutes, we laughed at the other side +of our mouths. I never felt so sick in my life, though I’ve been in one or two +very tight places. And I hadn’t even a revolver cartridge—nothing but +chocolate. We’d no bayonets—nothing. Of course, they just cut us to bits. And +there was Don Quixote flourishing like a drum major, thinking he’d done the +cleverest thing ever known, whereas he ought to be courtmartialled for it. Of +all the fools ever let loose on a field of battle, that man must be the very +maddest. He and his regiment simply committed suicide—only the pistol missed +fire, that’s all. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>deeply wounded, but steadfastly loyal to her ideals</i>). Indeed! Would you +know him again if you saw him? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +Shall I ever forget him. (<i>She again goes to the chest of drawers. He watches +her with a vague hope that she may have something else for him to eat. She +takes the portrait from its stand and brings it to him.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +That is a photograph of the gentleman—the patriot and hero—to whom I am +betrothed. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +(<i>looking at it</i>). I’m really very sorry. (<i>Looking at her.</i>) Was it +fair to lead me on? (<i>He looks at the portrait again.</i>) Yes: that’s him: +not a doubt of it. (<i>He stifles a laugh.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>quickly</i>). Why do you laugh? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +(<i>shamefacedly, but still greatly tickled</i>). I didn’t laugh, I assure you. +At least I didn’t mean to. But when I think of him charging the windmills and +thinking he was doing the finest thing—(<i>chokes with suppressed +laughter</i>). +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>sternly</i>). Give me back the portrait, sir. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +(<i>with sincere remorse</i>). Of course. Certainly. I’m really very sorry. +(<i>She deliberately kisses it, and looks him straight in the face, before +returning to the chest of drawers to replace it. He follows her, +apologizing.</i>) Perhaps I’m quite wrong, you know: no doubt I am. Most likely +he had got wind of the cartridge business somehow, and knew it was a safe job. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +That is to say, he was a pretender and a coward! You did not dare say that +before. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +(<i>with a comic gesture of despair</i>). It’s no use, dear lady: I can’t make +you see it from the professional point of view. (<i>As he turns away to get +back to the ottoman, the firing begins again in the distance.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>sternly, as she sees him listening to the shots</i>). So much the better +for you. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +(<i>turning</i>). How? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +You are my enemy; and you are at my mercy. What would I do if I were a +professional soldier? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +Ah, true, dear young lady: you’re always right. I know how good you have been +to me: to my last hour I shall remember those three chocolate creams. It was +unsoldierly; but it was angelic. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>coldly</i>). Thank you. And now I will do a soldierly thing. You cannot +stay here after what you have just said about my future husband; but I will go +out on the balcony and see whether it is safe for you to climb down into the +street. (<i>She turns to the window.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +(<i>changing countenance</i>). Down that waterpipe! Stop! Wait! I can’t! I +daren’t! The very thought of it makes me giddy. I came up it fast enough with +death behind me. But to face it now in cold blood!—(<i>He sinks on the +ottoman.</i>) It’s no use: I give up: I’m beaten. Give the alarm. (<i>He drops +his head in his hands in the deepest dejection.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>disarmed by pity</i>). Come, don’t be disheartened. (<i>She stoops over him +almost maternally: he shakes his head.</i>) Oh, you are a very poor soldier—a +chocolate cream soldier. Come, cheer up: it takes less courage to climb down +than to face capture—remember that. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +(<i>dreamily, lulled by her voice</i>). No, capture only means death; and death +is sleep—oh, sleep, sleep, sleep, undisturbed sleep! Climbing down the pipe +means doing something—exerting myself—thinking! Death ten times over first. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>softly and wonderingly, catching the rhythm of his weariness</i>). Are you +so sleepy as that? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +I’ve not had two hours’ undisturbed sleep since the war began. I’m on the +staff: you don’t know what that means. I haven’t closed my eyes for thirty-six +hours. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>desperately</i>). But what am I to do with you. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +(<i>staggering up</i>). Of course I must do something. (<i>He shakes himself; +pulls himself together; and speaks with rallied vigour and courage.</i>) You +see, sleep or no sleep, hunger or no hunger, tired or not tired, you can always +do a thing when you know it must be done. Well, that pipe must be got +down—(<i>He hits himself on the chest, and adds</i>)—Do you hear that, you +chocolate cream soldier? (<i>He turns to the window.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>anxiously</i>). But if you fall? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +I shall sleep as if the stones were a feather bed. Good-bye. (<i>He makes +boldly for the window, and his hand is on the shutter when there is a terrible +burst of firing in the street beneath.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>rushing to him</i>). Stop! (<i>She catches him by the shoulder, and turns +him quite round.</i>) They’ll kill you. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +(<i>coolly, but attentively</i>). Never mind: this sort of thing is all in my +day’s work. I’m bound to take my chance. (<i>Decisively.</i>) Now do what I +tell you. Put out the candles, so that they shan’t see the light when I open +the shutters. And keep away from the window, whatever you do. If they see me, +they’re sure to have a shot at me. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>clinging to him</i>). They’re sure to see you: it’s bright moonlight. I’ll +save you—oh, how can you be so indifferent? You want me to save you, don’t you? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +I really don’t want to be troublesome. (<i>She shakes him in her +impatience.</i>) I am not indifferent, dear young lady, I assure you. But how +is it to be done? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +Come away from the window—please. (<i>She coaxes him back to the middle of the +room. He submits humbly. She releases him, and addresses him +patronizingly.</i>) Now listen. You must trust to our hospitality. You do not +yet know in whose house you are. I am a Petkoff. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +What’s that? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>rather indignantly</i>). I mean that I belong to the family of the +Petkoffs, the richest and best known in our country. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +Oh, yes, of course. I beg your pardon. The Petkoffs, to be sure. How stupid of +me! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +You know you never heard of them until this minute. How can you stoop to +pretend? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +Forgive me: I’m too tired to think; and the change of subject was too much for +me. Don’t scold me. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +I forgot. It might make you cry. (<i>He nods, quite seriously. She pouts and +then resumes her patronizing tone.</i>) I must tell you that my father holds +the highest command of any Bulgarian in our army. He is (<i>proudly</i>) a +Major. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +(<i>pretending to be deeply impressed</i>). A Major! Bless me! Think of that! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +You shewed great ignorance in thinking that it was necessary to climb up to the +balcony, because ours is the only private house that has two rows of windows. +There is a flight of stairs inside to get up and down by. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +Stairs! How grand! You live in great luxury indeed, dear young lady. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +Do you know what a library is? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +A library? A roomful of books. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +Yes, we have one, the only one in Bulgaria. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +Actually a real library! I should like to see that. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>affectedly</i>). I tell you these things to shew you that you are not in +the house of ignorant country folk who would kill you the moment they saw your +Servian uniform, but among civilized people. We go to Bucharest every year for +the opera season; and I have spent a whole month in Vienna. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +I saw that, dear young lady. I saw at once that you knew the world. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +Have you ever seen the opera of Ernani? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +Is that the one with the devil in it in red velvet, and a soldier’s chorus? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>contemptuously</i>). No! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +(<i>stifling a heavy sigh of weariness</i>). Then I don’t know it. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +I thought you might have remembered the great scene where Ernani, flying from +his foes just as you are tonight, takes refuge in the castle of his bitterest +enemy, an old Castilian noble. The noble refuses to give him up. His guest is +sacred to him. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +(<i>quickly waking up a little</i>). Have your people got that notion? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>with dignity</i>). My mother and I can understand that notion, as you call +it. And if instead of threatening me with your pistol as you did, you had +simply thrown yourself as a fugitive on our hospitality, you would have been as +safe as in your father’s house. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +Quite sure? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>turning her back on him in disgust.</i>) Oh, it is useless to try and make +you understand. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +Don’t be angry: you see how awkward it would be for me if there was any +mistake. My father is a very hospitable man: he keeps six hotels; but I +couldn’t trust him as far as that. What about YOUR father? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +He is away at Slivnitza fighting for his country. I answer for your safety. +There is my hand in pledge of it. Will that reassure you? (<i>She offers him +her hand.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +(<i>looking dubiously at his own hand</i>). Better not touch my hand, dear +young lady. I must have a wash first. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>touched</i>). That is very nice of you. I see that you are a gentleman. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +(<i>puzzled</i>). Eh? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +You must not think I am surprised. Bulgarians of really good standing—people in +OUR position—wash their hands nearly every day. But I appreciate your delicacy. +You may take my hand. (<i>She offers it again.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +(<i>kissing it with his hands behind his back</i>). Thanks, gracious young +lady: I feel safe at last. And now would you mind breaking the news to your +mother? I had better not stay here secretly longer than is necessary. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +If you will be so good as to keep perfectly still whilst I am away. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +Certainly. (<i>He sits down on the ottoman.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="stage"> +(<i>Raina goes to the bed and wraps herself in the fur cloak. His eyes close. +She goes to the door, but on turning for a last look at him, sees that he is +dropping of to sleep.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>at the door</i>). You are not going asleep, are you? (<i>He murmurs +inarticulately: she runs to him and shakes him.</i>) Do you hear? Wake up: you +are falling asleep. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +Eh? Falling aslee—? Oh, no, not the least in the world: I was only thinking. +It’s all right: I’m wide awake. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>severely</i>). Will you please stand up while I am away. (<i>He rises +reluctantly.</i>) All the time, mind. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +(<i>standing unsteadily</i>). Certainly—certainly: you may depend on me. +</p> + +<p class="stage"> +(<i>Raina looks doubtfully at him. He smiles foolishly. She goes reluctantly, +turning again at the door, and almost catching him in the act of yawning. She +goes out.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MAN.<br/> +(<i>drowsily</i>). Sleep, sleep, sleep, sleep, slee—(<i>The words trail off +into a murmur. He wakes again with a shock on the point of falling.</i>) Where +am I? That’s what I want to know: where am I? Must keep awake. Nothing keeps me +awake except danger—remember that—(<i>intently</i>) danger, danger, danger, +dan— Where’s danger? Must find it. (<i>He starts of vaguely around the room in +search of it.</i>) What am I looking for? Sleep—danger—don’t know. (<i>He +stumbles against the bed.</i>) Ah, yes: now I know. All right now. I’m to go to +bed, but not to sleep—be sure not to sleep—because of danger. Not to lie down, +either, only sit down. (<i>He sits on the bed. A blissful expression comes into +his face.</i>) Ah! (<i>With a happy sigh he sinks back at full length; lifts +his boots into the bed with a final effort; and falls fast asleep +instantly.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="stage"> +(<i>Catherine comes in, followed by Raina.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>looking at the ottoman</i>). He’s gone! I left him here. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +Here! Then he must have climbed down from the— +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>seeing him</i>). Oh! (<i>She points.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +(<i>scandalized</i>). Well! (<i>She strides to the left side of the bed, Raina +following and standing opposite her on the right.</i>) He’s fast asleep. The +brute! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>anxiously</i>). Sh! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +(<i>shaking him</i>). Sir! (<i>Shaking him again, harder.</i>) Sir!! +(<i>Vehemently shaking very bard.</i>) Sir!!! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>catching her arm</i>). Don’t, mamma: the poor dear is worn out. Let him +sleep. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +(<i>letting him go and turning amazed to Raina</i>). The poor dear! Raina!!! +(<i>She looks sternly at her daughter. The man sleeps profoundly.</i>) +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap04"></a>ACT II</h2> + +<p class="stage"> +The sixth of March, 1886. In the garden of major Petkoff’s house. It is a fine +spring morning; and the garden looks fresh and pretty. Beyond the paling the +tops of a couple of minarets can be seen, shewing that there is a valley there, +with the little town in it. A few miles further the Balkan mountains rise and +shut in the view. Within the garden the side of the house is seen on the right, +with a garden door reached by a little flight of steps. On the left the stable +yard, with its gateway, encroaches on the garden. There are fruit bushes along +the paling and house, covered with washing hung out to dry. A path runs by the +house, and rises by two steps at the corner where it turns out of the right +along the front. In the middle a small table, with two bent wood chairs at it, +is laid for breakfast with Turkish coffee pot, cups, rolls, etc.; but the cups +have been used and the bread broken. There is a wooden garden seat against the +wall on the left. +</p> + +<p class="stage"> +Louka, smoking a cigaret, is standing between the table and the house, turning +her back with angry disdain on a man-servant who is lecturing her. He is a +middle-aged man of cool temperament and low but clear and keen intelligence, +with the complacency of the servant who values himself on his rank in +servility, and the imperturbability of the accurate calculator who has no +illusions. He wears a white Bulgarian costume jacket with decorated border, +sash, wide knickerbockers, and decorated gaiters. His head is shaved up to the +crown, giving him a high Japanese forehead. His name is Nicola. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +NICOLA.<br/> +Be warned in time, Louka: mend your manners. I know the mistress. She is so +grand that she never dreams that any servant could dare to be disrespectful to +her; but if she once suspects that you are defying her, out you go. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +I do defy her. I will defy her. What do I care for her? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +NICOLA.<br/> +If you quarrel with the family, I never can marry you. It’s the same as if you +quarrelled with me! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +You take her part against me, do you? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +NICOLA.<br/> +(<i>sedately</i>). I shall always be dependent on the good will of the family. +When I leave their service and start a shop in Sofia, their custom will be half +my capital: their bad word would ruin me. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +You have no spirit. I should like to see them dare say a word against me! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +NICOLA.<br/> +(<i>pityingly</i>). I should have expected more sense from you, Louka. But +you’re young, you’re young! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +Yes; and you like me the better for it, don’t you? But I know some family +secrets they wouldn’t care to have told, young as I am. Let them quarrel with +me if they dare! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +NICOLA.<br/> +(<i>with compassionate superiority</i>). Do you know what they would do if they +heard you talk like that? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +What could they do? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +NICOLA.<br/> +Discharge you for untruthfulness. Who would believe any stories you told after +that? Who would give you another situation? Who in this house would dare be +seen speaking to you ever again? How long would your father be left on his +little farm? (<i>She impatiently throws away the end of her cigaret, and stamps +on it.</i>) Child, you don’t know the power such high people have over the like +of you and me when we try to rise out of our poverty against them. (<i>He goes +close to her and lowers his voice.</i>) Look at me, ten years in their service. +Do you think I know no secrets? I know things about the mistress that she +wouldn’t have the master know for a thousand levas. I know things about him +that she wouldn’t let him hear the last of for six months if I blabbed them to +her. I know things about Raina that would break off her match with Sergius if— +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +(<i>turning on him quickly</i>). How do you know? I never told you! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +NICOLA.<br/> +(<i>opening his eyes cunningly</i>). So that’s your little secret, is it? I +thought it might be something like that. Well, you take my advice, and be +respectful; and make the mistress feel that no matter what you know or don’t +know, they can depend on you to hold your tongue and serve the family +faithfully. That’s what they like; and that’s how you’ll make most out of them. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +(<i>with searching scorn</i>). You have the soul of a servant, Nicola. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +NICOLA.<br/> +(<i>complacently</i>). Yes: that’s the secret of success in service. +</p> + +<p class="stage"> +(<i>A loud knocking with a whip handle on a wooden door, outside on the left, +is heard.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +MALE VOICE OUTSIDE.<br/> +Hollo! Hollo there! Nicola! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +Master! back from the war! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +NICOLA.<br/> +(<i>quickly</i>). My word for it, Louka, the war’s over. Off with you and get +some fresh coffee. (<i>He runs out into the stable yard.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +(<i>as she puts the coffee pot and the cups upon the tray, and carries it into +the house</i>). You’ll never put the soul of a servant into me. +</p> + +<p class="stage"> +(<i>Major Petkoff comes from the stable yard, followed by Nicola. He is a +cheerful, excitable, insignificant, unpolished man of about 50, naturally +unambitious except as to his income and his importance in local society, but +just now greatly pleased with the military rank which the war has thrust on him +as a man of consequence in his town. The fever of plucky patriotism which the +Servian attack roused in all the Bulgarians has pulled him through the war; but +he is obviously glad to be home again.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +(<i>pointing to the table with his whip</i>). Breakfast out here, eh? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +NICOLA.<br/> +Yes, sir. The mistress and Miss Raina have just gone in. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +(<i>sitting down and taking a roll</i>). Go in and say I’ve come; and get me +some fresh coffee. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +NICOLA.<br/> +It’s coming, sir. (<i>He goes to the house door. Louka, with fresh coffee, a +clean cup, and a brandy bottle on her tray meets him.</i>) Have you told the +mistress? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +Yes: she’s coming. +</p> + +<p class="stage"> +(<i>Nicola goes into the house. Louka brings the coffee to the table.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +Well, the Servians haven’t run away with you, have they? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +No, sir. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +That’s right. Have you brought me some cognac? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +(<i>putting the bottle on the table</i>). Here, sir. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +That’s right. (<i>He pours some into his coffee.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="stage"> +(<i>Catherine who has at this early hour made only a very perfunctory toilet, +and wears a Bulgarian apron over a once brilliant, but now half worn out red +dressing gown, and a colored handkerchief tied over her thick black hair, with +Turkish slippers on her bare feet, comes from the house, looking astonishingly +handsome and stately under all the circumstances. Louka goes into the +house.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +My dear Paul, what a surprise for us. (<i>She stoops over the back of his chair +to kiss him.</i>) Have they brought you fresh coffee? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +Yes, Louka’s been looking after me. The war’s over. The treaty was signed three +days ago at Bucharest; and the decree for our army to demobilize was issued +yesterday. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +(<i>springing erect, with flashing eyes</i>). The war over! Paul: have you let +the Austrians force you to make peace? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +(<i>submissively</i>). My dear: they didn’t consult me. What could <i>I</i> do? +(<i>She sits down and turns away from him.</i>) But of course we saw to it that +the treaty was an honorable one. It declares peace— +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +(<i>outraged</i>). Peace! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +(<i>appeasing her</i>).—but not friendly relations: remember that. They wanted +to put that in; but I insisted on its being struck out. What more could I do? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +You could have annexed Servia and made Prince Alexander Emperor of the Balkans. +That’s what I would have done. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +I don’t doubt it in the least, my dear. But I should have had to subdue the +whole Austrian Empire first; and that would have kept me too long away from +you. I missed you greatly. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +(<i>relenting</i>). Ah! (<i>Stretches her hand affectionately across the table +to squeeze his.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +And how have you been, my dear? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +Oh, my usual sore throats, that’s all. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +(<i>with conviction</i>). That comes from washing your neck every day. I’ve +often told you so. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +Nonsense, Paul! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +(<i>over his coffee and cigaret</i>). I don’t believe in going too far with +these modern customs. All this washing can’t be good for the health: it’s not +natural. There was an Englishman at Phillipopolis who used to wet himself all +over with cold water every morning when he got up. Disgusting! It all comes +from the English: their climate makes them so dirty that they have to be +perpetually washing themselves. Look at my father: he never had a bath in his +life; and he lived to be ninety-eight, the healthiest man in Bulgaria. I don’t +mind a good wash once a week to keep up my position; but once a day is carrying +the thing to a ridiculous extreme. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +You are a barbarian at heart still, Paul. I hope you behaved yourself before +all those Russian officers. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +I did my best. I took care to let them know that we had a library. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +Ah; but you didn’t tell them that we have an electric bell in it? I have had +one put up. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +What’s an electric bell? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +You touch a button; something tinkles in the kitchen; and then Nicola comes up. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +Why not shout for him? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +Civilized people never shout for their servants. I’ve learnt that while you +were away. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +Well, I’ll tell you something I’ve learnt, too. Civilized people don’t hang out +their washing to dry where visitors can see it; so you’d better have all that +(<i>indicating the clothes on the bushes</i>) put somewhere else. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +Oh, that’s absurd, Paul: I don’t believe really refined people notice such +things. +</p> + +<p class="stage"> +(<i>Someone is heard knocking at the stable gates.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +There’s Sergius. (<i>Shouting.</i>) Hollo, Nicola! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +Oh, don’t shout, Paul: it really isn’t nice. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +Bosh! (<i>He shouts louder than before.</i>) Nicola! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +NICOLA.<br/> +(<i>appearing at the house door</i>). Yes, sir. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +If that is Major Saranoff, bring him round this way. (<i>He pronounces the name +with the stress on the second syllable—Sarah-noff.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +NICOLA.<br/> +Yes, sir. (<i>He goes into the stable yard.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +You must talk to him, my dear, until Raina takes him off our hands. He bores my +life out about our not promoting him—over my head, mind you. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +He certainly ought to be promoted when he marries Raina. Besides, the country +should insist on having at least one native general. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +Yes, so that he could throw away whole brigades instead of regiments. It’s no +use, my dear: he has not the slightest chance of promotion until we are quite +sure that the peace will be a lasting one. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +NICOLA.<br/> +(<i>at the gate, announcing</i>). Major Sergius Saranoff! (<i>He goes into the +house and returns presently with a third chair, which he places at the table. +He then withdraws.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="stage"> +(<i>Major Sergius Saranoff, the original of the portrait in Raina’s room, is a +tall, romantically handsome man, with the physical hardihood, the high spirit, +and the susceptible imagination of an untamed mountaineer chieftain. But his +remarkable personal distinction is of a characteristically civilized type. The +ridges of his eyebrows, curving with a ram’s-horn twist round the marked +projections at the outer corners, his jealously observant eye, his nose, thin, +keen, and apprehensive in spite of the pugnacious high bridge and large +nostril, his assertive chin, would not be out of place in a Paris salon. In +short, the clever, imaginative barbarian has an acute critical faculty which +has been thrown into intense activity by the arrival of western civilization in +the Balkans; and the result is precisely what the advent of nineteenth-century +thought first produced in England: to-wit, Byronism. By his brooding on the +perpetual failure, not only of others, but of himself, to live up to his +imaginative ideals, his consequent cynical scorn for humanity, the jejune +credulity as to the absolute validity of his ideals and the unworthiness of the +world in disregarding them, his wincings and mockeries under the sting of the +petty disillusions which every hour spent among men brings to his infallibly +quick observation, he has acquired the half tragic, half ironic air, the +mysterious moodiness, the suggestion of a strange and terrible history that has +left him nothing but undying remorse, by which Childe Harold fascinated the +grandmothers of his English contemporaries. Altogether it is clear that here or +nowhere is Raina’s ideal hero. Catherine is hardly less enthusiastic, and much +less reserved in shewing her enthusiasm. As he enters from the stable gate, she +rises effusively to greet him. Petkoff is distinctly less disposed to make a +fuss about him.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +Here already, Sergius. Glad to see you! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +My dear Sergius!(<i>She holds out both her hands.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>kissing them with scrupulous gallantry</i>). My dear mother, if I may call +you so. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +(<i>drily</i>). Mother-in-law, Sergius; mother-in-law! Sit down, and have some +coffee. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +Thank you, none for me. (<i>He gets away from the table with a certain distaste +for Petkoff’s enjoyment of it, and posts himself with conscious grace against +the rail of the steps leading to the house.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +You look superb—splendid. The campaign has improved you. Everybody here is mad +about you. We were all wild with enthusiasm about that magnificent cavalry +charge. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>with grave irony</i>). Madam: it was the cradle and the grave of my +military reputation. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +How so? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +I won the battle the wrong way when our worthy Russian generals were losing it +the right way. That upset their plans, and wounded their self-esteem. Two of +their colonels got their regiments driven back on the correct principles of +scientific warfare. Two major-generals got killed strictly according to +military etiquette. Those two colonels are now major-generals; and I am still a +simple major. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +You shall not remain so, Sergius. The women are on your side; and they will see +that justice is done you. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +It is too late. I have only waited for the peace to send in my resignation. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +(<i>dropping his cup in his amazement</i>). Your resignation! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +Oh, you must withdraw it! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>with resolute, measured emphasis, folding his arms</i>). I never withdraw! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +(<i>vexed</i>). Now who could have supposed you were going to do such a thing? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>with fire</i>). Everyone that knew me. But enough of myself and my affairs. +How is Raina; and where is Raina? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>suddenly coming round the corner of the house and standing at the top of +the steps in the path</i>). Raina is here. (<i>She makes a charming picture as +they all turn to look at her. She wears an underdress of pale green silk, +draped with an overdress of thin ecru canvas embroidered with gold. On her head +she wears a pretty Phrygian cap of gold tinsel. Sergius, with an exclamation of +pleasure, goes impulsively to meet her. She stretches out her hand: he drops +chivalrously on one knee and kisses it.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +(<i>aside to Catherine, beaming with parental pride</i>). Pretty, isn’t it? She +always appears at the right moment. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +(<i>impatiently</i>). Yes: she listens for it. It is an abominable habit. +</p> + +<p class="stage"> +(<i>Sergius leads Raina forward with splendid gallantry, as if she were a +queen. When they come to the table, she turns to him with a bend of the head; +he bows; and thus they separate, he coming to his place, and she going behind +her father’s chair.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>stooping and kissing her father</i>). Dear father! Welcome home! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +(<i>patting her cheek</i>). My little pet girl. (<i>He kisses her; she goes to +the chair left by Nicola for Sergius, and sits down.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +And so you’re no longer a soldier, Sergius. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +I am no longer a soldier. Soldiering, my dear madam, is the coward’s art of +attacking mercilessly when you are strong, and keeping out of harm’s way when +you are weak. That is the whole secret of successful fighting. Get your enemy +at a disadvantage; and never, on any account, fight him on equal terms. Eh, +Major! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +They wouldn’t let us make a fair stand-up fight of it. However, I suppose +soldiering has to be a trade like any other trade. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +Precisely. But I have no ambition to succeed as a tradesman; so I have taken +the advice of that bagman of a captain that settled the exchange of prisoners +with us at Peerot, and given it up. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +What, that Swiss fellow? Sergius: I’ve often thought of that exchange since. He +over-reached us about those horses. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +Of course he over-reached us. His father was a hotel and livery stable keeper; +and he owed his first step to his knowledge of horse-dealing. (<i>With mock +enthusiasm.</i>) Ah, he was a soldier—every inch a soldier! If only I had +bought the horses for my regiment instead of foolishly leading it into danger, +I should have been a field-marshal now! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +A Swiss? What was he doing in the Servian army? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +A volunteer of course—keen on picking up his profession. (<i>Chuckling.</i>) We +shouldn’t have been able to begin fighting if these foreigners hadn’t shewn us +how to do it: we knew nothing about it; and neither did the Servians. Egad, +there’d have been no war without them. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +Are there many Swiss officers in the Servian Army? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +No—all Austrians, just as our officers were all Russians. This was the only +Swiss I came across. I’ll never trust a Swiss again. He cheated us—humbugged us +into giving him fifty able bodied men for two hundred confounded worn out +chargers. They weren’t even eatable! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +We were two children in the hands of that consummate soldier, Major: simply two +innocent little children. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +What was he like? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +Oh, Raina, what a silly question! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +He was like a commercial traveller in uniform. Bourgeois to his boots. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +(<i>grinning</i>). Sergius: tell Catherine that queer story his friend told us +about him—how he escaped after Slivnitza. You remember?—about his being hid by +two women. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>with bitter irony</i>). Oh, yes, quite a romance. He was serving in the +very battery I so unprofessionally charged. Being a thorough soldier, he ran +away like the rest of them, with our cavalry at his heels. To escape their +attentions, he had the good taste to take refuge in the chamber of some +patriotic young Bulgarian lady. The young lady was enchanted by his persuasive +commercial traveller’s manners. She very modestly entertained him for an hour +or so and then called in her mother lest her conduct should appear unmaidenly. +The old lady was equally fascinated; and the fugitive was sent on his way in +the morning, disguised in an old coat belonging to the master of the house, who +was away at the war. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>rising with marked stateliness</i>). Your life in the camp has made you +coarse, Sergius. I did not think you would have repeated such a story before +me. (<i>She turns away coldly.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +(<i>also rising</i>). She is right, Sergius. If such women exist, we should be +spared the knowledge of them. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +Pooh! nonsense! what does it matter? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>ashamed</i>). No, Petkoff: I was wrong. (<i>To Raina, with earnest +humility.</i>) I beg your pardon. I have behaved abominably. Forgive me, Raina. +(<i>She bows reservedly.</i>) And you, too, madam. (<i>Catherine bows +graciously and sits down. He proceeds solemnly, again addressing Raina.</i>) +The glimpses I have had of the seamy side of life during the last few months +have made me cynical; but I should not have brought my cynicism here—least of +all into your presence, Raina. I—(<i>Here, turning to the others, he is +evidently about to begin a long speech when the Major interrupts him.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +Stuff and nonsense, Sergius. That’s quite enough fuss about nothing: a +soldier’s daughter should be able to stand up without flinching to a little +strong conversation. (<i>He rises.</i>) Come: it’s time for us to get to +business. We have to make up our minds how those three regiments are to get +back to Phillipopolis:—there’s no forage for them on the Sofia route. (<i>He +goes towards the house.</i>) Come along. (<i>Sergius is about to follow him +when Catherine rises and intervenes.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +Oh, Paul, can’t you spare Sergius for a few moments? Raina has hardly seen him +yet. Perhaps I can help you to settle about the regiments. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>protesting</i>). My dear madam, impossible: you— +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +(<i>stopping him playfully</i>). You stay here, my dear Sergius: there’s no +hurry. I have a word or two to say to Paul. (<i>Sergius instantly bows and +steps back.</i>) Now, dear (<i>taking Petkoff’s arm</i>), come and see the +electric bell. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +Oh, very well, very well. (<i>They go into the house together affectionately. +Sergius, left alone with Raina, looks anxiously at her, fearing that she may be +still offended. She smiles, and stretches out her arms to him.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="stage"> +(<i>Exit R. into house, followed by Catherine.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>hastening to her, but refraining from touching her without express +permission</i>). Am I forgiven? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>placing her hands on his shoulder as she looks up at him with admiration +and worship</i>). My hero! My king. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +My queen! (<i>He kisses her on the forehead with holy awe.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +How I have envied you, Sergius! You have been out in the world, on the field of +battle, able to prove yourself there worthy of any woman in the world; whilst I +have had to sit at home inactive,—dreaming—useless—doing nothing that could +give me the right to call myself worthy of any man. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +Dearest, all my deeds have been yours. You inspired me. I have gone through the +war like a knight in a tournament with his lady looking on at him! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +And you have never been absent from my thoughts for a moment. (<i>Very +solemnly.</i>) Sergius: I think we two have found the higher love. When I think +of you, I feel that I could never do a base deed, or think an ignoble thought. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +My lady, and my saint! (<i>Clasping her reverently.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>returning his embrace</i>). My lord and my g— +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +Sh—sh! Let me be the worshipper, dear. You little know how unworthy even the +best man is of a girl’s pure passion! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +I trust you. I love you. You will never disappoint me, Sergius. (<i>Louka is +heard singing within the house. They quickly release each other.</i>) Hush! I +can’t pretend to talk indifferently before her: my heart is too full. (<i>Louka +comes from the house with her tray. She goes to the table, and begins to clear +it, with her back turned to them.</i>) I will go and get my hat; and then we +can go out until lunch time. Wouldn’t you like that? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +Be quick. If you are away five minutes, it will seem five hours. (<i>Raina runs +to the top of the steps and turns there to exchange a look with him and wave +him a kiss with both hands. He looks after her with emotion for a moment, then +turns slowly away, his face radiant with the exultation of the scene which has +just passed. The movement shifts his field of vision, into the corner of which +there now comes the tail of Louka’s double apron. His eye gleams at once. He +takes a stealthy look at her, and begins to twirl his moustache nervously, with +his left hand akimbo on his hip. Finally, striking the ground with his heels in +something of a cavalry swagger, he strolls over to the left of the table, +opposite her, and says</i>) Louka: do you know what the higher love is? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +(<i>astonished</i>). No, sir. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +Very fatiguing thing to keep up for any length of time, Louka. One feels the +need of some relief after it. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +(<i>innocently</i>). Perhaps you would like some coffee, sir? (<i>She stretches +her hand across the table for the coffee pot.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>taking her hand</i>). Thank you, Louka. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +(<i>pretending to pull</i>). Oh, sir, you know I didn’t mean that. I’m +surprised at you! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>coming clear of the table and drawing her with him</i>). I am surprised at +myself, Louka. What would Sergius, the hero of Slivnitza, say if he saw me now? +What would Sergius, the apostle of the higher love, say if he saw me now? What +would the half dozen Sergiuses who keep popping in and out of this handsome +figure of mine say if they caught us here? (<i>Letting go her hand and slipping +his arm dexterously round her waist.</i>) Do you consider my figure handsome, +Louka? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +Let me go, sir. I shall be disgraced. (<i>She struggles: he holds her +inexorably.</i>) Oh, will you let go? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>looking straight into her eyes</i>). No. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +Then stand back where we can’t be seen. Have you no common sense? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +Ah, that’s reasonable. (<i>He takes her into the stableyard gateway, where they +are hidden from the house.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +(<i>complaining</i>). I may have been seen from the windows: Miss Raina is sure +to be spying about after you. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>stung—letting her go</i>). Take care, Louka. I may be worthless enough to +betray the higher love; but do not you insult it. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +(<i>demurely</i>). Not for the world, sir, I’m sure. May I go on with my work +please, now? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>again putting his arm round her</i>). You are a provoking little witch, +Louka. If you were in love with me, would you spy out of windows on me? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +Well, you see, sir, since you say you are half a dozen different gentlemen all +at once, I should have a great deal to look after. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>charmed</i>). Witty as well as pretty. (<i>He tries to kiss her.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +(<i>avoiding him</i>). No, I don’t want your kisses. Gentlefolk are all +alike—you making love to me behind Miss Raina’s back, and she doing the same +behind yours. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>recoiling a step</i>). Louka! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +It shews how little you really care! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>dropping his familiarity and speaking with freezing politeness</i>). If our +conversation is to continue, Louka, you will please remember that a gentleman +does not discuss the conduct of the lady he is engaged to with her maid. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +It’s so hard to know what a gentleman considers right. I thought from your +trying to kiss me that you had given up being so particular. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>turning from her and striking his forehead as he comes back into the garden +from the gateway</i>). Devil! devil! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +Ha! ha! I expect one of the six of you is very like me, sir, though I am only +Miss Raina’s maid. (<i>She goes back to her work at the table, taking no +further notice of him.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>speaking to himself</i>). Which of the six is the real man?—that’s the +question that torments me. One of them is a hero, another a buffoon, another a +humbug, another perhaps a bit of a blackguard. (<i>He pauses and looks +furtively at Louka, as he adds with deep bitterness</i>) And one, at least, is +a coward—jealous, like all cowards. (<i>He goes to the table.</i>) Louka. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +Yes? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +Who is my rival? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +You shall never get that out of me, for love or money. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +Why? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +Never mind why. Besides, you would tell that I told you; and I should lose my +place. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>holding out his right hand in affirmation</i>). No; on the honor of +a—(<i>He checks himself, and his hand drops nerveless as he concludes, +sardonically</i>)—of a man capable of behaving as I have been behaving for the +last five minutes. Who is he? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +I don’t know. I never saw him. I only heard his voice through the door of her +room. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +Damnation! How dare you? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +(<i>retreating</i>). Oh, I mean no harm: you’ve no right to take up my words +like that. The mistress knows all about it. And I tell you that if that +gentleman ever comes here again, Miss Raina will marry him, whether he likes it +or not. I know the difference between the sort of manner you and she put on +before one another and the real manner. (<i>Sergius shivers as if she had +stabbed him. Then, setting his face like iron, he strides grimly to her, and +grips her above the elbows with both bands.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +Now listen you to me! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +(<i>wincing</i>). Not so tight: you’re hurting me! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +That doesn’t matter. You have stained my honor by making me a party to your +eavesdropping. And you have betrayed your mistress— +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +(<i>writhing</i>). Please— +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +That shews that you are an abominable little clod of common clay, with the soul +of a servant. (<i>He lets her go as if she were an unclean thing, and turns +away, dusting his hands of her, to the bench by the wall, where he sits down +with averted head, meditating gloomily.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +(<i>whimpering angrily with her hands up her sleeves, feeling her bruised +arms</i>). You know how to hurt with your tongue as well as with your hands. +But I don’t care, now I’ve found out that whatever clay I’m made of, you’re +made of the same. As for her, she’s a liar; and her fine airs are a cheat; and +I’m worth six of her. (<i>She shakes the pain off hardily; tosses her head; and +sets to work to put the things on the tray. He looks doubtfully at her once or +twice. She finishes packing the tray, and laps the cloth over the edges, so as +to carry all out together. As she stoops to lift it, he rises.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +Louka! (<i>She stops and looks defiantly at him with the tray in her +hands.</i>) A gentleman has no right to hurt a woman under any circumstances. +(<i>With profound humility, uncovering his head.</i>) I beg your pardon. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +That sort of apology may satisfy a lady. Of what use is it to a servant? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>thus rudely crossed in his chivalry, throws it off with a bitter laugh and +says slightingly</i>). Oh, you wish to be paid for the hurt? (<i>He puts on his +shako, and takes some money from his pocket.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +(<i>her eyes filling with tears in spite of herself</i>). No, I want my hurt +made well. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>sobered by her tone</i>). How? +</p> + +<p class="stage"> +(<i>She rolls up her left sleeve; clasps her arm with the thumb and fingers of +her right hand; and looks down at the bruise. Then she raises her head and +looks straight at him. Finally, with a superb gesture she presents her arm to +be kissed. Amazed, he looks at her; at the arm; at her again; hesitates; and +then, with shuddering intensity, exclaims</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +Never! (<i>and gets away as far as possible from her.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="stage"> +(<i>Her arm drops. Without a word, and with unaffected dignity, she takes her +tray, and is approaching the house when Raina returns wearing a hat and jacket +in the height of the Vienna fashion of the previous year, 1885. Louka makes way +proudly for her, and then goes into the house.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +I’m ready! What’s the matter? (<i>Gaily.</i>) Have you been flirting with +Louka? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>hastily</i>). No, no. How can you think such a thing? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>ashamed of herself</i>). Forgive me, dear: it was only a jest. I am so +happy to-day. +</p> + +<p class="stage"> +(<i>He goes quickly to her, and kisses her hand remorsefully. Catherine comes +out and calls to them from the top of the steps.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +(<i>coming down to them</i>). I am sorry to disturb you, children; but Paul is +distracted over those three regiments. He does not know how to get them to +Phillipopolis; and he objects to every suggestion of mine. You must go and help +him, Sergius. He is in the library. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>disappointed</i>). But we are just going out for a walk. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +I shall not be long. Wait for me just five minutes. (<i>He runs up the steps to +the door.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>following him to the foot of the steps and looking up at him with timid +coquetry</i>). I shall go round and wait in full view of the library windows. +Be sure you draw father’s attention to me. If you are a moment longer than five +minutes, I shall go in and fetch you, regiments or no regiments. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>laughing</i>). Very well. (<i>He goes in. Raina watches him until he is out +of her sight. Then, with a perceptible relaxation of manner, she begins to pace +up and down about the garden in a brown study.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +Imagine their meeting that Swiss and hearing the whole story! The very first +thing your father asked for was the old coat we sent him off in. A nice mess +you have got us into! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>gazing thoughtfully at the gravel as she walks</i>). The little beast! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +Little beast! What little beast? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +To go and tell! Oh, if I had him here, I’d stuff him with chocolate creams till +he couldn’t ever speak again! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +Don’t talk nonsense. Tell me the truth, Raina. How long was he in your room +before you came to me? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>whisking round and recommencing her march in the opposite direction</i>). +Oh, I forget. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +You cannot forget! Did he really climb up after the soldiers were gone, or was +he there when that officer searched the room? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +No. Yes, I think he must have been there then. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +You think! Oh, Raina, Raina! Will anything ever make you straightforward? If +Sergius finds out, it is all over between you. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>with cool impertinence</i>). Oh, I know Sergius is your pet. I sometimes +wish you could marry him instead of me. You would just suit him. You would pet +him, and spoil him, and mother him to perfection. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +(<i>opening her eyes very widely indeed</i>). Well, upon my word! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>capriciously—half to herself</i>). I always feel a longing to do or say +something dreadful to him—to shock his propriety—to scandalize the five senses +out of him! (<i>To Catherine perversely.</i>) I don’t care whether he finds out +about the chocolate cream soldier or not. I half hope he may. (<i>She again +turns flippantly away and strolls up the path to the corner of the house.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +And what should I be able to say to your father, pray? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>over her shoulder, from the top of the two steps</i>). Oh, poor father! As +if he could help himself! (<i>She turns the corner and passes out of +sight.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +(<i>looking after her, her fingers itching</i>). Oh, if you were only ten years +younger! (<i>Louka comes from the house with a salver, which she carries +hanging down by her side.</i>) Well? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +There’s a gentleman just called, madam—a Servian officer— +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +(<i>flaming</i>). A Servian! How dare he—(<i>Checking herself bitterly.</i>) +Oh, I forgot. We are at peace now. I suppose we shall have them calling every +day to pay their compliments. Well, if he is an officer why don’t you tell your +master? He is in the library with Major Saranoff. Why do you come to me? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +But he asks for you, madam. And I don’t think he knows who you are: he said the +lady of the house. He gave me this little ticket for you. (<i>She takes a card +out of her bosom; puts it on the salver and offers it to Catherine.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +(<i>reading</i>). “Captain Bluntschli!” That’s a German name. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +Swiss, madam, I think. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +(<i>with a bound that makes Louka jump back</i>). Swiss! What is he like? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +(<i>timidly</i>). He has a big carpet bag, madam. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +Oh, Heavens, he’s come to return the coat! Send him away—say we’re not at +home—ask him to leave his address and I’ll write to him—Oh, stop: that will +never do. Wait! (<i>She throws herself into a chair to think it out. Louka +waits.</i>) The master and Major Saranoff are busy in the library, aren’t they? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +Yes, madam. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +(<i>decisively</i>). Bring the gentleman out here at once. +(<i>Imperatively.</i>) And be very polite to him. Don’t delay. Here +(<i>impatiently snatching the salver from her</i>): leave that here; and go +straight back to him. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +Yes, madam. (<i>Going.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +Louka! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +(<i>stopping</i>). Yes, madam. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +Is the library door shut? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +I think so, madam. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +If not, shut it as you pass through. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +Yes, madam. (<i>Going.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +Stop! (<i>Louka stops.</i>) He will have to go out that way (<i>indicating the +gate of the stable yard</i>). Tell Nicola to bring his bag here after him. +Don’t forget. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +(<i>surprised</i>). His bag? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +Yes, here, as soon as possible. (<i>Vehemently.</i>) Be quick! (<i>Louka runs +into the house. Catherine snatches her apron off and throws it behind a bush. +She then takes up the salver and uses it as a mirror, with the result that the +handkerchief tied round her head follows the apron. A touch to her hair and a +shake to her dressing gown makes her presentable.</i>) Oh, how—how—how can a +man be such a fool! Such a moment to select! (<i>Louka appears at the door of +the house, announcing “Captain Bluntschli;” and standing aside at the top of +the steps to let him pass before she goes in again. He is the man of the +adventure in Raina’s room. He is now clean, well brushed, smartly uniformed, +and out of trouble, but still unmistakably the same man. The moment Louka’s +back is turned, Catherine swoops on him with hurried, urgent, coaxing +appeal.</i>) Captain Bluntschli, I am very glad to see you; but you must leave +this house at once. (<i>He raises his eyebrows.</i>) My husband has just +returned, with my future son-in-law; and they know nothing. If they did, the +consequences would be terrible. You are a foreigner: you do not feel our +national animosities as we do. We still hate the Servians: the only effect of +the peace on my husband is to make him feel like a lion baulked of his prey. If +he discovered our secret, he would never forgive me; and my daughter’s life +would hardly be safe. Will you, like the chivalrous gentleman and soldier you +are, leave at once before he finds you here? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +(<i>disappointed, but philosophical</i>). At once, gracious lady. I only came +to thank you and return the coat you lent me. If you will allow me to take it +out of my bag and leave it with your servant as I pass out, I need detain you +no further. (<i>He turns to go into the house.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +(<i>catching him by the sleeve</i>). Oh, you must not think of going back that +way. (<i>Coaxing him across to the stable gates.</i>) This is the shortest way +out. Many thanks. So glad to have been of service to you. Good-bye. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +But my bag? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +It will be sent on. You will leave me your address. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +True. Allow me. (<i>He takes out his card-case, and stops to write his address, +keeping Catherine in an agony of impatience. As he hands her the card, Petkoff, +hatless, rushes from the house in a fluster of hospitality, followed by +Sergius.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +(<i>as he hurries down the steps</i>). My dear Captain Bluntschli— +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +Oh Heavens! (<i>She sinks on the seat against the wall.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +(<i>too preoccupied to notice her as he shakes Bluntschli’s hand heartily</i>). +Those stupid people of mine thought I was out here, instead of in +the—haw!—library. (<i>He cannot mention the library without betraying how proud +he is of it.</i>) I saw you through the window. I was wondering why you didn’t +come in. Saranoff is with me: you remember him, don’t you? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>saluting humorously, and then offering his hand with great charm of +manner</i>). Welcome, our friend the enemy! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +No longer the enemy, happily. (<i>Rather anxiously.</i>) I hope you’ve come as +a friend, and not on business. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +Oh, quite as a friend, Paul. I was just asking Captain Bluntschli to stay to +lunch; but he declares he must go at once. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>sardonically</i>). Impossible, Bluntschli. We want you here badly. We have +to send on three cavalry regiments to Phillipopolis; and we don’t in the least +know how to do it. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +(<i>suddenly attentive and business-like</i>). Phillipopolis! The forage is the +trouble, eh? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +(<i>eagerly</i>). Yes, that’s it. (<i>To Sergius.</i>) He sees the whole thing +at once. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +I think I can shew you how to manage that. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +Invaluable man! Come along! (<i>Towering over Bluntschli, he puts his hand on +his shoulder and takes him to the steps, Petkoff following. As Bluntschli puts +his foot on the first step, Raina comes out of the house.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>completely losing her presence of mind</i>). Oh, the chocolate cream +soldier! +</p> + +<p class="stage"> +(<i>Bluntschli stands rigid. Sergius, amazed, looks at Raina, then at Petkoff, +who looks back at him and then at his wife.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +(<i>with commanding presence of mind</i>). My dear Raina, don’t you see that we +have a guest here—Captain Bluntschli, one of our new Servian friends? +</p> + +<p class="stage"> +(<i>Raina bows; Bluntschli bows.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +How silly of me! (<i>She comes down into the centre of the group, between +Bluntschli and Petkoff</i>) I made a beautiful ornament this morning for the +ice pudding; and that stupid Nicola has just put down a pile of plates on it +and spoiled it. (<i>To Bluntschli, winningly.</i>) I hope you didn’t think that +you were the chocolate cream soldier, Captain Bluntschli. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +(<i>laughing</i>). I assure you I did. (<i>Stealing a whimsical glance at +her.</i>) Your explanation was a relief. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +(<i>suspiciously, to Raina</i>). And since when, pray, have you taken to +cooking? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +Oh, whilst you were away. It is her latest fancy. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +(<i>testily</i>). And has Nicola taken to drinking? He used to be careful +enough. First he shews Captain Bluntschli out here when he knew quite well I +was in the—hum!—library; and then he goes downstairs and breaks Raina’s +chocolate soldier. He must—(<i>At this moment Nicola appears at the top of the +steps R., with a carpet bag. He descends; places it respectfully before +Bluntschli; and waits for further orders. General amazement. Nicola, +unconscious of the effect he is producing, looks perfectly satisfied with +himself. When Petkoff recovers his power of speech, he breaks out at him +with</i>) Are you mad, Nicola? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +NICOLA.<br/> +(<i>taken aback</i>). Sir? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +What have you brought that for? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +NICOLA.<br/> +My lady’s orders, sir. Louka told me that— +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +(<i>interrupting him</i>). My orders! Why should I order you to bring Captain +Bluntschli’s luggage out here? What are you thinking of, Nicola? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +NICOLA.<br/> +(<i>after a moment’s bewilderment, picking up the bag as he addresses +Bluntschli with the very perfection of servile discretion</i>). I beg your +pardon, sir, I am sure. (<i>To Catherine.</i>) My fault, madam! I hope you’ll +overlook it! (<i>He bows, and is going to the steps with the bag, when Petkoff +addresses him angrily.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +You’d better go and slam that bag, too, down on Miss Raina’s ice pudding! +(<i>This is too much for Nicola. The bag drops from his hands on Petkoff’s +corns, eliciting a roar of anguish from him.</i>) Begone, you butter-fingered +donkey. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +NICOLA.<br/> +(<i>snatching up the bag, and escaping into the house</i>). Yes, sir. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +Oh, never mind, Paul, don’t be angry! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +(<i>muttering</i>). Scoundrel. He’s got out of hand while I was away. I’ll +teach him. (<i>Recollecting his guest.</i>) Oh, well, never mind. Come, +Bluntschli, lets have no more nonsense about you having to go away. You know +very well you’re not going back to Switzerland yet. Until you do go back you’ll +stay with us. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +Oh, do, Captain Bluntschli. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +(<i>to Catherine</i>). Now, Catherine, it’s of you that he’s afraid. Press him +and he’ll stay. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +Of course I shall be only too delighted if (<i>appealingly</i>) Captain +Bluntschli really wishes to stay. He knows my wishes. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +(<i>in his driest military manner</i>). I am at madame’s orders. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>cordially</i>). That settles it! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +(<i>heartily</i>). Of course! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +You see, you must stay! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +(<i>smiling</i>). Well, If I must, I must! (<i>Gesture of despair from +Catherine.</i>) +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap05"></a>ACT III</h2> + +<p class="stage"> +In the library after lunch. It is not much of a library, its literary equipment +consisting of a single fixed shelf stocked with old paper-covered novels, +broken backed, coffee stained, torn and thumbed, and a couple of little hanging +shelves with a few gift books on them, the rest of the wall space being +occupied by trophies of war and the chase. But it is a most comfortable +sitting-room. A row of three large windows in the front of the house shew a +mountain panorama, which is just now seen in one of its softest aspects in the +mellowing afternoon light. In the left hand corner, a square earthenware stove, +a perfect tower of colored pottery, rises nearly to the ceiling and guarantees +plenty of warmth. The ottoman in the middle is a circular bank of decorated +cushions, and the window seats are well upholstered divans. Little Turkish +tables, one of them with an elaborate hookah on it, and a screen to match them, +complete the handsome effect of the furnishing. There is one object, however, +which is hopelessly out of keeping with its surroundings. This is a small +kitchen table, much the worse for wear, fitted as a writing table with an old +canister full of pens, an eggcup filled with ink, and a deplorable scrap of +severely used pink blotting paper. +</p> + +<p class="stage"> +At the side of this table, which stands on the right, Bluntschli is hard at +work, with a couple of maps before him, writing orders. At the head of it sits +Sergius, who is also supposed to be at work, but who is actually gnawing the +feather of a pen, and contemplating Bluntschli’s quick, sure, businesslike +progress with a mixture of envious irritation at his own incapacity, and +awestruck wonder at an ability which seems to him almost miraculous, though its +prosaic character forbids him to esteem it. The major is comfortably +established on the ottoman, with a newspaper in his hand and the tube of the +hookah within his reach. Catherine sits at the stove, with her back to them, +embroidering. Raina, reclining on the divan under the left hand window, is +gazing in a daydream out at the Balkan landscape, with a neglected novel in her +lap. +</p> + +<p class="stage"> +The door is on the left. The button of the electric bell is between the door +and the fireplace. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +(<i>looking up from his paper to watch how they are getting on at the +table</i>). Are you sure I can’t help you in any way, Bluntschli? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +(<i>without interrupting his writing or looking up</i>). Quite sure, thank you. +Saranoff and I will manage it. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>grimly</i>). Yes: we’ll manage it. He finds out what to do; draws up the +orders; and I sign ’em. Division of labour, Major. (<i>Bluntschli passes him a +paper.</i>) Another one? Thank you. (<i>He plants the papers squarely before +him; sets his chair carefully parallel to them; and signs with the air of a man +resolutely performing a difficult and dangerous feat.</i>) This hand is more +accustomed to the sword than to the pen. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +It’s very good of you, Bluntschli, it is indeed, to let yourself be put upon in +this way. Now are you quite sure I can do nothing? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +(<i>in a low, warning tone</i>). You can stop interrupting, Paul. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +(<i>starting and looking round at her</i>). Eh? Oh! Quite right, my love, quite +right. (<i>He takes his newspaper up, but lets it drop again.</i>) Ah, you +haven’t been campaigning, Catherine: you don’t know how pleasant it is for us +to sit here, after a good lunch, with nothing to do but enjoy ourselves. +There’s only one thing I want to make me thoroughly comfortable. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +What is that? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +My old coat. I’m not at home in this one: I feel as if I were on parade. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +My dear Paul, how absurd you are about that old coat! It must be hanging in the +blue closet where you left it. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +My dear Catherine, I tell you I’ve looked there. Am I to believe my own eyes or +not? (<i>Catherine quietly rises and presses the button of the electric bell by +the fireplace.</i>) What are you shewing off that bell for? (<i>She looks at +him majestically, and silently resumes her chair and her needlework.</i>) My +dear: if you think the obstinacy of your sex can make a coat out of two old +dressing gowns of Raina’s, your waterproof, and my mackintosh, you’re mistaken. +That’s exactly what the blue closet contains at present. (<i>Nicola presents +himself.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +(<i>unmoved by Petkoff’s sally</i>). Nicola: go to the blue closet and bring +your master’s old coat here—the braided one he usually wears in the house. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +NICOLA.<br/> +Yes, madam. (<i>Nicola goes out.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +Catherine. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +Yes, Paul? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +I bet you any piece of jewellery you like to order from Sofia against a week’s +housekeeping money, that the coat isn’t there. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +Done, Paul. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +(<i>excited by the prospect of a gamble</i>). Come: here’s an opportunity for +some sport. Who’ll bet on it? Bluntschli: I’ll give you six to one. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +(<i>imperturbably</i>). It would be robbing you, Major. Madame is sure to be +right. (<i>Without looking up, he passes another batch of papers to +Sergius.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>also excited</i>). Bravo, Switzerland! Major: I bet my best charger against +an Arab mare for Raina that Nicola finds the coat in the blue closet. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +(<i>eagerly</i>). Your best char— +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +(<i>hastily interrupting him</i>). Don’t be foolish, Paul. An Arabian mare will +cost you 50,000 levas. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>suddenly coming out of her picturesque revery</i>). Really, mother, if you +are going to take the jewellery, I don’t see why you should grudge me my Arab. +</p> + +<p class="stage"> +(<i>Nicola comes back with the coat and brings it to Petkoff, who can hardly +believe his eyes.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +Where was it, Nicola? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +NICOLA.<br/> +Hanging in the blue closet, madam. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +Well, I am d— +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +(<i>stopping him</i>). Paul! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +I could have sworn it wasn’t there. Age is beginning to tell on me. I’m getting +hallucinations. (<i>To Nicola.</i>) Here: help me to change. Excuse me, +Bluntschli. (<i>He begins changing coats, Nicola acting as valet.</i>) +Remember: I didn’t take that bet of yours, Sergius. You’d better give Raina +that Arab steed yourself, since you’ve roused her expectations. Eh, Raina? +(<i>He looks round at her; but she is again rapt in the landscape. With a +little gush of paternal affection and pride, he points her out to them and +says</i>) She’s dreaming, as usual. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +Assuredly she shall not be the loser. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +So much the better for her. I shan’t come off so cheap, I expect. (<i>The +change is now complete. Nicola goes out with the discarded coat.</i>) Ah, now I +feel at home at last. (<i>He sits down and takes his newspaper with a grunt of +relief.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +(<i>to Sergius, handing a paper</i>). That’s the last order. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +(<i>jumping up</i>). What! finished? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +Finished. (<i>Petkoff goes beside Sergius; looks curiously over his left +shoulder as he signs; and says with childlike envy</i>) Haven’t you anything +for me to sign? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +Not necessary. His signature will do. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +Ah, well, I think we’ve done a thundering good day’s work. (<i>He goes away +from the table.</i>) Can I do anything more? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +You had better both see the fellows that are to take these. (<i>To +Sergius.</i>) Pack them off at once; and shew them that I’ve marked on the +orders the time they should hand them in by. Tell them that if they stop to +drink or tell stories—if they’re five minutes late, they’ll have the skin taken +off their backs. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>rising indignantly</i>). I’ll say so. And if one of them is man enough to +spit in my face for insulting him, I’ll buy his discharge and give him a +pension. (<i>He strides out, his humanity deeply outraged.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +(<i>confidentially</i>). Just see that he talks to them properly, Major, will +you? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +(<i>officiously</i>). Quite right, Bluntschli, quite right. I’ll see to it. +(<i>He goes to the door importantly, but hesitates on the threshold.</i>) By +the bye, Catherine, you may as well come, too. They’ll be far more frightened +of you than of me. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +(<i>putting down her embroidery</i>). I daresay I had better. You will only +splutter at them. (<i>She goes out, Petkoff holding the door for her and +following her.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +What a country! They make cannons out of cherry trees; and the officers send +for their wives to keep discipline! (<i>He begins to fold and docket the +papers. Raina, who has risen from the divan, strolls down the room with her +hands clasped behind her, and looks mischievously at him.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +You look ever so much nicer than when we last met. (<i>He looks up, +surprised.</i>) What have you done to yourself? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +Washed; brushed; good night’s sleep and breakfast. That’s all. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +Did you get back safely that morning? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +Quite, thanks. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +Were they angry with you for running away from Sergius’s charge? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +No, they were glad; because they’d all just run away themselves. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>going to the table, and leaning over it towards him</i>). It must have made +a lovely story for them—all that about me and my room. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +Capital story. But I only told it to one of them—a particular friend. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +On whose discretion you could absolutely rely? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +Absolutely. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +Hm! He told it all to my father and Sergius the day you exchanged the +prisoners. (<i>She turns away and strolls carelessly across to the other side +of the room.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +(<i>deeply concerned and half incredulous</i>). No! you don’t mean that, do +you? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>turning, with sudden earnestness</i>). I do indeed. But they don’t know +that it was in this house that you hid. If Sergius knew, he would challenge you +and kill you in a duel. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +Bless me! then don’t tell him. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>full of reproach for his levity</i>). Can you realize what it is to me to +deceive him? I want to be quite perfect with Sergius—no meanness, no smallness, +no deceit. My relation to him is the one really beautiful and noble part of my +life. I hope you can understand that. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +(<i>sceptically</i>). You mean that you wouldn’t like him to find out that the +story about the ice pudding was a—a—a—You know. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>wincing</i>). Ah, don’t talk of it in that flippant way. I lied: I know it. +But I did it to save your life. He would have killed you. That was the second +time I ever uttered a falsehood. (<i>Bluntschli rises quickly and looks +doubtfully and somewhat severely at her.</i>) Do you remember the first time? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +I! No. Was I present? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +Yes; and I told the officer who was searching for you that you were not +present. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +True. I should have remembered it. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>greatly encouraged</i>). Ah, it is natural that you should forget it first. +It cost you nothing: it cost me a lie!—a lie!! (<i>She sits down on the +ottoman, looking straight before her with her hands clasped on her knee. +Bluntschli, quite touched, goes to the ottoman with a particularly reassuring +and considerate air, and sits down beside her.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +My dear young lady, don’t let this worry you. Remember: I’m a soldier. Now what +are the two things that happen to a soldier so often that he comes to think +nothing of them? One is hearing people tell lies (<i>Raina recoils</i>): the +other is getting his life saved in all sorts of ways by all sorts of people. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>rising in indignant protest</i>). And so he becomes a creature incapable of +faith and of gratitude. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +(<i>making a wry face</i>). Do you like gratitude? I don’t. If pity is akin to +love, gratitude is akin to the other thing. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +Gratitude! (<i>Turning on him.</i>) If you are incapable of gratitude you are +incapable of any noble sentiment. Even animals are grateful. Oh, I see now +exactly what you think of me! You were not surprised to hear me lie. To you it +was something I probably did every day—every hour. That is how men think of +women. (<i>She walks up the room melodramatically.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +(<i>dubiously</i>). There’s reason in everything. You said you’d told only two +lies in your whole life. Dear young lady: isn’t that rather a short allowance? +I’m quite a straightforward man myself; but it wouldn’t last me a whole +morning. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>staring haughtily at him</i>). Do you know, sir, that you are insulting me? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +I can’t help it. When you get into that noble attitude and speak in that +thrilling voice, I admire you; but I find it impossible to believe a single +word you say. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>superbly</i>). Captain Bluntschli! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +(<i>unmoved</i>). Yes? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>coming a little towards him, as if she could not believe her senses</i>). +Do you mean what you said just now? Do you know what you said just now? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +I do. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>gasping</i>). I! I!!! (<i>She points to herself incredulously, meaning “I, +Raina Petkoff, tell lies!” He meets her gaze unflinchingly. She suddenly sits +down beside him, and adds, with a complete change of manner from the heroic to +the familiar</i>) How did you find me out? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +(<i>promptly</i>). Instinct, dear young lady. Instinct, and experience of the +world. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>wonderingly</i>). Do you know, you are the first man I ever met who did not +take me seriously? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +You mean, don’t you, that I am the first man that has ever taken you quite +seriously? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +Yes, I suppose I do mean that. (<i>Cosily, quite at her ease with him.</i>) How +strange it is to be talked to in such a way! You know, I’ve always gone on like +that—I mean the noble attitude and the thrilling voice. I did it when I was a +tiny child to my nurse. She believed in it. I do it before my parents. They +believe in it. I do it before Sergius. He believes in it. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +Yes: he’s a little in that line himself, isn’t he? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>startled</i>). Do you think so? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +You know him better than I do. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +I wonder—I wonder is he? If I thought that—! (<i>Discouraged.</i>) Ah, well, +what does it matter? I suppose, now that you’ve found me out, you despise me. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +(<i>warmly, rising</i>). No, my dear young lady, no, no, no a thousand times. +It’s part of your youth—part of your charm. I’m like all the rest of them—the +nurse—your parents—Sergius: I’m your infatuated admirer. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>pleased</i>). Really? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +(<i>slapping his breast smartly with his hand, German fashion</i>). Hand aufs +Herz! Really and truly. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>very happy</i>). But what did you think of me for giving you my portrait? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +(<i>astonished</i>). Your portrait! You never gave me your portrait. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>quickly</i>). Do you mean to say you never got it? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +No. (<i>He sits down beside her, with renewed interest, and says, with some +complacency.</i>) When did you send it to me? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>indignantly</i>). I did not send it to you. (<i>She turns her head away, +and adds, reluctantly.</i>) It was in the pocket of that coat. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +(<i>pursing his lips and rounding his eyes</i>). Oh-o-oh! I never found it. It +must be there still. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>springing up</i>). There still!—for my father to find the first time he +puts his hand in his pocket! Oh, how could you be so stupid? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +(<i>rising also</i>). It doesn’t matter: it’s only a photograph: how can he +tell who it was intended for? Tell him he put it there himself. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>impatiently</i>). Yes, that is so clever—so clever! What shall I do? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +Ah, I see. You wrote something on it. That was rash! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>annoyed almost to tears</i>). Oh, to have done such a thing for you, who +care no more—except to laugh at me—oh! Are you sure nobody has touched it? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +Well, I can’t be quite sure. You see I couldn’t carry it about with me all the +time: one can’t take much luggage on active service. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +What did you do with it? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +When I got through to Peerot I had to put it in safe keeping somehow. I thought +of the railway cloak room; but that’s the surest place to get looted in modern +warfare. So I pawned it. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +Pawned it!!! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +I know it doesn’t sound nice; but it was much the safest plan. I redeemed it +the day before yesterday. Heaven only knows whether the pawnbroker cleared out +the pockets or not. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>furious—throwing the words right into his face</i>). You have a low, +shopkeeping mind. You think of things that would never come into a gentleman’s +head. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +(<i>phlegmatically</i>). That’s the Swiss national character, dear lady. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +Oh, I wish I had never met you. (<i>She flounces away and sits at the window +fuming.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="stage"> +(<i>Louka comes in with a heap of letters and telegrams on her salver, and +crosses, with her bold, free gait, to the table. Her left sleeve is looped up +to the shoulder with a brooch, shewing her naked arm, with a broad gilt +bracelet covering the bruise.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +(<i>to Bluntschli</i>). For you. (<i>She empties the salver recklessly on the +table.</i>) The messenger is waiting. (<i>She is determined not to be civil to +a Servian, even if she must bring him his letters.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +(<i>to Raina</i>). Will you excuse me: the last postal delivery that reached me +was three weeks ago. These are the subsequent accumulations. Four telegrams—a +week old. (<i>He opens one.</i>) Oho! Bad news! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>rising and advancing a little remorsefully</i>). Bad news? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +My father’s dead. (<i>He looks at the telegram with his lips pursed, musing on +the unexpected change in his arrangements.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +Oh, how very sad! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +Yes: I shall have to start for home in an hour. He has left a lot of big hotels +behind him to be looked after. (<i>Takes up a heavy letter in a long blue +envelope.</i>) Here’s a whacking letter from the family solicitor. (<i>He pulls +out the enclosures and glances over them.</i>) Great Heavens! Seventy! Two +hundred! (<i>In a crescendo of dismay.</i>) Four hundred! Four thousand!! Nine +thousand six hundred!!! What on earth shall I do with them all? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>timidly</i>). Nine thousand hotels? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +Hotels! Nonsense. If you only knew!—oh, it’s too ridiculous! Excuse me: I must +give my fellow orders about starting. (<i>He leaves the room hastily, with the +documents in his hand.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +(<i>tauntingly</i>). He has not much heart, that Swiss, though he is so fond of +the Servians. He has not a word of grief for his poor father. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>bitterly</i>). Grief!—a man who has been doing nothing but killing people +for years! What does he care? What does any soldier care? (<i>She goes to the +door, evidently restraining her tears with difficulty.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +Major Saranoff has been fighting, too; and he has plenty of heart left. +(<i>Raina, at the door, looks haughtily at her and goes out.</i>) Aha! I +thought you wouldn’t get much feeling out of your soldier. (<i>She is following +Raina when Nicola enters with an armful of logs for the fire.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +NICOLA.<br/> +(<i>grinning amorously at her</i>). I’ve been trying all the afternoon to get a +minute alone with you, my girl. (<i>His countenance changes as he notices her +arm.</i>) Why, what fashion is that of wearing your sleeve, child? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +(<i>proudly</i>). My own fashion. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +NICOLA.<br/> +Indeed! If the mistress catches you, she’ll talk to you. (<i>He throws the logs +down on the ottoman, and sits comfortably beside them.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +Is that any reason why you should take it on yourself to talk to me? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +NICOLA.<br/> +Come: don’t be so contrary with me. I’ve some good news for you. (<i>He takes +out some paper money. Louka, with an eager gleam in her eyes, comes close to +look at it.</i>) See, a twenty leva bill! Sergius gave me that out of pure +swagger. A fool and his money are soon parted. There’s ten levas more. The +Swiss gave me that for backing up the mistress’s and Raina’s lies about him. +He’s no fool, he isn’t. You should have heard old Catherine downstairs as +polite as you please to me, telling me not to mind the Major being a little +impatient; for they knew what a good servant I was—after making a fool and a +liar of me before them all! The twenty will go to our savings; and you shall +have the ten to spend if you’ll only talk to me so as to remind me I’m a human +being. I get tired of being a servant occasionally. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +(<i>scornfully</i>). Yes: sell your manhood for thirty levas, and buy me for +ten! Keep your money. You were born to be a servant. I was not. When you set up +your shop you will only be everybody’s servant instead of somebody’s servant. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +NICOLA.<br/> +(<i>picking up his logs, and going to the stove</i>). Ah, wait till you see. We +shall have our evenings to ourselves; and I shall be master in my own house, I +promise you. (<i>He throws the logs down and kneels at the stove.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +You shall never be master in mine. (<i>She sits down on Sergius’s chair.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +NICOLA.<br/> +(<i>turning, still on his knees, and squatting down rather forlornly, on his +calves, daunted by her implacable disdain</i>). You have a great ambition in +you, Louka. Remember: if any luck comes to you, it was I that made a woman of +you. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +You! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +NICOLA.<br/> +(<i>with dogged self-assertion</i>). Yes, me. Who was it made you give up +wearing a couple of pounds of false black hair on your head and reddening your +lips and cheeks like any other Bulgarian girl? I did. Who taught you to trim +your nails, and keep your hands clean, and be dainty about yourself, like a +fine Russian lady? Me! do you hear that? me! (<i>She tosses her head defiantly; +and he rises, ill-humoredly, adding more coolly</i>) I’ve often thought that if +Raina were out of the way, and you just a little less of a fool and Sergius +just a little more of one, you might come to be one of my grandest customers, +instead of only being my wife and costing me money. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +I believe you would rather be my servant than my husband. You would make more +out of me. Oh, I know that soul of yours. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +NICOLA.<br/> +(<i>going up close to her for greater emphasis</i>). Never you mind my soul; +but just listen to my advice. If you want to be a lady, your present behaviour +to me won’t do at all, unless when we’re alone. It’s too sharp and impudent; +and impudence is a sort of familiarity: it shews affection for me. And don’t +you try being high and mighty with me either. You’re like all country girls: +you think it’s genteel to treat a servant the way I treat a stable-boy. That’s +only your ignorance; and don’t you forget it. And don’t be so ready to defy +everybody. Act as if you expected to have your own way, not as if you expected +to be ordered about. The way to get on as a lady is the same as the way to get +on as a servant: you’ve got to know your place; that’s the secret of it. And +you may depend on me to know my place if you get promoted. Think over it, my +girl. I’ll stand by you: one servant should always stand by another. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +(<i>rising impatiently</i>). Oh, I must behave in my own way. You take all the +courage out of me with your cold-blooded wisdom. Go and put those logs on the +fire: that’s the sort of thing you understand. (<i>Before Nicola can retort, +Sergius comes in. He checks himself a moment on seeing Louka; then goes to the +stove.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>to Nicola</i>). I am not in the way of your work, I hope. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +NICOLA.<br/> +(<i>in a smooth, elderly manner</i>). Oh, no, sir, thank you kindly. I was only +speaking to this foolish girl about her habit of running up here to the library +whenever she gets a chance, to look at the books. That’s the worst of her +education, sir: it gives her habits above her station. (<i>To Louka.</i>) Make +that table tidy, Louka, for the Major. (<i>He goes out sedately.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="stage"> +(<i>Louka, without looking at Sergius, begins to arrange the papers on the +table. He crosses slowly to her, and studies the arrangement of her sleeve +reflectively.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +Let me see: is there a mark there? (<i>He turns up the bracelet and sees the +bruise made by his grasp. She stands motionless, not looking at him: +fascinated, but on her guard.</i>) Ffff! Does it hurt? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +Yes. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +Shall I cure it? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +(<i>instantly withdrawing herself proudly, but still not looking at him</i>). +No. You cannot cure it now. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>masterfully</i>). Quite sure? (<i>He makes a movement as if to take her in +his arms.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +Don’t trifle with me, please. An officer should not trifle with a servant. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>touching the arm with a merciless stroke of his forefinger</i>). That was +no trifle, Louka. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +No. (<i>Looking at him for the first time.</i>) Are you sorry? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>with measured emphasis, folding his arms</i>). I am never sorry. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +(<i>wistfully</i>). I wish I could believe a man could be so unlike a woman as +that. I wonder are you really a brave man? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>unaffectedly, relaxing his attitude</i>). Yes: I am a brave man. My heart +jumped like a woman’s at the first shot; but in the charge I found that I was +brave. Yes: that at least is real about me. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +Did you find in the charge that the men whose fathers are poor like mine were +any less brave than the men who are rich like you? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>with bitter levity.</i>) Not a bit. They all slashed and cursed and yelled +like heroes. Psha! the courage to rage and kill is cheap. I have an English +bull terrier who has as much of that sort of courage as the whole Bulgarian +nation, and the whole Russian nation at its back. But he lets my groom thrash +him, all the same. That’s your soldier all over! No, Louka, your poor men can +cut throats; but they are afraid of their officers; they put up with insults +and blows; they stand by and see one another punished like children—-aye, and +help to do it when they are ordered. And the officers!—-well (<i>with a short, +bitter laugh</i>) I am an officer. Oh, (<i>fervently</i>) give me the man who +will defy to the death any power on earth or in heaven that sets itself up +against his own will and conscience: he alone is the brave man. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +How easy it is to talk! Men never seem to me to grow up: they all have +schoolboy’s ideas. You don’t know what true courage is. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>ironically</i>). Indeed! I am willing to be instructed. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +Look at me! how much am I allowed to have my own will? I have to get your room +ready for you—to sweep and dust, to fetch and carry. How could that degrade me +if it did not degrade you to have it done for you? But (<i>with subdued +passion</i>) if I were Empress of Russia, above everyone in the world, then—ah, +then, though according to you I could shew no courage at all; you should see, +you should see. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +What would you do, most noble Empress? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +I would marry the man I loved, which no other queen in Europe has the courage +to do. If I loved you, though you would be as far beneath me as I am beneath +you, I would dare to be the equal of my inferior. Would you dare as much if you +loved me? No: if you felt the beginnings of love for me you would not let it +grow. You dare not: you would marry a rich man’s daughter because you would be +afraid of what other people would say of you. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>carried away</i>). You lie: it is not so, by all the stars! If I loved you, +and I were the Czar himself, I would set you on the throne by my side. You know +that I love another woman, a woman as high above you as heaven is above earth. +And you are jealous of her. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +I have no reason to be. She will never marry you now. The man I told you of has +come back. She will marry the Swiss. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>recoiling</i>). The Swiss! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +A man worth ten of you. Then you can come to me; and I will refuse you. You are +not good enough for me. (<i>She turns to the door.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>springing after her and catching her fiercely in his arms</i>). I will kill +the Swiss; and afterwards I will do as I please with you. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +(<i>in his arms, passive and steadfast</i>). The Swiss will kill you, perhaps. +He has beaten you in love. He may beat you in war. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>tormentedly</i>). Do you think I believe that she—she! whose worst thoughts +are higher than your best ones, is capable of trifling with another man behind +my back? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +Do you think she would believe the Swiss if he told her now that I am in your +arms? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>releasing her in despair</i>). Damnation! Oh, damnation! Mockery, mockery +everywhere: everything I think is mocked by everything I do. (<i>He strikes +himself frantically on the breast.</i>) Coward, liar, fool! Shall I kill myself +like a man, or live and pretend to laugh at myself? (<i>She again turns to +go.</i>) Louka! (<i>She stops near the door.</i>) Remember: you belong to me. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +(<i>quietly</i>). What does that mean—an insult? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>commandingly</i>). It means that you love me, and that I have had you here +in my arms, and will perhaps have you there again. Whether that is an insult I +neither know nor care: take it as you please. But (<i>vehemently</i>) I will +not be a coward and a trifler. If I choose to love you, I dare marry you, in +spite of all Bulgaria. If these hands ever touch you again, they shall touch my +affianced bride. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +We shall see whether you dare keep your word. But take care. I will not wait +long. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>again folding his arms and standing motionless in the middle of the +room</i>). Yes, we shall see. And you shall wait my pleasure. +</p> + +<p class="stage"> +(<i>Bluntschli, much preoccupied, with his papers still in his hand, enters, +leaving the door open for Louka to go out. He goes across to the table, +glancing at her as he passes. Sergius, without altering his resolute attitude, +watches him steadily. Louka goes out, leaving the door open.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +(<i>absently, sitting at the table as before, and putting down his papers</i>). +That’s a remarkable looking young woman. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>gravely, without moving</i>). Captain Bluntschli. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +Eh? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +You have deceived me. You are my rival. I brook no rivals. At six o’clock I +shall be in the drilling-ground on the Klissoura road, alone, on horseback, +with my sabre. Do you understand? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +(<i>staring, but sitting quite at his ease</i>). Oh, thank you: that’s a +cavalry man’s proposal. I’m in the artillery; and I have the choice of weapons. +If I go, I shall take a machine gun. And there shall be no mistake about the +cartridges this time. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>flushing, but with deadly coldness</i>). Take care, sir. It is not our +custom in Bulgaria to allow invitations of that kind to be trifled with. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +(<i>warmly</i>). Pooh! don’t talk to me about Bulgaria. You don’t know what +fighting is. But have it your own way. Bring your sabre along. I’ll meet you. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>fiercely delighted to find his opponent a man of spirit</i>). Well said, +Switzer. Shall I lend you my best horse? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +No: damn your horse!—-thank you all the same, my dear fellow. (<i>Raina comes +in, and hears the next sentence.</i>) I shall fight you on foot. Horseback’s +too dangerous: I don’t want to kill you if I can help it. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>hurrying forward anxiously</i>). I have heard what Captain Bluntschli said, +Sergius. You are going to fight. Why? (<i>Sergius turns away in silence, and +goes to the stove, where he stands watching her as she continues, to +Bluntschli</i>) What about? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +I don’t know: he hasn’t told me. Better not interfere, dear young lady. No harm +will be done: I’ve often acted as sword instructor. He won’t be able to touch +me; and I’ll not hurt him. It will save explanations. In the morning I shall be +off home; and you’ll never see me or hear of me again. You and he will then +make it up and live happily ever after. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>turning away deeply hurt, almost with a sob in her voice</i>). I never said +I wanted to see you again. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>striding forward</i>). Ha! That is a confession. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>haughtily</i>). What do you mean? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +You love that man! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>scandalized</i>). Sergius! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +You allow him to make love to you behind my back, just as you accept me as your +affianced husband behind his. Bluntschli: you knew our relations; and you +deceived me. It is for that that I call you to account, not for having received +favours that I never enjoyed. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +(<i>jumping up indignantly</i>). Stuff! Rubbish! I have received no favours. +Why, the young lady doesn’t even know whether I’m married or not. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>forgetting herself</i>). Oh! (<i>Collapsing on the ottoman.</i>) Are you? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +You see the young lady’s concern, Captain Bluntschli. Denial is useless. You +have enjoyed the privilege of being received in her own room, late at night— +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +(<i>interrupting him pepperily</i>). Yes; you blockhead! She received me with a +pistol at her head. Your cavalry were at my heels. I’d have blown out her +brains if she’d uttered a cry. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>taken aback</i>). Bluntschli! Raina: is this true? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>rising in wrathful majesty</i>). Oh, how dare you, how dare you? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +Apologize, man, apologize! (<i>He resumes his seat at the table.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>with the old measured emphasis, folding his arms</i>). I never apologize. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>passionately</i>). This is the doing of that friend of yours, Captain +Bluntschli. It is he who is spreading this horrible story about me. (<i>She +walks about excitedly.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +No: he’s dead—burnt alive. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>stopping, shocked</i>). Burnt alive! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +Shot in the hip in a wood yard. Couldn’t drag himself out. Your fellows’ shells +set the timber on fire and burnt him, with half a dozen other poor devils in +the same predicament. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +How horrible! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +And how ridiculous! Oh, war! war! the dream of patriots and heroes! A fraud, +Bluntschli, a hollow sham, like love. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>outraged</i>). Like love! You say that before me. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +Come, Saranoff: that matter is explained. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +A hollow sham, I say. Would you have come back here if nothing had passed +between you, except at the muzzle of your pistol? Raina is mistaken about our +friend who was burnt. He was not my informant. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +Who then? (<i>Suddenly guessing the truth.</i>) Ah, Louka! my maid, my servant! +You were with her this morning all that time after—-after—-Oh, what sort of god +is this I have been worshipping! (<i>He meets her gaze with sardonic enjoyment +of her disenchantment. Angered all the more, she goes closer to him, and says, +in a lower, intenser tone</i>) Do you know that I looked out of the window as I +went upstairs, to have another sight of my hero; and I saw something that I did +not understand then. I know now that you were making love to her. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>with grim humor</i>). You saw that? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +Only too well. (<i>She turns away, and throws herself on the divan under the +centre window, quite overcome.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>cynically</i>). Raina: our romance is shattered. Life’s a farce. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +(<i>to Raina, goodhumoredly</i>). You see: he’s found himself out now. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +Bluntschli: I have allowed you to call me a blockhead. You may now call me a +coward as well. I refuse to fight you. Do you know why? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +No; but it doesn’t matter. I didn’t ask the reason when you cried on; and I +don’t ask the reason now that you cry off. I’m a professional soldier. I fight +when I have to, and am very glad to get out of it when I haven’t to. You’re +only an amateur: you think fighting’s an amusement. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +You shall hear the reason all the same, my professional. The reason is that it +takes two men—real men—men of heart, blood and honor—to make a genuine combat. +I could no more fight with you than I could make love to an ugly woman. You’ve +no magnetism: you’re not a man, you’re a machine. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +(<i>apologetically</i>). Quite true, quite true. I always was that sort of +chap. I’m very sorry. But now that you’ve found that life isn’t a farce, but +something quite sensible and serious, what further obstacle is there to your +happiness? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>riling</i>). You are very solicitous about my happiness and his. Do you +forget his new love—Louka? It is not you that he must fight now, but his rival, +Nicola. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +Rival!! (<i>Striking his forehead.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +Did you not know that they are engaged? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +Nicola! Are fresh abysses opening! Nicola!! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>sarcastically</i>). A shocking sacrifice, isn’t it? Such beauty, such +intellect, such modesty, wasted on a middle-aged servant man! Really, Sergius, +you cannot stand by and allow such a thing. It would be unworthy of your +chivalry. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>losing all self-control</i>). Viper! Viper! (<i>He rushes to and fro, +raging.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +Look here, Saranoff; you’re getting the worst of this. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>getting angrier</i>). Do you realize what he has done, Captain Bluntschli? +He has set this girl as a spy on us; and her reward is that he makes love to +her. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +False! Monstrous! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +Monstrous! (<i>Confronting him.</i>) Do you deny that she told you about +Captain Bluntschli being in my room? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +No; but— +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>interrupting</i>). Do you deny that you were making love to her when she +told you? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +No; but I tell you— +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>cutting him short contemptuously</i>). It is unnecessary to tell us +anything more. That is quite enough for us. (<i>She turns her back on him and +sweeps majestically back to the window.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +(<i>quietly, as Sergius, in an agony of mortification, sinks on the ottoman, +clutching his averted head between his fists</i>). I told you you were getting +the worst of it, Saranoff. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +Tiger cat! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>running excitedly to Bluntschli</i>). You hear this man calling me names, +Captain Bluntschli? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +What else can he do, dear lady? He must defend himself somehow. Come (<i>very +persuasively</i>), don’t quarrel. What good does it do? (<i>Raina, with a gasp, +sits down on the ottoman, and after a vain effort to look vexedly at +Bluntschli, she falls a victim to her sense of humor, and is attacked with a +disposition to laugh.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +Engaged to Nicola! (<i>He rises.</i>) Ha! ha! (<i>Going to the stove and +standing with his back to it.</i>) Ah, well, Bluntschli, you are right to take +this huge imposture of a world coolly. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>to Bluntschli with an intuitive guess at his state of mind</i>). I daresay +you think us a couple of grown up babies, don’t you? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>grinning a little</i>). He does, he does. Swiss civilization nursetending +Bulgarian barbarism, eh? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +(<i>blushing</i>). Not at all, I assure you. I’m only very glad to get you two +quieted. There now, let’s be pleasant and talk it over in a friendly way. Where +is this other young lady? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +Listening at the door, probably. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>shivering as if a bullet had struck him, and speaking with quiet but deep +indignation</i>). I will prove that that, at least, is a calumny. (<i>He goes +with dignity to the door and opens it. A yell of fury bursts from him as he +looks out. He darts into the passage, and returns dragging in Louka, whom he +flings against the table, R., as he cries</i>) Judge her, Bluntschli—you, the +moderate, cautious man: judge the eavesdropper. +</p> + +<p class="stage"> +(<i>Louka stands her ground, proud and silent.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +(<i>shaking his head</i>). I mustn’t judge her. I once listened myself outside +a tent when there was a mutiny brewing. It’s all a question of the degree of +provocation. My life was at stake. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +My love was at stake. (<i>Sergius flinches, ashamed of her in spite of +himself.</i>) I am not ashamed. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>contemptuously</i>). Your love! Your curiosity, you mean. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +(<i>facing her and retorting her contempt with interest</i>). My love, stronger +than anything you can feel, even for your chocolate cream soldier. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>with quick suspicion—to Louka</i>). What does that mean? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +(<i>fiercely</i>). It means— +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>interrupting her slightingly</i>). Oh, I remember, the ice pudding. A +paltry taunt, girl. +</p> + +<p class="stage"> +(<i>Major Petkoff enters, in his shirtsleeves.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +Excuse my shirtsleeves, gentlemen. Raina: somebody has been wearing that coat +of mine: I’ll swear it—somebody with bigger shoulders than mine. It’s all burst +open at the back. Your mother is mending it. I wish she’d make haste. I shall +catch cold. (<i>He looks more attentively at them.</i>) Is anything the matter? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +No. (<i>She sits down at the stove with a tranquil air.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +Oh, no! (<i>He sits down at the end of the table, as at first.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +(<i>who is already seated</i>). Nothing, nothing. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +(<i>sitting down on the ottoman in his old place</i>). That’s all right. (<i>He +notices Louka.</i>) Anything the matter, Louka? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +No, sir. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +(<i>genially</i>). That’s all right. (<i>He sneezes.</i>) Go and ask your +mistress for my coat, like a good girl, will you? (<i>She turns to obey; but +Nicola enters with the coat; and she makes a pretence of having business in the +room by taking the little table with the hookah away to the wall near the +windows.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>rising quickly, as she sees the coat on Nicola’s arm</i>). Here it is, +papa. Give it to me, Nicola; and do you put some more wood on the fire. (<i>She +takes the coat, and brings it to the Major, who stands up to put it on. Nicola +attends to the fire.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +(<i>to Raina, teasing her affectionately</i>). Aha! Going to be very good to +poor old papa just for one day after his return from the wars, eh? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>with solemn reproach</i>). Ah, how can you say that to me, father? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +Well, well, only a joke, little one. Come, give me a kiss. (<i>She kisses +him.</i>) Now give me the coat. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +Now, I am going to put it on for you. Turn your back. (<i>He turns his back and +feels behind him with his arms for the sleeves. She dexterously takes the +photograph from the pocket and throws it on the table before Bluntschli, who +covers it with a sheet of paper under the very nose of Sergius, who looks on +amazed, with his suspicions roused in the highest degree. She then helps +Petkoff on with his coat.</i>) There, dear! Now are you comfortable? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +Quite, little love. Thanks. (<i>He sits down; and Raina returns to her seat +near the stove.</i>) Oh, by the bye, I’ve found something funny. What’s the +meaning of this? (<i>He put his hand into the picked pocket.</i>) Eh? Hallo! +(<i>He tries the other pocket.</i>) Well, I could have sworn—(<i>Much puzzled, +he tries the breast pocket.</i>) I wonder—(<i>Tries the original pocket.</i>) +Where can it—(<i>A light flashes on him; he rises, exclaiming</i>) Your +mother’s taken it. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>very red</i>). Taken what? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +Your photograph, with the inscription: “Raina, to her Chocolate Cream Soldier—a +souvenir.” Now you know there’s something more in this than meets the eye; and +I’m going to find it out. (<i>Shouting</i>) Nicola! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +NICOLA.<br/> +(<i>dropping a log, and turning</i>). Sir! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +Did you spoil any pastry of Miss Raina’s this morning? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +NICOLA.<br/> +You heard Miss Raina say that I did, sir. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +I know that, you idiot. Was it true? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +NICOLA.<br/> +I am sure Miss Raina is incapable of saying anything that is not true, sir. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +Are you? Then I’m not. (<i>Turning to the others.</i>) Come: do you think I +don’t see it all? (<i>Goes to Sergius, and slaps him on the shoulder.</i>) +Sergius: you’re the chocolate cream soldier, aren’t you? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>starting up</i>). I! a chocolate cream soldier! Certainly not. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +Not! (<i>He looks at them. They are all very serious and very conscious.</i>) +Do you mean to tell me that Raina sends photographic souvenirs to other men? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>enigmatically</i>). The world is not such an innocent place as we used to +think, Petkoff. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +(<i>rising</i>). It’s all right, Major. I’m the chocolate cream soldier. +(<i>Petkoff and Sergius are equally astonished.</i>) The gracious young lady +saved my life by giving me chocolate creams when I was starving—shall I ever +forget their flavour! My late friend Stolz told you the story at Peerot. I was +the fugitive. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +You! (<i>He gasps.</i>) Sergius: do you remember how those two women went on +this morning when we mentioned it? (<i>Sergius smiles cynically. Petkoff +confronts Raina severely.</i>) You’re a nice young woman, aren’t you? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>bitterly</i>). Major Saranoff has changed his mind. And when I wrote that +on the photograph, I did not know that Captain Bluntschli was married. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +(<i>much startled protesting vehemently</i>). I’m not married. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>with deep reproach</i>). You said you were. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +I did not. I positively did not. I never was married in my life. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +(<i>exasperated</i>). Raina: will you kindly inform me, if I am not asking too +much, which gentleman you are engaged to? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +To neither of them. This young lady (<i>introducing Louka, who faces them all +proudly</i>) is the object of Major Saranoff’s affections at present. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +Louka! Are you mad, Sergius? Why, this girl’s engaged to Nicola. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +NICOLA.<br/> +(<i>coming forward </i>). I beg your pardon, sir. There is a mistake. Louka is +not engaged to me. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +Not engaged to you, you scoundrel! Why, you had twenty-five levas from me on +the day of your betrothal; and she had that gilt bracelet from Miss Raina. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +NICOLA.<br/> +(<i>with cool unction</i>). We gave it out so, sir. But it was only to give +Louka protection. She had a soul above her station; and I have been no more +than her confidential servant. I intend, as you know, sir, to set up a shop +later on in Sofia; and I look forward to her custom and recommendation should +she marry into the nobility. (<i>He goes out with impressive discretion, +leaving them all staring after him.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +(<i>breaking the silence</i>). Well, I am—-hm! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +This is either the finest heroism or the most crawling baseness. Which is it, +Bluntschli? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +Never mind whether it’s heroism or baseness. Nicola’s the ablest man I’ve met +in Bulgaria. I’ll make him manager of a hotel if he can speak French and +German. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +(<i>suddenly breaking out at Sergius</i>). I have been insulted by everyone +here. You set them the example. You owe me an apology. (<i>Sergius immediately, +like a repeating clock of which the spring has been touched, begins to fold his +arms.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +(<i>before he can speak</i>). It’s no use. He never apologizes. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +Not to you, his equal and his enemy. To me, his poor servant, he will not +refuse to apologize. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>approvingly</i>). You are right. (<i>He bends his knee in his grandest +manner.</i>) Forgive me! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +I forgive you. (<i>She timidly gives him her hand, which he kisses.</i>) That +touch makes me your affianced wife. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>springing up</i>). Ah, I forgot that! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +(<i>coldly</i>). You can withdraw if you like. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +Withdraw! Never! You belong to me! (<i>He puts his arm about her and draws her +to him.</i>) (<i>Catherine comes in and finds Louka in Sergius’s arms, and all +the rest gazing at them in bewildered astonishment.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +What does this mean? (<i>Sergius releases Louka.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +Well, my dear, it appears that Sergius is going to marry Louka instead of +Raina. (<i>She is about to break out indignantly at him: he stops her by +exclaiming testily.</i>) Don’t blame me: I’ve nothing to do with it. (<i>He +retreats to the stove.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +Marry Louka! Sergius: you are bound by your word to us! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>folding his arms</i>). Nothing binds me. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +(<i>much pleased by this piece of common sense</i>). Saranoff: your hand. My +congratulations. These heroics of yours have their practical side after all. +(<i>To Louka.</i>) Gracious young lady: the best wishes of a good Republican! +(<i>He kisses her hand, to Raina’s great disgust.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +(<i>threateningly</i>). Louka: you have been telling stories. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +I have done Raina no harm. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +(<i>haughtily</i>). Raina! (<i>Raina is equally indignant at the liberty.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +I have a right to call her Raina: she calls me Louka. I told Major Saranoff she +would never marry him if the Swiss gentleman came back. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +(<i>surprised</i>). Hallo! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +LOUKA.<br/> +(<i>turning to Raina</i>). I thought you were fonder of him than of Sergius. +You know best whether I was right. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +What nonsense! I assure you, my dear Major, my dear Madame, the gracious young +lady simply saved my life, nothing else. She never cared two straws for me. +Why, bless my heart and soul, look at the young lady and look at me. She, rich, +young, beautiful, with her imagination full of fairy princes and noble natures +and cavalry charges and goodness knows what! And I, a common-place Swiss +soldier who hardly knows what a decent life is after fifteen years of barracks +and battles—a vagabond—a man who has spoiled all his chances in life through an +incurably romantic disposition—a man— +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>starting as if a needle had pricked him and interrupting Bluntschli in +incredulous amazement</i>). Excuse me, Bluntschli: what did you say had spoiled +your chances in life? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +(<i>promptly</i>). An incurably romantic disposition. I ran away from home +twice when I was a boy. I went into the army instead of into my father’s +business. I climbed the balcony of this house when a man of sense would have +dived into the nearest cellar. I came sneaking back here to have another look +at the young lady when any other man of my age would have sent the coat back— +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +My coat! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.—Yes: that’s the coat I mean—would have sent it back and gone +quietly home. Do you suppose I am the sort of fellow a young girl falls in love +with? Why, look at our ages! I’m thirty-four: I don’t suppose the young lady is +much over seventeen. (<i>This estimate produces a marked sensation, all the +rest turning and staring at one another. He proceeds innocently.</i>) All that +adventure which was life or death to me, was only a schoolgirl’s game to +her—chocolate creams and hide and seek. Here’s the proof! (<i>He takes the +photograph from the table.</i>) Now, I ask you, would a woman who took the +affair seriously have sent me this and written on it: “Raina, to her chocolate +cream soldier—a souvenir”? (<i>He exhibits the photograph triumphantly, as if +it settled the matter beyond all possibility of refutation.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +That’s what I was looking for. How the deuce did it get there? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +(<i>to Raina complacently</i>). I have put everything right, I hope, gracious +young lady! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>in uncontrollable vexation</i>). I quite agree with your account of +yourself. You are a romantic idiot. (<i>Bluntschli is unspeakably taken +aback.</i>) Next time I hope you will know the difference between a schoolgirl +of seventeen and a woman of twenty-three. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +(<i>stupefied</i>). Twenty-three! (<i>She snaps the photograph contemptuously +from his hand; tears it across; and throws the pieces at his feet.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +(<i>with grim enjoyment of Bluntschli’s discomfiture</i>). Bluntschli: my one +last belief is gone. Your sagacity is a fraud, like all the other things. You +have less sense than even I have. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +(<i>overwhelmed</i>). Twenty-three! Twenty-three!! (<i>He considers.</i>) Hm! +(<i>Swiftly making up his mind.</i>) In that case, Major Petkoff, I beg to +propose formally to become a suitor for your daughter’s hand, in place of Major +Saranoff retired. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +You dare! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +If you were twenty-three when you said those things to me this afternoon, I +shall take them seriously. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +(<i>loftily polite</i>). I doubt, sir, whether you quite realize either my +daughter’s position or that of Major Sergius Saranoff, whose place you propose +to take. The Petkoffs and the Saranoffs are known as the richest and most +important families in the country. Our position is almost historical: we can go +back for nearly twenty years. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +Oh, never mind that, Catherine. (<i>To Bluntschli.</i>) We should be most +happy, Bluntschli, if it were only a question of your position; but hang it, +you know, Raina is accustomed to a very comfortable establishment. Sergius +keeps twenty horses. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +But what on earth is the use of twenty horses? Why, it’s a circus. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +(<i>severely</i>). My daughter, sir, is accustomed to a first-rate stable. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +Hush, mother, you’re making me ridiculous. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +Oh, well, if it comes to a question of an establishment, here goes! (<i>He goes +impetuously to the table and seizes the papers in the blue envelope.</i>) How +many horses did you say? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +Twenty, noble Switzer! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +I have two hundred horses. (<i>They are amazed.</i>) How many carriages? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +Three. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +I have seventy. Twenty-four of them will hold twelve inside, besides two on the +box, without counting the driver and conductor. How many tablecloths have you? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +How the deuce do I know? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +Have you four thousand? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +NO. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +I have. I have nine thousand six hundred pairs of sheets and blankets, with two +thousand four hundred eider-down quilts. I have ten thousand knives and forks, +and the same quantity of dessert spoons. I have six hundred servants. I have +six palatial establishments, besides two livery stables, a tea garden and a +private house. I have four medals for distinguished services; I have the rank +of an officer and the standing of a gentleman; and I have three native +languages. Show me any man in Bulgaria that can offer as much. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +(<i>with childish awe</i>). Are you Emperor of Switzerland? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +My rank is the highest known in Switzerland: I’m a free citizen. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +CATHERINE.<br/> +Then Captain Bluntschli, since you are my daughter’s choice, I shall not stand +in the way of her happiness. (<i>Petkoff is about to speak.</i>) That is Major +Petkoff’s feeling also. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +PETKOFF.<br/> +Oh, I shall be only too glad. Two hundred horses! Whew! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +What says the lady? +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>pretending to sulk</i>). The lady says that he can keep his tablecloths and +his omnibuses. I am not here to be sold to the highest bidder. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +I won’t take that answer. I appealed to you as a fugitive, a beggar, and a +starving man. You accepted me. You gave me your hand to kiss, your bed to sleep +in, and your roof to shelter me— +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>interrupting him</i>). I did not give them to the Emperor of Switzerland! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +That’s just what I say. (<i>He catches her hand quickly and looks her straight +in the face as he adds, with confident mastery</i>) Now tell us who you did +give them to. +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +RAINA.<br/> +(<i>succumbing with a shy smile</i>). To my chocolate cream soldier! +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.<br/> +(<i>with a boyish laugh of delight</i>). That’ll do. Thank you. (<i>Looks at +his watch and suddenly becomes businesslike.</i>) Time’s up, Major. You’ve +managed those regiments so well that you are sure to be asked to get rid of +some of the Infantry of the Teemok division. Send them home by way of Lom +Palanka. Saranoff: don’t get married until I come back: I shall be here +punctually at five in the evening on Tuesday fortnight. Gracious ladies—good +evening. (<i>He makes them a military bow, and goes.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="dialog"> +SERGIUS.<br/> +What a man! What a man! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ARMS AND THE MAN ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ +concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, +and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following +the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use +of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for +copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very +easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation +of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project +Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away—you may +do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected +by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark +license, especially commercial redistribution. +</div> + +<div style='margin-top:1em; font-size:1.1em; text-align:center'>START: FULL LICENSE</div> +<div style='text-align:center;font-size:0.9em'>THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE</div> +<div style='text-align:center;font-size:0.9em'>PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full +Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at +www.gutenberg.org/license. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™ +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or +destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your +possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a +Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound +by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person +or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this +agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™ +electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the +Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection +of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual +works in the collection are in the public domain in the United +States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the +United States and you are located in the United States, we do not +claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, +displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as +all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope +that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting +free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™ +works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the +Project Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily +comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the +same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when +you share it without charge with others. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are +in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, +check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this +agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, +distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any +other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no +representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any +country other than the United States. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other +immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear +prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work +on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the +phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, +performed, viewed, copied or distributed: +</div> + +<blockquote> + <div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> + This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most + other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions + whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms + of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online + at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you + are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws + of the country where you are located before using this eBook. + </div> +</blockquote> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is +derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not +contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the +copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in +the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are +redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply +either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or +obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™ +trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any +additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms +will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works +posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the +beginning of this work. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™ +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg™ License. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including +any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access +to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format +other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official +version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website +(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense +to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means +of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain +Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the +full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works +provided that: +</div> + +<div style='margin-left:0.7em;'> + <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> + • You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed + to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has + agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project + Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid + within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are + legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty + payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project + Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in + Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg + Literary Archive Foundation.” + </div> + + <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> + • You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ + License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all + copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue + all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™ + works. + </div> + + <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> + • You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of + any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of + receipt of the work. + </div> + + <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> + • You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works. + </div> +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project +Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than +are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing +from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of +the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set +forth in Section 3 below. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project +Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™ +electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may +contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate +or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other +intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or +other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or +cannot be read by your equipment. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right +of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium +with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you +with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in +lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person +or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second +opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If +the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing +without further opportunities to fix the problem. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO +OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of +damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement +violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the +agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or +limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or +unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the +remaining provisions. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in +accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the +production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ +electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, +including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of +the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this +or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or +additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any +Defect you cause. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™ +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of +computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It +exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations +from people in all walks of life. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™’s +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future +generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see +Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by +U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, +Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up +to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website +and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread +public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND +DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state +visit <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/donate/">www.gutenberg.org/donate</a>. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To +donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project +Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be +freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and +distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of +volunteer support. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in +the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not +necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper +edition. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Most people start at our website which has the main PG search +facility: <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. +</div> + +</div> + +</body> + +</html> + + diff --git a/3618-h/images/cover.jpg b/3618-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..02fb986 --- /dev/null +++ b/3618-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2950806 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #3618 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/3618) diff --git a/old/2015-06-15_3618-h.zip b/old/2015-06-15_3618-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2bd6612 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/2015-06-15_3618-h.zip diff --git a/old/2015-06-15_3618.zip b/old/2015-06-15_3618.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..78308bd --- /dev/null +++ b/old/2015-06-15_3618.zip diff --git a/old/3618-h.htm b/old/3618-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1c4d5bd --- /dev/null +++ b/old/3618-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5550 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<HTML> +<HEAD> + +<META HTTP-EQUIV="Content-Type" CONTENT="text/html; charset=US-ASCII"> + +<TITLE> +The Project Gutenberg E-text of Arms and the Man, by George Bernard Shaw +</TITLE> + +<STYLE TYPE="text/css"> +BODY { color: Black; + background: White; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + text-align: justify } + +P {text-indent: 4% } + +P.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +P.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%;} + +P.stage {text-indent: 0%; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-left: 10%;} + +P.dialog {text-indent: -5%; + margin-left: 5%;} + +P.finis { font-size: larger ; + text-align: center ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +</STYLE> + +</HEAD> + +<BODY> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Arms and the Man, by George Bernard Shaw + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net + + +Title: Arms and the Man + +Author: George Bernard Shaw + +Posting Date: November 21, 2010 [EBook #3618] +Release Date: January, 2003 +First Posted: June 17, 2001 +Last Updated: June 21, 2015 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ARMS AND THE MAN *** + + + + +Produced by Jim Tinsley <jtinsley@pobox.com> with help +from the distributed proofreaders at +http://charlz.dynip.com/gutenberg + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<BR><BR> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +Arms and the Man +</H1> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +by George Bernard Shaw +</H3> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +INTRODUCTION +</H3> + +<P> +To the irreverent—and which of us will claim entire exemption from that +comfortable classification?—there is something very amusing in the +attitude of the orthodox criticism toward Bernard Shaw. He so obviously +disregards all the canons and unities and other things which every +well-bred dramatist is bound to respect that his work is really unworthy +of serious criticism (orthodox). Indeed he knows no more about the +dramatic art than, according to his own story in "The Man of Destiny," +Napoleon at Tavazzano knew of the Art of War. But both men were +successes each in his way—the latter won victories and the former +gained audiences, in the very teeth of the accepted theories of war and +the theatre. Shaw does not know that it is unpardonable sin to have his +characters make long speeches at one another, apparently thinking that +this embargo applies only to long speeches which consist mainly of +bombast and rhetoric. There never was an author who showed less +predilection for a specific medium by which to accomplish his results. +He recognized, early in his days, many things awry in the world and he +assumed the task of mundane reformation with a confident spirit. It +seems such a small job at twenty to set the times aright. He began as an +Essayist, but who reads essays now-a-days?—he then turned novelist with +no better success, for no one would read such preposterous stuff as he +chose to emit. He only succeeded in proving that absolutely rational men +and women—although he has created few of the latter—can be most +extremely disagreeable to our conventional way of thinking. +</P> + +<P> +As a last resort, he turned to the stage, not that he cared for the +dramatic art, for no man seems to care less about "Art for Art's sake," +being in this a perfect foil to his brilliant compatriot and +contemporary, Wilde. He cast his theories in dramatic forms merely +because no other course except silence or physical revolt was open to +him. For a long time it seemed as if this resource too was doomed to +fail him. But finally he has attained a hearing and now attempts at +suppression merely serve to advertise their victim. +</P> + +<P> +It will repay those who seek analogies in literature to compare Shaw +with Cervantes. After a life of heroic endeavor, disappointment, +slavery, and poverty, the author of "Don Quixote" gave the world a +serious work which caused to be laughed off the world's stage forever +the final vestiges of decadent chivalry. +</P> + +<P> +The institution had long been outgrown, but its vernacular continued to +be the speech and to express the thought "of the world and among the +vulgar," as the quaint, old novelist puts it, just as to-day the novel +intended for the consumption of the unenlightened must deal with peers +and millionaires and be dressed in stilted language. Marvellously he +succeeded, but in a way he least intended. We have not yet, after so +many years, determined whether it is a work to laugh or cry over. "It is +our joyfullest modern book," says Carlyle, while Landor thinks that +"readers who see nothing more than a burlesque in 'Don Quixote' have but +shallow appreciation of the work." +</P> + +<P> +Shaw in like manner comes upon the scene when many of our social usages +are outworn. He sees the fact, announces it, and we burst into guffaws. +The continuous laughter which greets Shaw's plays arises from a real +contrast in the point of view of the dramatist and his audiences. When +Pinero or Jones describes a whimsical situation we never doubt for a +moment that the author's point of view is our own and that the abnormal +predicament of his characters appeals to him in the same light as to his +audience. With Shaw this sense of community of feeling is wholly +lacking. He describes things as he sees them, and the house is in a +roar. Who is right? If we were really using our own senses and not +gazing through the glasses of convention and romance and make-believe, +should we see things as Shaw does? +</P> + +<P> +Must it not cause Shaw to doubt his own or the public's sanity to hear +audiences laughing boisterously over tragic situations? And yet, if they +did not come to laugh, they would not come at all. Mockery is the price +he must pay for a hearing. Or has he calculated to a nicety the power of +reaction? Does he seek to drive us to aspiration by the portrayal of +sordidness, to disinterestedness by the picture of selfishness, to +illusion by disillusionment? It is impossible to believe that he is +unconscious of the humor of his dramatic situations, yet he stoically +gives no sign. He even dares the charge, terrible in proportion to its +truth, which the most serious of us shrinks from—the lack of a sense of +humor. Men would rather have their integrity impugned. +</P> + +<P> +In "Arms and the Man" the subject which occupies the dramatist's +attention is that survival of barbarity—militarism—which raises its +horrid head from time to time to cast a doubt on the reality of our +civilization. No more hoary superstition survives than that the donning +of a uniform changes the nature of the wearer. This notion pervades +society to such an extent that when we find some soldiers placed upon +the stage acting rationally, our conventionalized senses are shocked. +The only men who have no illusions about war are those who have recently +been there, and, of course, Mr. Shaw, who has no illusions about +anything. +</P> + +<P> +It is hard to speak too highly of "Candida." No equally subtle and +incisive study of domestic relations exists in the English drama. One +has to turn to George Meredith's "The Egoist" to find such character +dissection. The central note of the play is, that with the true woman, +weakness which appeals to the maternal instinct is more powerful than +strength which offers protection. Candida is quite unpoetic, as, indeed, +with rare exceptions, women are prone to be. They have small delight in +poetry, but are the stuff of which poems and dreams are made. The +husband glorying in his strength but convicted of his weakness, the poet +pitiful in his physical impotence but strong in his perception of truth, +the hopelessly de-moralized manufacturer, the conventional and hence +emotional typist make up a group which the drama of any language may be +challenged to rival. +</P> + +<P> +In "The Man of Destiny" the object of the dramatist is not so much the +destruction as the explanation of the Napoleonic tradition, which has so +powerfully influenced generation after generation for a century. However +the man may be regarded, he was a miracle. Shaw shows that he achieved +his extraordinary career by suspending, for himself, the pressure of the +moral and conventional atmosphere, while leaving it operative for +others. Those who study this play—extravaganza, that it is—will attain +a clearer comprehension of Napoleon than they can get from all the +biographies. +</P> + +<P> +"You Never Can Tell" offers an amusing study of the play of social +conventions. The "twins" illustrate the disconcerting effects of that +perfect frankness which would make life intolerable. Gloria demonstrates +the powerlessness of reason to overcome natural instincts. The idea that +parental duties and functions can be fulfilled by the light of such +knowledge as man and woman attain by intuition is brilliantly lampooned. +Crampton, the father, typifies the common superstition that among the +privileges of parenthood are inflexibility, tyranny, and respect, the +last entirely regardless of whether it has been deserved. +</P> + +<P> +The waiter, William, is the best illustration of the man "who knows his +place" that the stage has seen. He is the most pathetic figure of the +play. One touch of verisimilitude is lacking; none of the guests gives +him a tip, yet he maintains his urbanity. As Mr. Shaw has not yet +visited America he may be unaware of the improbability of this +situation. +</P> + +<P> +To those who regard literary men merely as purveyors of amusement for +people who have not wit enough to entertain themselves, Ibsen and Shaw, +Maeterlinck and Gorky must remain enigmas. It is so much pleasanter to +ignore than to face unpleasant realities—to take Riverside Drive and +not Mulberry Street as the exponent of our life and the expression of +our civilization. These men are the sappers and miners of the advancing +army of justice. The audience which demands the truth and despises the +contemptible conventions that dominate alike our stage and our life is +daily growing. Shaw and men like him—if indeed he is not absolutely +unique—will not for the future lack a hearing. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +M. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +ARMS AND THE MAN +</H2> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +ACT I +</H3> + +<P CLASS="stage"> + Night. A lady's bedchamber in Bulgaria, in a small + town near the Dragoman Pass. It is late in + November in the year 1885, and through an open + window with a little balcony on the left can be + seen a peak of the Balkans, wonderfully white and + beautiful in the starlit snow. The interior of the + room is not like anything to be seen in the east + of Europe. It is half rich Bulgarian, half cheap + Viennese. The counterpane and hangings of the bed, + the window curtains, the little carpet, and all + the ornamental textile fabrics in the room are + oriental and gorgeous: the paper on the walls is + occidental and paltry. Above the head of the bed, + which stands against a little wall cutting off the + right hand corner of the room diagonally, is a + painted wooden shrine, blue and gold, with an + ivory image of Christ, and a light hanging before + it in a pierced metal ball suspended by three + chains. On the left, further forward, is an + ottoman. The washstand, against the wall on the + left, consists of an enamelled iron basin with a + pail beneath it in a painted metal frame, and a + single towel on the rail at the side. A chair near + it is Austrian bent wood, with cane seat. The + dressing table, between the bed and the window, is + an ordinary pine table, covered with a cloth of + many colors, but with an expensive toilet mirror + on it. The door is on the right; and there is a + chest of drawers between the door and the bed. + This chest of drawers is also covered by a + variegated native cloth, and on it there is a pile + of paper backed novels, a box of chocolate creams, + and a miniature easel, on which is a large + photograph of an extremely handsome officer, whose + lofty bearing and magnetic glance can be felt even + from the portrait. The room is lighted by a candle + on the chest of drawers, and another on the + dressing table, with a box of matches beside it. +</P> + +<P CLASS="stage"> + The window is hinged doorwise and stands wide + open, folding back to the left. Outside a pair of + wooden shutters, opening outwards, also stand + open. On the balcony, a young lady, intensely + conscious of the romantic beauty of the night, and + of the fact that her own youth and beauty is a part + of it, is on the balcony, gazing at the snowy + Balkans. She is covered by a long mantle of furs, + worth, on a moderate estimate, about three times + the furniture of her room. +</P> + +<P CLASS="stage"> + Her reverie is interrupted by her mother, + Catherine Petkoff, a woman over forty, imperiously + energetic, with magnificent black hair and eyes, + who might be a very splendid specimen of the wife + of a mountain farmer, but is determined to be a + Viennese lady, and to that end wears a fashionable + tea gown on all occasions. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE (entering hastily, full of good news). Raina—(she +pronounces it Rah-eena, with the stress on the ee) Raina—(she +goes to the bed, expecting to find Raina there.) Why, +where—(Raina looks into the room.) Heavens! child, are you out +in the night air instead of in your bed? You'll catch your +death. Louka told me you were asleep. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (coming in). I sent her away. I wanted to be alone. The +stars are so beautiful! What is the matter? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE. Such news. There has been a battle! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (her eyes dilating). Ah! (She throws the cloak on the +ottoman, and comes eagerly to Catherine in her nightgown, a +pretty garment, but evidently the only one she has on.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE. A great battle at Slivnitza! A victory! And it was +won by Sergius. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (with a cry of delight). Ah! (Rapturously.) Oh, mother! +(Then, with sudden anxiety) Is father safe? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE. Of course: he sent me the news. Sergius is the hero +of the hour, the idol of the regiment. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. Tell me, tell me. How was it! (Ecstatically) Oh, mother, +mother, mother! (Raina pulls her mother down on the ottoman; and +they kiss one another frantically.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE (with surging enthusiasm). You can't guess how +splendid it is. A cavalry charge—think of that! He defied our +Russian commanders—acted without orders—led a charge on his +own responsibility—headed it himself—was the first man to +sweep through their guns. Can't you see it, Raina; our gallant +splendid Bulgarians with their swords and eyes flashing, +thundering down like an avalanche and scattering the wretched +Servian dandies like chaff. And you—you kept Sergius waiting a +year before you would be betrothed to him. Oh, if you have a +drop of Bulgarian blood in your veins, you will worship him when +he comes back. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. What will he care for my poor little worship after the +acclamations of a whole army of heroes? But no matter: I am so +happy—so proud! (She rises and walks about excitedly.) It +proves that all our ideas were real after all. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE (indignantly). Our ideas real! What do you mean? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. Our ideas of what Sergius would do—our patriotism—our +heroic ideals. Oh, what faithless little creatures girls are!—I +sometimes used to doubt whether they were anything but dreams. +When I buckled on Sergius's sword he looked so noble: it was +treason to think of disillusion or humiliation or failure. And +yet—and yet—(Quickly.) Promise me you'll never tell him. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE. Don't ask me for promises until I know what I am +promising. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. Well, it came into my head just as he was holding me in +his arms and looking into my eyes, that perhaps we only had our +heroic ideas because we are so fond of reading Byron and +Pushkin, and because we were so delighted with the opera that +season at Bucharest. Real life is so seldom like that—indeed +never, as far as I knew it then. (Remorsefully.) Only think, +mother, I doubted him: I wondered whether all his heroic +qualities and his soldiership might not prove mere imagination +when he went into a real battle. I had an uneasy fear that he +might cut a poor figure there beside all those clever Russian +officers. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE. A poor figure! Shame on you! The Servians have +Austrian officers who are just as clever as our Russians; but we +have beaten them in every battle for all that. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (laughing and sitting down again). Yes, I was only a +prosaic little coward. Oh, to think that it was all true—that +Sergius is just as splendid and noble as he looks—that the +world is really a glorious world for women who can see its glory +and men who can act its romance! What happiness! what +unspeakable fulfilment! Ah! (She throws herself on her knees +beside her mother and flings her arms passionately round her. +They are interrupted by the entry of Louka, a handsome, proud +girl in a pretty Bulgarian peasant's dress with double apron, so +defiant that her servility to Raina is almost insolent. She is +afraid of Catherine, but even with her goes as far as she dares. +She is just now excited like the others; but she has no sympathy +for Raina's raptures and looks contemptuously at the ecstasies +of the two before she addresses them.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA. If you please, madam, all the windows are to be closed +and the shutters made fast. They say there may be shooting in +the streets. (Raina and Catherine rise together, alarmed.) The +Servians are being chased right back through the pass; and they +say they may run into the town. Our cavalry will be after them; +and our people will be ready for them you may be sure, now that +they are running away. (She goes out on the balcony and pulls +the outside shutters to; then steps back into the room.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. I wish our people were not so cruel. What glory is there +in killing wretched fugitives? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE (business-like, her housekeeping instincts aroused). +I must see that everything is made safe downstairs. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (to Louka). Leave the shutters so that I can just close +them if I hear any noise. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE (authoritatively, turning on her way to the door). +Oh, no, dear, you must keep them fastened. You would be sure to +drop off to sleep and leave them open. Make them fast, Louka. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA. Yes, madam. (She fastens them.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. Don't be anxious about me. The moment I hear a shot, I +shall blow out the candles and roll myself up in bed with my +ears well covered. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE. Quite the wisest thing you can do, my love. +Good-night. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. Good-night. (They kiss one another, and Raina's emotion +comes back for a moment.) Wish me joy of the happiest night of +my life—if only there are no fugitives. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE. Go to bed, dear; and don't think of them. (She goes +out.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA (secretly, to Raina). If you would like the shutters +open, just give them a push like this. (She pushes them: they +open: she pulls them to again.) One of them ought to be bolted +at the bottom; but the bolt's gone. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (with dignity, reproving her). Thanks, Louka; but we must +do what we are told. (Louka makes a grimace.) Good-night. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA (carelessly). Good-night. (She goes out, swaggering.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="stage"> + (Raina, left alone, goes to the chest of drawers, + and adores the portrait there with feelings that + are beyond all expression. She does not kiss it or + press it to her breast, or shew it any mark of + bodily affection; but she takes it in her hands + and elevates it like a priestess.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (looking up at the picture with worship.) Oh, I shall +never be unworthy of you any more, my hero—never, never, never. +</P> + +<P CLASS="stage"> + (She replaces it reverently, and selects a novel + from the little pile of books. She turns over the + leaves dreamily; finds her page; turns the book + inside out at it; and then, with a happy sigh, + gets into bed and prepares to read herself to + sleep. But before abandoning herself to fiction, + she raises her eyes once more, thinking of the + blessed reality and murmurs) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +My hero! my hero! +</P> + +<P CLASS="stage"> + (A distant shot breaks the quiet of the night + outside. She starts, listening; and two more + shots, much nearer, follow, startling her so that + she scrambles out of bed, and hastily blows out + the candle on the chest of drawers. Then, putting + her fingers in her ears, she runs to the + dressing-table and blows out the light there, and + hurries back to bed. The room is now in darkness: + nothing is visible but the glimmer of the light in + the pierced ball before the image, and the + starlight seen through the slits at the top of the + shutters. The firing breaks out again: there is a + startling fusillade quite close at hand. Whilst it + is still echoing, the shutters disappear, pulled + open from without, and for an instant the + rectangle of snowy starlight flashes out with the + figure of a man in black upon it. The shutters + close immediately and the room is dark again. But + the silence is now broken by the sound of panting. + Then there is a scrape; and the flame of a match + is seen in the middle of the room.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (crouching on the bed). Who's there? (The match is out +instantly.) Who's there? Who is that? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +A MAN'S VOICE (in the darkness, subduedly, but threateningly). +Sh—sh! Don't call out or you'll be shot. Be good; and no harm +will happen to you. (She is heard leaving her bed, and making +for the door.) Take care, there's no use in trying to run away. +Remember, if you raise your voice my pistol will go off. +(Commandingly.) Strike a light and let me see you. Do you hear? +(Another moment of silence and darkness. Then she is heard +retreating to the dressing-table. She lights a candle, and the +mystery is at an end. A man of about 35, in a deplorable plight, +bespattered with mud and blood and snow, his belt and the strap +of his revolver case keeping together the torn ruins of the blue +coat of a Servian artillery officer. As far as the candlelight +and his unwashed, unkempt condition make it possible to judge, +he is a man of middling stature and undistinguished appearance, +with strong neck and shoulders, a roundish, obstinate looking +head covered with short crisp bronze curls, clear quick blue +eyes and good brows and mouth, a hopelessly prosaic nose like +that of a strong-minded baby, trim soldierlike carriage and +energetic manner, and with all his wits about him in spite of +his desperate predicament—even with a sense of humor of it, +without, however, the least intention of trifling with it or +throwing away a chance. He reckons up what he can guess about +Raina—her age, her social position, her character, the extent +to which she is frightened—at a glance, and continues, more +politely but still most determinedly) Excuse my disturbing you; +but you recognise my uniform—Servian. If I'm caught I shall be +killed. (Determinedly.) Do you understand that? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. Yes. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN. Well, I don't intend to get killed if I can help it. (Still +more determinedly.) Do you understand that? (He locks the door +with a snap.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (disdainfully). I suppose not. (She draws herself up +superbly, and looks him straight in the face, saying with +emphasis) Some soldiers, I know, are afraid of death. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN (with grim goodhumor). All of them, dear lady, all of them, +believe me. It is our duty to live as long as we can, and kill +as many of the enemy as we can. Now if you raise an alarm— +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (cutting him short). You will shoot me. How do you know +that I am afraid to die? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN (cunningly). Ah; but suppose I don't shoot you, what will +happen then? Why, a lot of your cavalry—the greatest +blackguards in your army—will burst into this pretty room of +yours and slaughter me here like a pig; for I'll fight like a +demon: they shan't get me into the street to amuse themselves +with: I know what they are. Are you prepared to receive that +sort of company in your present undress? (Raina, suddenly +conscious of her nightgown, instinctively shrinks and gathers it +more closely about her. He watches her, and adds, pitilessly) +It's rather scanty, eh? (She turns to the ottoman. He raises his +pistol instantly, and cries) Stop! (She stops.) Where are you +going? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (with dignified patience). Only to get my cloak. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN (darting to the ottoman and snatching the cloak). A good +idea. No: I'll keep the cloak: and you will take care that +nobody comes in and sees you without it. This is a better weapon +than the pistol. (He throws the pistol down on the ottoman.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (revolted). It is not the weapon of a gentleman! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN. It's good enough for a man with only you to stand between +him and death. (As they look at one another for a moment, Raina +hardly able to believe that even a Servian officer can be so +cynically and selfishly unchivalrous, they are startled by a +sharp fusillade in the street. The chill of imminent death +hushes the man's voice as he adds) Do you hear? If you are going +to bring those scoundrels in on me you shall receive them as you +are. (Raina meets his eye with unflinching scorn. Suddenly he +starts, listening. There is a step outside. Someone tries the +door, and then knocks hurriedly and urgently at it. Raina looks +at the man, breathless. He throws up his head with the gesture +of a man who sees that it is all over with him, and, dropping +the manner which he has been assuming to intimidate her, flings +the cloak to her, exclaiming, sincerely and kindly) No use: I'm +done for. Quick! wrap yourself up: they're coming! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (catching the cloak eagerly). Oh, thank you. (She wraps +herself up with great relief. He draws his sabre and turns to +the door, waiting.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA (outside, knocking). My lady, my lady! Get up, quick, and +open the door. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (anxiously). What will you do? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN (grimly). Never mind. Keep out of the way. It will not last +long. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (impulsively). I'll help you. Hide yourself, oh, hide +yourself, quick, behind the curtain. (She seizes him by a torn +strip of his sleeve, and pulls him towards the window.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN (yielding to her). There is just half a chance, if you keep +your head. Remember: nine soldiers out of ten are born fools. +(He hides behind the curtain, looking out for a moment to say, +finally) If they find me, I promise you a fight—a devil of a +fight! (He disappears. Raina takes off the cloak and throws it +across the foot of the bed. Then with a sleepy, disturbed air, +she opens the door. Louka enters excitedly.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA. A man has been seen climbing up the water-pipe to your +balcony—a Servian. The soldiers want to search for him; and +they are so wild and drunk and furious. My lady says you are to +dress at once. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (as if annoyed at being disturbed). They shall not search +here. Why have they been let in? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE (coming in hastily). Raina, darling, are you safe? +Have you seen anyone or heard anything? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. I heard the shooting. Surely the soldiers will not dare +come in here? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE. I have found a Russian officer, thank Heaven: he +knows Sergius. (Speaking through the door to someone outside.) +Sir, will you come in now! My daughter is ready. +</P> + +<P CLASS="stage"> + (A young Russian officer, in Bulgarian uniform, + enters, sword in hand.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +THE OFFICER. (with soft, feline politeness and stiff military +carriage). Good evening, gracious lady; I am sorry to intrude, +but there is a fugitive hiding on the balcony. Will you and the +gracious lady your mother please to withdraw whilst we search? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (petulantly). Nonsense, sir, you can see that there is no +one on the balcony. (She throws the shutters wide open and +stands with her back to the curtain where the man is hidden, +pointing to the moonlit balcony. A couple of shots are fired +right under the window, and a bullet shatters the glass opposite +Raina, who winks and gasps, but stands her ground, whilst +Catherine screams, and the officer rushes to the balcony.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +THE OFFICER. (on the balcony, shouting savagely down to the +street). Cease firing there, you fools: do you hear? Cease +firing, damn you. (He glares down for a moment; then turns to +Raina, trying to resume his polite manner.) Could anyone have +got in without your knowledge? Were you asleep? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. No, I have not been to bed. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +THE OFFICER. (impatiently, coming back into the room). Your +neighbours have their heads so full of runaway Servians that +they see them everywhere. (Politely.) Gracious lady, a thousand +pardons. Good-night. (Military bow, which Raina returns coldly. +Another to Catherine, who follows him out. Raina closes the +shutters. She turns and sees Louka, who has been watching the +scene curiously.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. Don't leave my mother, Louka, whilst the soldiers are +here. (Louka glances at Raina, at the ottoman, at the curtain; +then purses her lips secretively, laughs to herself, and goes +out. Raina follows her to the door, shuts it behind her with a +slam, and locks it violently. The man immediately steps out from +behind the curtain, sheathing his sabre, and dismissing the +danger from his mind in a businesslike way.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN. A narrow shave; but a miss is as good as a mile. Dear young +lady, your servant until death. I wish for your sake I had +joined the Bulgarian army instead of the Servian. I am not a +native Servian. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (haughtily). No, you are one of the Austrians who set the +Servians on to rob us of our national liberty, and who officer +their army for them. We hate them! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN. Austrian! not I. Don't hate me, dear young lady. I am only +a Swiss, fighting merely as a professional soldier. I joined +Servia because it was nearest to me. Be generous: you've beaten +us hollow. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. Have I not been generous? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN. Noble!—heroic! But I'm not saved yet. This particular rush +will soon pass through; but the pursuit will go on all night by +fits and starts. I must take my chance to get off during a quiet +interval. You don't mind my waiting just a minute or two, do +you? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. Oh, no: I am sorry you will have to go into danger again. +(Motioning towards ottoman.) Won't you sit—(She breaks off +with an irrepressible cry of alarm as she catches sight of the +pistol. The man, all nerves, shies like a frightened horse.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN (irritably). Don't frighten me like that. What is it? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. Your pistol! It was staring that officer in the face all +the time. What an escape! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN (vexed at being unnecessarily terrified). Oh, is that all? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (staring at him rather superciliously, conceiving a +poorer and poorer opinion of him, and feeling proportionately +more and more at her ease with him). I am sorry I frightened +you. (She takes up the pistol and hands it to him.) Pray take it +to protect yourself against me. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN (grinning wearily at the sarcasm as he takes the pistol). +No use, dear young lady: there's nothing in it. It's not loaded. +(He makes a grimace at it, and drops it disparagingly into his +revolver case.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. Load it by all means. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN. I've no ammunition. What use are cartridges in battle? I +always carry chocolate instead; and I finished the last cake of +that yesterday. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (outraged in her most cherished ideals of manhood). +Chocolate! Do you stuff your pockets with sweets—like a +schoolboy—even in the field? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN. Yes. Isn't it contemptible? +</P> + +<P CLASS="stage"> + (Raina stares at him, unable to utter her + feelings. Then she sails away scornfully to the + chest of drawers, and returns with the box of + confectionery in her hand.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. Allow me. I am sorry I have eaten them all except these. +(She offers him the box.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN (ravenously). You're an angel! (He gobbles the comfits.) +Creams! Delicious! (He looks anxiously to see whether there are +any more. There are none. He accepts the inevitable with +pathetic goodhumor, and says, with grateful emotion) Bless you, +dear lady. You can always tell an old soldier by the inside of +his holsters and cartridge boxes. The young ones carry pistols +and cartridges; the old ones, grub. Thank you. (He hands back +the box. She snatches it contemptuously from him and throws it +away. This impatient action is so sudden that he shies again.) +Ugh! Don't do things so suddenly, gracious lady. Don't revenge +yourself because I frightened you just now. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (superbly). Frighten me! Do you know, sir, that though I +am only a woman, I think I am at heart as brave as you. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN. I should think so. You haven't been under fire for three +days as I have. I can stand two days without shewing it much; +but no man can stand three days: I'm as nervous as a mouse. (He +sits down on the ottoman, and takes his head in his hands.) +Would you like to see me cry? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (quickly). No. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN. If you would, all you have to do is to scold me just as if +I were a little boy and you my nurse. If I were in camp now +they'd play all sorts of tricks on me. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (a little moved). I'm sorry. I won't scold you. (Touched +by the sympathy in her tone, he raises his head and looks +gratefully at her: she immediately draws back and says stiffly) +You must excuse me: our soldiers are not like that. (She moves +away from the ottoman.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN. Oh, yes, they are. There are only two sorts of soldiers: +old ones and young ones. I've served fourteen years: half of +your fellows never smelt powder before. Why, how is it that +you've just beaten us? Sheer ignorance of the art of war, +nothing else. (Indignantly.) I never saw anything so +unprofessional. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (ironically). Oh, was it unprofessional to beat you? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN. Well, come, is it professional to throw a regiment of +cavalry on a battery of machine guns, with the dead certainty +that if the guns go off not a horse or man will ever get within +fifty yards of the fire? I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw +it. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (eagerly turning to him, as all her enthusiasm and her +dream of glory rush back on her). Did you see the great cavalry +charge? Oh, tell me about it. Describe it to me. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN. You never saw a cavalry charge, did you? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. How could I? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN. Ah, perhaps not—of course. Well, it's a funny sight. It's +like slinging a handful of peas against a window pane: first one +comes; then two or three close behind him; and then all the rest +in a lump. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (her eyes dilating as she raises her clasped hands +ecstatically). Yes, first One!—the bravest of the brave! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN (prosaically). Hm! you should see the poor devil pulling at +his horse. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. Why should he pull at his horse? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN (impatient of so stupid a question). It's running away with +him, of course: do you suppose the fellow wants to get there +before the others and be killed? Then they all come. You can +tell the young ones by their wildness and their slashing. The +old ones come bunched up under the number one guard: they know +that they are mere projectiles, and that it's no use trying to +fight. The wounds are mostly broken knees, from the horses +cannoning together. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. Ugh! But I don't believe the first man is a coward. I +believe he is a hero! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN (goodhumoredly). That's what you'd have said if you'd seen +the first man in the charge to-day. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (breathless). Ah, I knew it! Tell me—tell me about him. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN. He did it like an operatic tenor—a regular handsome +fellow, with flashing eyes and lovely moustache, shouting a +war-cry and charging like Don Quixote at the windmills. We +nearly burst with laughter at him; but when the sergeant ran up +as white as a sheet, and told us they'd sent us the wrong +cartridges, and that we couldn't fire a shot for the next ten +minutes, we laughed at the other side of our mouths. I never +felt so sick in my life, though I've been in one or two very +tight places. And I hadn't even a revolver cartridge—nothing +but chocolate. We'd no bayonets—nothing. Of course, they just +cut us to bits. And there was Don Quixote flourishing like a +drum major, thinking he'd done the cleverest thing ever known, +whereas he ought to be courtmartialled for it. Of all the fools +ever let loose on a field of battle, that man must be the very +maddest. He and his regiment simply committed suicide—only the +pistol missed fire, that's all. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (deeply wounded, but steadfastly loyal to her ideals). +Indeed! Would you know him again if you saw him? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN. Shall I ever forget him. (She again goes to the chest of +drawers. He watches her with a vague hope that she may have +something else for him to eat. She takes the portrait from its +stand and brings it to him.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. That is a photograph of the gentleman—the patriot and +hero—to whom I am betrothed. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN (looking at it). I'm really very sorry. (Looking at her.) +Was it fair to lead me on? (He looks at the portrait again.) +Yes: that's him: not a doubt of it. (He stifles a laugh.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (quickly). Why do you laugh? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN (shamefacedly, but still greatly tickled). I didn't laugh, +I assure you. At least I didn't mean to. But when I think of him +charging the windmills and thinking he was doing the finest +thing—(chokes with suppressed laughter). +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (sternly). Give me back the portrait, sir. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN (with sincere remorse). Of course. Certainly. I'm really +very sorry. (She deliberately kisses it, and looks him straight +in the face, before returning to the chest of drawers to replace +it. He follows her, apologizing.) Perhaps I'm quite wrong, you +know: no doubt I am. Most likely he had got wind of the +cartridge business somehow, and knew it was a safe job. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. That is to say, he was a pretender and a coward! You did +not dare say that before. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN (with a comic gesture of despair). It's no use, dear lady: +I can't make you see it from the professional point of view. (As +he turns away to get back to the ottoman, the firing begins +again in the distance.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (sternly, as she sees him listening to the shots). So +much the better for you. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN (turning). How? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. You are my enemy; and you are at my mercy. What would I +do if I were a professional soldier? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN. Ah, true, dear young lady: you're always right. I know how +good you have been to me: to my last hour I shall remember those +three chocolate creams. It was unsoldierly; but it was angelic. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (coldly). Thank you. And now I will do a soldierly thing. +You cannot stay here after what you have just said about my +future husband; but I will go out on the balcony and see whether +it is safe for you to climb down into the street. (She turns to +the window.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN (changing countenance). Down that waterpipe! Stop! Wait! I +can't! I daren't! The very thought of it makes me giddy. I came +up it fast enough with death behind me. But to face it now in +cold blood!—(He sinks on the ottoman.) It's no use: I give up: +I'm beaten. Give the alarm. (He drops his head in his hands in +the deepest dejection.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (disarmed by pity). Come, don't be disheartened. (She +stoops over him almost maternally: he shakes his head.) Oh, you +are a very poor soldier—a chocolate cream soldier. Come, cheer +up: it takes less courage to climb down than to face +capture—remember that. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN (dreamily, lulled by her voice). No, capture only means +death; and death is sleep—oh, sleep, sleep, sleep, undisturbed +sleep! Climbing down the pipe means doing something—exerting +myself—thinking! Death ten times over first. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (softly and wonderingly, catching the rhythm of his +weariness). Are you so sleepy as that? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN. I've not had two hours' undisturbed sleep since the war +began. I'm on the staff: you don't know what that means. I +haven't closed my eyes for thirty-six hours. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (desperately). But what am I to do with you. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN (staggering up). Of course I must do something. (He shakes +himself; pulls himself together; and speaks with rallied vigour +and courage.) You see, sleep or no sleep, hunger or no hunger, +tired or not tired, you can always do a thing when you know it +must be done. Well, that pipe must be got down—(He hits himself +on the chest, and adds)—Do you hear that, you chocolate cream +soldier? (He turns to the window.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (anxiously). But if you fall? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN. I shall sleep as if the stones were a feather bed. +Good-bye. (He makes boldly for the window, and his hand is on +the shutter when there is a terrible burst of firing in the +street beneath.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (rushing to him). Stop! (She catches him by the shoulder, +and turns him quite round.) They'll kill you. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN (coolly, but attentively). Never mind: this sort of thing +is all in my day's work. I'm bound to take my chance. +(Decisively.) Now do what I tell you. Put out the candles, so +that they shan't see the light when I open the shutters. And +keep away from the window, whatever you do. If they see me, +they're sure to have a shot at me. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (clinging to him). They're sure to see you: it's bright +moonlight. I'll save you—oh, how can you be so indifferent? You +want me to save you, don't you? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN. I really don't want to be troublesome. (She shakes him in +her impatience.) I am not indifferent, dear young lady, I assure +you. But how is it to be done? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. Come away from the window—please. (She coaxes him back +to the middle of the room. He submits humbly. She releases him, +and addresses him patronizingly.) Now listen. You must trust to +our hospitality. You do not yet know in whose house you are. I +am a Petkoff. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN. What's that? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (rather indignantly). I mean that I belong to the family +of the Petkoffs, the richest and best known in our country. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN. Oh, yes, of course. I beg your pardon. The Petkoffs, to be +sure. How stupid of me! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. You know you never heard of them until this minute. How +can you stoop to pretend? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN. Forgive me: I'm too tired to think; and the change of +subject was too much for me. Don't scold me. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. I forgot. It might make you cry. (He nods, quite +seriously. She pouts and then resumes her patronizing tone.) I +must tell you that my father holds the highest command of any +Bulgarian in our army. He is (proudly) a Major. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN (pretending to be deeply impressed). A Major! Bless me! +Think of that! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. You shewed great ignorance in thinking that it was +necessary to climb up to the balcony, because ours is the only +private house that has two rows of windows. There is a flight of +stairs inside to get up and down by. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN. Stairs! How grand! You live in great luxury indeed, dear +young lady. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. Do you know what a library is? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN. A library? A roomful of books. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. Yes, we have one, the only one in Bulgaria. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN. Actually a real library! I should like to see that. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (affectedly). I tell you these things to shew you that +you are not in the house of ignorant country folk who would kill +you the moment they saw your Servian uniform, but among +civilized people. We go to Bucharest every year for the opera +season; and I have spent a whole month in Vienna. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN. I saw that, dear young lady. I saw at once that you knew +the world. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. Have you ever seen the opera of Ernani? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN. Is that the one with the devil in it in red velvet, and a +soldier's chorus? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (contemptuously). No! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN (stifling a heavy sigh of weariness). Then I don't know it. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. I thought you might have remembered the great scene where +Ernani, flying from his foes just as you are tonight, takes +refuge in the castle of his bitterest enemy, an old Castilian +noble. The noble refuses to give him up. His guest is sacred to +him. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN (quickly waking up a little). Have your people got that +notion? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (with dignity). My mother and I can understand that +notion, as you call it. And if instead of threatening me with +your pistol as you did, you had simply thrown yourself as a +fugitive on our hospitality, you would have been as safe as in +your father's house. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN. Quite sure? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (turning her back on him in disgust.) Oh, it is useless +to try and make you understand. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN. Don't be angry: you see how awkward it would be for me if +there was any mistake. My father is a very hospitable man: he +keeps six hotels; but I couldn't trust him as far as that. What +about YOUR father? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. He is away at Slivnitza fighting for his country. I +answer for your safety. There is my hand in pledge of it. Will +that reassure you? (She offers him her hand.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN (looking dubiously at his own hand). Better not touch my +hand, dear young lady. I must have a wash first. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (touched). That is very nice of you. I see that you are a +gentleman. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN (puzzled). Eh? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. You must not think I am surprised. Bulgarians of really +good standing—people in OUR position—wash their hands nearly +every day. But I appreciate your delicacy. You may take my hand. +(She offers it again.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN (kissing it with his hands behind his back). Thanks, +gracious young lady: I feel safe at last. And now would you mind +breaking the news to your mother? I had better not stay here +secretly longer than is necessary. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. If you will be so good as to keep perfectly still whilst +I am away. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN. Certainly. (He sits down on the ottoman.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="stage"> + (Raina goes to the bed and wraps herself in the + fur cloak. His eyes close. She goes to the door, + but on turning for a last look at him, sees that + he is dropping of to sleep.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (at the door). You are not going asleep, are you? +(He murmurs inarticulately: she runs to him and shakes him.) +Do you hear? Wake up: you are falling asleep. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN. Eh? Falling aslee—? Oh, no, not the least in +the world: I was only thinking. It's all right: I'm wide +awake. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (severely). Will you please stand up while I am +away. (He rises reluctantly.) All the time, mind. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN (standing unsteadily). Certainly—certainly: you +may depend on me. +</P> + +<P CLASS="stage"> + (Raina looks doubtfully at him. He smiles + foolishly. She goes reluctantly, turning + again at the door, and almost catching him + in the act of yawning. She goes out.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MAN (drowsily). Sleep, sleep, sleep, sleep, slee—(The +words trail off into a murmur. He wakes again with a +shock on the point of falling.) Where am I? That's what +I want to know: where am I? Must keep awake. Nothing +keeps me awake except danger—remember that—(intently) +danger, danger, danger, dan— Where's danger? Must +find it. (He starts of vaguely around the room in search of +it.) What am I looking for? Sleep—danger—don't know. +(He stumbles against the bed.) Ah, yes: now I know. All +right now. I'm to go to bed, but not to sleep—be sure +not to sleep—because of danger. Not to lie down, either, +only sit down. (He sits on the bed. A blissful expression +comes into his face.) Ah! (With a happy sigh he sinks back +at full length; lifts his boots into the bed with a final +effort; and falls fast asleep instantly.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="stage"> + (Catherine comes in, followed by Raina.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (looking at the ottoman). He's gone! I left him +here. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE, Here! Then he must have climbed down from the— +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (seeing him). Oh! (She points.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE (scandalized). Well! (She strides to the left +side of the bed, Raina following and standing opposite her on +the right.) He's fast asleep. The brute! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (anxiously). Sh! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE (shaking him). Sir! (Shaking him again, +harder.) Sir!! (Vehemently shaking very bard.) Sir!!! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (catching her arm). Don't, mamma: the poor dear +is worn out. Let him sleep. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE (letting him go and turning amazed to Raina). +The poor dear! Raina!!! (She looks sternly at her +daughter. The man sleeps profoundly.) +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +ACT II +</H3> + +<P CLASS="stage"> + The sixth of March, 1886. In the garden of major + Petkoff's house. It is a fine spring morning; and + the garden looks fresh and pretty. Beyond the + paling the tops of a couple of minarets can be + seen, shewing that there is a valley there, with + the little town in it. A few miles further the + Balkan mountains rise and shut in the view. Within + the garden the side of the house is seen on the + right, with a garden door reached by a little + flight of steps. On the left the stable yard, with + its gateway, encroaches on the garden. There are + fruit bushes along the paling and house, covered + with washing hung out to dry. A path runs by the + house, and rises by two steps at the corner where + it turns out of the right along the front. In the + middle a small table, with two bent wood chairs at + it, is laid for breakfast with Turkish coffee pot, + cups, rolls, etc.; but the cups have been used and + the bread broken. There is a wooden garden seat + against the wall on the left. +</P> + +<P CLASS="stage"> + Louka, smoking a cigaret, is standing between the + table and the house, turning her back with angry + disdain on a man-servant who is lecturing her. He + is a middle-aged man of cool temperament and low + but clear and keen intelligence, with the + complacency of the servant who values himself on + his rank in servility, and the imperturbability of + the accurate calculator who has no illusions. He + wears a white Bulgarian costume jacket with + decorated border, sash, wide knickerbockers, and + decorated gaiters. His head is shaved up to the + crown, giving him a high Japanese forehead. His + name is Nicola. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +NICOLA. Be warned in time, Louka: mend your manners. I know the +mistress. She is so grand that she never dreams that any servant +could dare to be disrespectful to her; but if she once suspects +that you are defying her, out you go. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA. I do defy her. I will defy her. What do I care for her? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +NICOLA. If you quarrel with the family, I never can marry you. +It's the same as if you quarrelled with me! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA. You take her part against me, do you? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +NICOLA (sedately). I shall always be dependent on the good will +of the family. When I leave their service and start a shop in +Sofia, their custom will be half my capital: their bad word +would ruin me. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA. You have no spirit. I should like to see them dare say a +word against me! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +NICOLA (pityingly). I should have expected more sense from you, +Louka. But you're young, you're young! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA. Yes; and you like me the better for it, don't you? But I +know some family secrets they wouldn't care to have told, young +as I am. Let them quarrel with me if they dare! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +NICOLA (with compassionate superiority). Do you know what they +would do if they heard you talk like that? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA. What could they do? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +NICOLA. Discharge you for untruthfulness. Who would believe any +stories you told after that? Who would give you another +situation? Who in this house would dare be seen speaking to you +ever again? How long would your father be left on his little +farm? (She impatiently throws away the end of her cigaret, and +stamps on it.) Child, you don't know the power such high people +have over the like of you and me when we try to rise out of our +poverty against them. (He goes close to her and lowers his +voice.) Look at me, ten years in their service. Do you think I +know no secrets? I know things about the mistress that she +wouldn't have the master know for a thousand levas. I know +things about him that she wouldn't let him hear the last of for +six months if I blabbed them to her. I know things about Raina +that would break off her match with Sergius if— +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA (turning on him quickly). How do you know? I never told +you! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +NICOLA (opening his eyes cunningly). So that's your little +secret, is it? I thought it might be something like that. Well, +you take my advice, and be respectful; and make the mistress +feel that no matter what you know or don't know, they can depend +on you to hold your tongue and serve the family faithfully. +That's what they like; and that's how you'll make most out of +them. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA (with searching scorn). You have the soul of a servant, +Nicola. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +NICOLA (complacently). Yes: that's the secret of success in +service. +</P> + +<P CLASS="stage"> + (A loud knocking with a whip handle on a wooden + door, outside on the left, is heard.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +MALE VOICE OUTSIDE. Hollo! Hollo there! Nicola! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA. Master! back from the war! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +NICOLA (quickly). My word for it, Louka, the war's over. Off +with you and get some fresh coffee. (He runs out into the stable +yard.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA (as she puts the coffee pot and the cups upon the tray, +and carries it into the house). You'll never put the soul of a +servant into me. +</P> + +<P CLASS="stage"> + (Major Petkoff comes from the stable yard, + followed by Nicola. He is a cheerful, excitable, + insignificant, unpolished man of about 50, + naturally unambitious except as to his income and + his importance in local society, but just now + greatly pleased with the military rank which the + war has thrust on him as a man of consequence in + his town. The fever of plucky patriotism which the + Servian attack roused in all the Bulgarians has + pulled him through the war; but he is obviously + glad to be home again.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF (pointing to the table with his whip). Breakfast out +here, eh? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +NICOLA. Yes, sir. The mistress and Miss Raina have just gone in. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF (fitting down and taking a roll). Go in and say I've +come; and get me some fresh coffee. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +NICOLA. It's coming, sir. (He goes to the house door. Louka, +with fresh coffee, a clean cup, and a brandy bottle on her tray +meets him.) Have you told the mistress? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA. Yes: she's coming. +</P> + +<P CLASS="stage"> + (Nicola goes into the house. Louka brings the + coffee to the table.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF. Well, the Servians haven't run away with you, have +they? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA. No, sir. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF. That's right. Have you brought me some cognac? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA (putting the bottle on the table). Here, sir. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF. That's right. (He pours some into his coffee.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="stage"> + (Catherine who has at this early hour made only a + very perfunctory toilet, and wears a Bulgarian + apron over a once brilliant, but now half worn out + red dressing gown, and a colored handkerchief tied + over her thick black hair, with Turkish slippers + on her bare feet, comes from the house, looking + astonishingly handsome and stately under all the + circumstances. Louka goes into the house.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE. My dear Paul, what a surprise for us. (She stoops +over the back of his chair to kiss him.) Have they brought you +fresh coffee? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF. Yes, Louka's been looking after me. The war's over. The +treaty was signed three days ago at Bucharest; and the decree +for our army to demobilize was issued yesterday. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE (springing erect, with flashing eyes). The war over! +Paul: have you let the Austrians force you to make peace? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF (submissively). My dear: they didn't consult me. What +could <I>I</I> do? (She sits down and turns away from him.) But of +course we saw to it that the treaty was an honorable one. It +declares peace— +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE (outraged). Peace! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF (appeasing her).—but not friendly relations: remember +that. They wanted to put that in; but I insisted on its being +struck out. What more could I do? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE. You could have annexed Servia and made Prince +Alexander Emperor of the Balkans. That's what I would have done. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF. I don't doubt it in the least, my dear. But I should +have had to subdue the whole Austrian Empire first; and that +would have kept me too long away from you. I missed you greatly. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE (relenting). Ah! (Stretches her hand affectionately +across the table to squeeze his.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF. And how have you been, my dear? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE. Oh, my usual sore throats, that's all. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF (with conviction). That comes from washing your neck +every day. I've often told you so. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE. Nonsense, Paul! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF (over his coffee and cigaret). I don't believe in going +too far with these modern customs. All this washing can't be +good for the health: it's not natural. There was an Englishman +at Phillipopolis who used to wet himself all over with cold +water every morning when he got up. Disgusting! It all comes +from the English: their climate makes them so dirty that they +have to be perpetually washing themselves. Look at my father: he +never had a bath in his life; and he lived to be ninety-eight, +the healthiest man in Bulgaria. I don't mind a good wash once a +week to keep up my position; but once a day is carrying the +thing to a ridiculous extreme. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE. You are a barbarian at heart still, Paul. I hope you +behaved yourself before all those Russian officers. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF. I did my best. I took care to let them know that we had +a library. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE. Ah; but you didn't tell them that we have an electric +bell in it? I have had one put up. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF. What's an electric bell? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE. You touch a button; something tinkles in the kitchen; +and then Nicola comes up. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF. Why not shout for him? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE. Civilized people never shout for their servants. I've +learnt that while you were away. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF. Well, I'll tell you something I've learnt, too. +Civilized people don't hang out their washing to dry where +visitors can see it; so you'd better have all that (indicating +the clothes on the bushes) put somewhere else. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE. Oh, that's absurd, Paul: I don't believe really +refined people notice such things. +</P> + +<P CLASS="stage"> + (Someone is heard knocking at the stable gates.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF. There's Sergius. (Shouting.) Hollo, Nicola! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE. Oh, don't shout, Paul: it really isn't nice. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF. Bosh! (He shouts louder than before.) Nicola! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +NICOLA (appearing at the house door). Yes, sir. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF. If that is Major Saranoff, bring him round this way. +(He pronounces the name with the stress on the second +syllable—Sarah-noff.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +NICOLA. Yes, sir. (He goes into the stable yard.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF. You must talk to him, my dear, until Raina takes him +off our hands. He bores my life out about our not promoting +him—over my head, mind you. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE. He certainly ought to be promoted when he marries +Raina. Besides, the country should insist on having at least one +native general. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF. Yes, so that he could throw away whole brigades instead +of regiments. It's no use, my dear: he has not the slightest +chance of promotion until we are quite sure that the peace will +be a lasting one. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +NICOLA (at the gate, announcing). Major Sergius Saranoff! (He +goes into the house and returns presently with a third chair, +which he places at the table. He then withdraws.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="stage"> + (Major Sergius Saranoff, the original of the + portrait in Raina's room, is a tall, romantically + handsome man, with the physical hardihood, the + high spirit, and the susceptible imagination of an + untamed mountaineer chieftain. But his remarkable + personal distinction is of a characteristically + civilized type. The ridges of his eyebrows, + curving with a ram's-horn twist round the marked + projections at the outer corners, his jealously + observant eye, his nose, thin, keen, and + apprehensive in spite of the pugnacious high + bridge and large nostril, his assertive chin, + would not be out of place in a Paris salon. In + short, the clever, imaginative barbarian has an + acute critical faculty which has been thrown into + intense activity by the arrival of western + civilization in the Balkans; and the result is + precisely what the advent of nineteenth-century + thought first produced in England: to-wit, + Byronism. By his brooding on the perpetual + failure, not only of others, but of himself, to + live up to his imaginative ideals, his consequent + cynical scorn for humanity, the jejune credulity + as to the absolute validity of his ideals and the + unworthiness of the world in disregarding them, + his wincings and mockeries under the sting of the + petty disillusions which every hour spent among + men brings to his infallibly quick observation, he + has acquired the half tragic, half ironic air, the + mysterious moodiness, the suggestion of a strange + and terrible history that has left him nothing but + undying remorse, by which Childe Harold fascinated + the grandmothers of his English contemporaries. + Altogether it is clear that here or nowhere is + Raina's ideal hero. Catherine is hardly less + enthusiastic, and much less reserved in shewing + her enthusiasm. As he enters from the stable gate, + she rises effusively to greet him. Petkoff is + distinctly less disposed to make a fuss about + him.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF. Here already, Sergius. Glad to see you! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE. My dear Sergius!(She holds out both her hands.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (kissing them with scrupulous gallantry). My dear +mother, if I may call you so. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF (drily). Mother-in-law, Sergius; mother-in-law! Sit +down, and have some coffee. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS. Thank you, none for me. (He gets away from the table +with a certain distaste for Petkoff's enjoyment of it, and posts +himself with conscious grace against the rail of the steps +leading to the house.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE. You look superb—splendid. The campaign has improved +you. Everybody here is mad about you. We were all wild with +enthusiasm about that magnificent cavalry charge. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (with grave irony). Madam: it was the cradle and the +grave of my military reputation. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE. How so? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS. I won the battle the wrong way when our worthy Russian +generals were losing it the right way. That upset their plans, +and wounded their self-esteem. Two of their colonels got their +regiments driven back on the correct principles of scientific +warfare. Two major-generals got killed strictly according to +military etiquette. Those two colonels are now major-generals; +and I am still a simple major. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE. You shall not remain so, Sergius. The women are on +your side; and they will see that justice is done you. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS. It is too late. I have only waited for the peace to +send in my resignation. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF (dropping his cup in his amazement). Your resignation! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE. Oh, you must withdraw it! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (with resolute, measured emphasis, folding his arms). I +never withdraw! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF (vexed). Now who could have supposed you were going to +do such a thing? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (with fire). Everyone that knew me. But enough of +myself and my affairs. How is Raina; and where is Raina? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (suddenly coming round the corner of the house and +standing at the top of the steps in the path). Raina is here. +(She makes a charming picture as they all turn to look at her. +She wears an underdress of pale green silk, draped with an +overdress of thin ecru canvas embroidered with gold. On her head +she wears a pretty Phrygian cap of gold tinsel. Sergius, with an +exclamation of pleasure, goes impulsively to meet her. She +stretches out her hand: he drops chivalrously on one knee and +kisses it.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF (aside to Catherine, beaming with parental pride). +Pretty, isn't it? She always appears at the right moment. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE (impatiently). Yes: she listens for it. It is an +abominable habit. +</P> + +<P CLASS="stage"> + (Sergius leads Raina forward with splendid gallantry, + as if she were a queen. When they come to the + table, she turns to him with a bend of the head; + he bows; and thus they separate, he coming to his + place, and she going behind her father's chair.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (stooping and kissing her father). Dear father! Welcome +home! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF (patting her cheek). My little pet girl. (He kisses +her; she goes to the chair left by Nicola for Sergius, and sits +down.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE. And so you're no longer a soldier, Sergius. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS. I am no longer a soldier. Soldiering, my dear madam, is +the coward's art of attacking mercilessly when you are strong, +and keeping out of harm's way when you are weak. That is the +whole secret of successful fighting. Get your enemy at a +disadvantage; and never, on any account, fight him on equal +terms. Eh, Major! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF. They wouldn't let us make a fair stand-up fight of it. +However, I suppose soldiering has to be a trade like any other +trade. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS. Precisely. But I have no ambition to succeed as a +tradesman; so I have taken the advice of that bagman of a +captain that settled the exchange of prisoners with us at +Peerot, and given it up. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF. What, that Swiss fellow? Sergius: I've often thought of +that exchange since. He over-reached us about those horses. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS. Of course he over-reached us. His father was a hotel +and livery stable keeper; and he owed his first step to his +knowledge of horse-dealing. (With mock enthusiasm.) Ah, he was a +soldier—every inch a soldier! If only I had bought the horses +for my regiment instead of foolishly leading it into danger, I +should have been a field-marshal now! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE. A Swiss? What was he doing in the Servian army? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF. A volunteer of course—keen on picking up his +profession. (Chuckling.) We shouldn't have been able to begin +fighting if these foreigners hadn't shewn us how to do it: we +knew nothing about it; and neither did the Servians. Egad, +there'd have been no war without them. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. Are there many Swiss officers in the Servian Army? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF. No—all Austrians, just as our officers were all +Russians. This was the only Swiss I came across. I'll never +trust a Swiss again. He cheated us—humbugged us into giving +him fifty able bodied men for two hundred confounded worn out +chargers. They weren't even eatable! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS. We were two children in the hands of that consummate +soldier, Major: simply two innocent little children. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. What was he like? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE. Oh, Raina, what a silly question! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS. He was like a commercial traveller in uniform. +Bourgeois to his boots. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF (grinning). Sergius: tell Catherine that queer story +his friend told us about him—how he escaped after Slivnitza. +You remember?—about his being hid by two women. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (with bitter irony). Oh, yes, quite a romance. He was +serving in the very battery I so unprofessionally charged. Being +a thorough soldier, he ran away like the rest of them, with our +cavalry at his heels. To escape their attentions, he had the +good taste to take refuge in the chamber of some patriotic young +Bulgarian lady. The young lady was enchanted by his persuasive +commercial traveller's manners. She very modestly entertained +him for an hour or so and then called in her mother lest her +conduct should appear unmaidenly. The old lady was equally +fascinated; and the fugitive was sent on his way in the morning, +disguised in an old coat belonging to the master of the house, +who was away at the war. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (rising with marked stateliness). Your life in the camp +has made you coarse, Sergius. I did not think you would have +repeated such a story before me. (She turns away coldly.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE (also rising). She is right, Sergius. If such women +exist, we should be spared the knowledge of them. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF. Pooh! nonsense! what does it matter? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (ashamed). No, Petkoff: I was wrong. (To Raina, with +earnest humility.) I beg your pardon. I have behaved abominably. +Forgive me, Raina. (She bows reservedly.) And you, too, madam. +(Catherine bows graciously and sits down. He proceeds solemnly, +again addressing Raina.) The glimpses I have had of the seamy +side of life during the last few months have made me cynical; +but I should not have brought my cynicism here—least of all +into your presence, Raina. I—(Here, turning to the others, he +is evidently about to begin a long speech when the Major +interrupts him.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF. Stuff and nonsense, Sergius. That's quite enough fuss +about nothing: a soldier's daughter should be able to stand up +without flinching to a little strong conversation. (He rises.) +Come: it's time for us to get to business. We have to make up +our minds how those three regiments are to get back to +Phillipopolis:—there's no forage for them on the Sofia route. +(He goes towards the house.) Come along. (Sergius is about to +follow him when Catherine rises and intervenes.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE. Oh, Paul, can't you spare Sergius for a few moments? +Raina has hardly seen him yet. Perhaps I can help you to settle +about the regiments. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (protesting). My dear madam, impossible: you— +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE (stopping him playfully). You stay here, my dear +Sergius: there's no hurry. I have a word or two to say to Paul. +(Sergius instantly bows and steps back.) Now, dear (taking +Petkoff's arm), come and see the electric bell. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF. Oh, very well, very well. (They go into the house +together affectionately. Sergius, left alone with Raina, looks +anxiously at her, fearing that she may be still offended. She +smiles, and stretches out her arms to him.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="stage"> + (Exit R. into house, followed by Catherine.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (hastening to her, but refraining from touching her +without express permission). Am I forgiven? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (placing her hands on his shoulder as she looks up at him +with admiration and worship). My hero! My king. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS. My queen! (He kisses her on the forehead with holy +awe.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. How I have envied you, Sergius! You have been out in the +world, on the field of battle, able to prove yourself there +worthy of any woman in the world; whilst I have had to sit at +home inactive,—dreaming—useless—doing nothing that could +give me the right to call myself worthy of any man. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS. Dearest, all my deeds have been yours. You inspired me. +I have gone through the war like a knight in a tournament with +his lady looking on at him! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. And you have never been absent from my thoughts for a +moment. (Very solemnly.) Sergius: I think we two have found the +higher love. When I think of you, I feel that I could never do a +base deed, or think an ignoble thought. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS. My lady, and my saint! (Clasping her reverently.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (returning his embrace). My lord and my g— +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS. Sh—sh! Let me be the worshipper, dear. You little know +how unworthy even the best man is of a girl's pure passion! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. I trust you. I love you. You will never disappoint me, +Sergius. (Louka is heard singing within the house. They quickly +release each other.) Hush! I can't pretend to talk indifferently +before her: my heart is too full. (Louka comes from the house +with her tray. She goes to the table, and begins to clear it, +with her back turned to them.) I will go and get my hat; and +then we can go out until lunch time. Wouldn't you like that? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS. Be quick. If you are away five minutes, it will seem +five hours. (Raina runs to the top of the steps and turns there +to exchange a look with him and wave him a kiss with both hands. +He looks after her with emotion for a moment, then turns slowly +away, his face radiant with the exultation of the scene which +has just passed. The movement shifts his field of vision, into +the corner of which there now comes the tail of Louka's double +apron. His eye gleams at once. He takes a stealthy look at her, +and begins to twirl his moustache nervously, with his left hand +akimbo on his hip. Finally, striking the ground with his heels +in something of a cavalry swagger, he strolls over to the left +of the table, opposite her, and says) Louka: do you know what +the higher love is? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA (astonished). No, sir. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS. Very fatiguing thing to keep up for any length of time, +Louka. One feels the need of some relief after it. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA (innocently). Perhaps you would like some coffee, sir? +(She stretches her hand across the table for the coffee pot.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (taking her hand). Thank you, Louka. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA (pretending to pull). Oh, sir, you know I didn't mean +that. I'm surprised at you! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (coming clear of the table and drawing her with him). I +am surprised at myself, Louka. What would Sergius, the hero of +Slivnitza, say if he saw me now? What would Sergius, the apostle +of the higher love, say if he saw me now? What would the half +dozen Sergiuses who keep popping in and out of this handsome +figure of mine say if they caught us here? (Letting go her hand +and slipping his arm dexterously round her waist.) Do you +consider my figure handsome, Louka? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA. Let me go, sir. I shall be disgraced. (She struggles: he +holds her inexorably.) Oh, will you let go? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (looking straight into her eyes). No. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA. Then stand back where we can't be seen. Have you no +common sense? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS. Ah, that's reasonable. (He takes her into the +stableyard gateway, where they are hidden from the house.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA (complaining). I may have been seen from the windows: +Miss Raina is sure to be spying about after you. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (stung—letting her go). Take care, Louka. I may be +worthless enough to betray the higher love; but do not you +insult it. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA (demurely). Not for the world, sir, I'm sure. May I go on +with my work please, now? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (again putting his arm round her). You are a provoking +little witch, Louka. If you were in love with me, would you spy +out of windows on me? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA. Well, you see, sir, since you say you are half a dozen +different gentlemen all at once, I should have a great deal to +look after. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (charmed). Witty as well as pretty. (He tries to kiss +her.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA (avoiding him). No, I don't want your kisses. Gentlefolk +are all alike—you making love to me behind Miss Raina's back, +and she doing the same behind yours. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (recoiling a step). Louka! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA. It shews how little you really care! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (dropping his familiarity and speaking with freezing +politeness). If our conversation is to continue, Louka, you will +please remember that a gentleman does not discuss the conduct of +the lady he is engaged to with her maid. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA. It's so hard to know what a gentleman considers right. I +thought from your trying to kiss me that you had given up being +so particular. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (turning from her and striking his forehead as he comes +back into the garden from the gateway). Devil! devil! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA. Ha! ha! I expect one of the six of you is very like me, +sir, though I am only Miss Raina's maid. (She goes back to her +work at the table, taking no further notice of him.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (speaking to himself). Which of the six is the real +man?—that's the question that torments me. One of them is a +hero, another a buffoon, another a humbug, another perhaps a +bit of a blackguard. (He pauses and looks furtively at Louka, as +he adds with deep bitterness) And one, at least, is a +coward—jealous, like all cowards. (He goes to the table.) +Louka. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA. Yes? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS. Who is my rival? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA. You shall never get that out of me, for love or money. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS. Why? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA. Never mind why. Besides, you would tell that I told you; +and I should lose my place. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (holding out his right hand in affirmation). No; on the +honor of a—(He checks himself, and his hand drops nerveless as +he concludes, sardonically)—of a man capable of behaving as I +have been behaving for the last five minutes. Who is he? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA. I don't know. I never saw him. I only heard his voice +through the door of her room. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS. Damnation! How dare you? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA (retreating). Oh, I mean no harm: you've no right to take +up my words like that. The mistress knows all about it. And I +tell you that if that gentleman ever comes here again, Miss +Raina will marry him, whether he likes it or not. I know the +difference between the sort of manner you and she put on before +one another and the real manner. (Sergius shivers as if she had +stabbed him. Then, setting his face like iron, he strides grimly +to her, and grips her above the elbows with both bands.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS. Now listen you to me! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA (wincing). Not so tight: you're hurting me! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS. That doesn't matter. You have stained my honor by +making me a party to your eavesdropping. And you have betrayed +your mistress— +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA (writhing). Please— +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS. That shews that you are an abominable little clod of +common clay, with the soul of a servant. (He lets her go as if +she were an unclean thing, and turns away, dusting his hands of +her, to the bench by the wall, where he sits down with averted +head, meditating gloomily.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA (whimpering angrily with her hands up her sleeves, +feeling her bruised arms). You know how to hurt with your tongue +as well as with your hands. But I don't care, now I've found out +that whatever clay I'm made of, you're made of the same. As for +her, she's a liar; and her fine airs are a cheat; and I'm worth +six of her. (She shakes the pain off hardily; tosses her head; +and sets to work to put the things on the tray. He looks +doubtfully at her once or twice. She finishes packing the tray, +and laps the cloth over the edges, so as to carry all out +together. As she stoops to lift it, he rises.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS. Louka! (She stops and looks defiantly at him with the +tray in her hands.) A gentleman has no right to hurt a woman +under any circumstances. (With profound humility, uncovering his +head.) I beg your pardon. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA. That sort of apology may satisfy a lady. Of what use is +it to a servant? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (thus rudely crossed in his chivalry, throws it off +with a bitter laugh and says slightingly). Oh, you wish to be +paid for the hurt? (He puts on his shako, and takes some money +from his pocket.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA (her eyes filling with tears in spite of herself). No, I +want my hurt made well. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (sobered by her tone). How? +</P> + +<P CLASS="stage"> + (She rolls up her left sleeve; clasps her arm with + the thumb and fingers of her right hand; and looks + down at the bruise. Then she raises her head and + looks straight at him. Finally, with a superb + gesture she presents her arm to be kissed. Amazed, + he looks at her; at the arm; at her again; + hesitates; and then, with shuddering intensity, + exclaims) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS. Never! (and gets away as far as possible from her.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="stage"> + (Her arm drops. Without a word, and with unaffected + dignity, she takes her tray, and is approaching + the house when Raina returns wearing a hat and + jacket in the height of the Vienna fashion of the + previous year, 1885. Louka makes way proudly for + her, and then goes into the house.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. I'm ready! What's the matter? (Gaily.) Have you been +flirting with Louka? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (hastily). No, no. How can you think such a thing? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (ashamed of herself). Forgive me, dear: it was only a +jest. I am so happy to-day. +</P> + +<P CLASS="stage"> + (He goes quickly to her, and kisses her hand + remorsefully. Catherine comes out and calls + to them from the top of the steps.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE (coming down to them). I am sorry to disturb you, +children; but Paul is distracted over those three regiments. He +does not know how to get them to Phillipopolis; and he objects +to every suggestion of mine. You must go and help him, Sergius. +He is in the library. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (disappointed). But we are just going out for a walk. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS. I shall not be long. Wait for me just five minutes. (He +runs up the steps to the door.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (following him to the foot of the steps and looking up at +him with timid coquetry). I shall go round and wait in full view +of the library windows. Be sure you draw father's attention to +me. If you are a moment longer than five minutes, I shall go in +and fetch you, regiments or no regiments. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (laughing). Very well. (He goes in. Raina watches him +until he is out of her sight. Then, with a perceptible +relaxation of manner, she begins to pace up and down about the +garden in a brown study.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE. Imagine their meeting that Swiss and hearing the +whole story! The very first thing your father asked for was the +old coat we sent him off in. A nice mess you have got us into! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (gazing thoughtfully at the gravel as she walks). The +little beast! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE. Little beast! What little beast? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. To go and tell! Oh, if I had him here, I'd stuff him with +chocolate creams till he couldn't ever speak again! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE. Don't talk nonsense. Tell me the truth, Raina. How +long was he in your room before you came to me? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (whisking round and recommencing her march in the +opposite direction). Oh, I forget. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE. You cannot forget! Did he really climb up after the +soldiers were gone, or was he there when that officer searched +the room? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. No. Yes, I think he must have been there then. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE. You think! Oh, Raina, Raina! Will anything ever make +you straightforward? If Sergius finds out, it is all over +between you. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (with cool impertinence). Oh, I know Sergius is your pet. +I sometimes wish you could marry him instead of me. You would +just suit him. You would pet him, and spoil him, and mother him +to perfection. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE (opening her eyes very widely indeed). Well, upon my +word! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (capriciously—half to herself). I always feel a longing +to do or say something dreadful to him—to shock his +propriety—to scandalize the five senses out of him! (To +Catherine perversely.) I don't care whether he finds out about +the chocolate cream soldier or not. I half hope he may. (She +again turns flippantly away and strolls up the path to the +corner of the house.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE. And what should I be able to say to your father, +pray? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (over her shoulder, from the top of the two steps). Oh, +poor father! As if he could help himself! (She turns the corner +and passes out of sight.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE (looking after her, her fingers itching). Oh, if you +were only ten years younger! (Louka comes from the house with a +salver, which she carries hanging down by her side.) Well? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA. There's a gentleman just called, madam—a Servian +officer— +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE (flaming). A Servian! How dare he—(Checking herself +bitterly.) Oh, I forgot. We are at peace now. I suppose we shall +have them calling every day to pay their compliments. Well, if +he is an officer why don't you tell your master? He is in the +library with Major Saranoff. Why do you come to me? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA. But he asks for you, madam. And I don't think he knows +who you are: he said the lady of the house. He gave me this +little ticket for you. (She takes a card out of her bosom; puts +it on the salver and offers it to Catherine.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE (reading). "Captain Bluntschli!" That's a German +name. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA. Swiss, madam, I think. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE (with a bound that makes Louka jump back). Swiss! +What is he like? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA (timidly). He has a big carpet bag, madam. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE. Oh, Heavens, he's come to return the coat! Send him +away—say we're not at home—ask him to leave his address and +I'll write to him—Oh, stop: that will never do. Wait! (She +throws herself into a chair to think it out. Louka waits.) The +master and Major Saranoff are busy in the library, aren't they? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA. Yes, madam. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE (decisively). Bring the gentleman out here at once. +(Imperatively.) And be very polite to him. Don't delay. Here +(impatiently snatching the salver from her): leave that here; +and go straight back to him. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA. Yes, madam. (Going.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE. Louka! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA (stopping). Yes, madam. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE. Is the library door shut? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA. I think so, madam. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE. If not, shut it as you pass through. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA. Yes, madam. (Going.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE. Stop! (Louka stops.) He will have to go out that way +(indicating the gate of the stable yard). Tell Nicola to bring +his bag here after him. Don't forget. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA (surprised). His bag? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE. Yes, here, as soon as possible. (Vehemently.) Be +quick! (Louka runs into the house. Catherine snatches her apron +off and throws it behind a bush. She then takes up the salver +and uses it as a mirror, with the result that the handkerchief +tied round her head follows the apron. A touch to her hair and a +shake to her dressing gown makes her presentable.) Oh, +how—how—how can a man be such a fool! Such a moment to select! +(Louka appears at the door of the house, announcing "Captain +Bluntschli;" and standing aside at the top of the steps to let +him pass before she goes in again. He is the man of the +adventure in Raina's room. He is now clean, well brushed, +smartly uniformed, and out of trouble, but still unmistakably +the same man. The moment Louka's back is turned, Catherine +swoops on him with hurried, urgent, coaxing appeal.) Captain +Bluntschli, I am very glad to see you; but you must leave this +house at once. (He raises his eyebrows.) My husband has just +returned, with my future son-in-law; and they know nothing. If +they did, the consequences would be terrible. You are a +foreigner: you do not feel our national animosities as we do. We +still hate the Servians: the only effect of the peace on my +husband is to make him feel like a lion baulked of his prey. If +he discovered our secret, he would never forgive me; and my +daughter's life would hardly be safe. Will you, like the +chivalrous gentleman and soldier you are, leave at once before +he finds you here? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI (disappointed, but philosophical). At once, gracious +lady. I only came to thank you and return the coat you lent me. +If you will allow me to take it out of my bag and leave it with +your servant as I pass out, I need detain you no further. (He +turns to go into the house.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE (catching him by the sleeve). Oh, you must not think +of going back that way. (Coaxing him across to the stable +gates.) This is the shortest way out. Many thanks. So glad to +have been of service to you. Good-bye. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI. But my bag? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE. It will be sent on. You will leave me your address. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI. True. Allow me. (He takes out his card-case, and +stops to write his address, keeping Catherine in an agony of +impatience. As he hands her the card, Petkoff, hatless, rushes +from the house in a fluster of hospitality, followed by +Sergius.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF (as he hurries down the steps). My dear Captain +Bluntschli— +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE. Oh Heavens! (She sinks on the seat against the wall.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF (too preoccupied to notice her as he shakes +Bluntschli's hand heartily). Those stupid people of mine thought +I was out here, instead of in the—haw!—library. (He cannot +mention the library without betraying how proud he is of it.) I +saw you through the window. I was wondering why you didn't come +in. Saranoff is with me: you remember him, don't you? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (saluting humorously, and then offering his hand with +great charm of manner). Welcome, our friend the enemy! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF. No longer the enemy, happily. (Rather anxiously.) I +hope you've come as a friend, and not on business. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE. Oh, quite as a friend, Paul. I was just asking +Captain Bluntschli to stay to lunch; but he declares he must go +at once. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (sardonically). Impossible, Bluntschli. We want you +here badly. We have to send on three cavalry regiments to +Phillipopolis; and we don't in the least know how to do it. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI (suddenly attentive and business-like). +Phillipopolis! The forage is the trouble, eh? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF (eagerly). Yes, that's it. (To Sergius.) He sees the +whole thing at once. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI. I think I can shew you how to manage that. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS. Invaluable man! Come along! (Towering over Bluntschli, +he puts his hand on his shoulder and takes him to the steps, +Petkoff following. As Bluntschli puts his foot on the first +step, Raina comes out of the house.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (completely losing her presence of mind). Oh, the +chocolate cream soldier! +</P> + +<P CLASS="stage"> + (Bluntschli stands rigid. Sergius, amazed, looks + at Raina, then at Petkoff, who looks back at him + and then at his wife.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE (with commanding presence of mind). My dear Raina, +don't you see that we have a guest here—Captain Bluntschli, one +of our new Servian friends? +</P> + +<P CLASS="stage"> + (Raina bows; Bluntschli bows.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. How silly of me! (She comes down into the centre of the +group, between Bluntschli and Petkoff) I made a beautiful +ornament this morning for the ice pudding; and that stupid +Nicola has just put down a pile of plates on it and spoiled it. +(To Bluntschli, winningly.) I hope you didn't think that you +were the chocolate cream soldier, Captain Bluntschli. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI (laughing). I assure you I did. (Stealing a +whimsical glance at her.) Your explanation was a relief. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF (suspiciously, to Raina). And since when, pray, have +you taken to cooking? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE. Oh, whilst you were away. It is her latest fancy. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF (testily). And has Nicola taken to drinking? He used to +be careful enough. First he shews Captain Bluntschli out here +when he knew quite well I was in the—hum!—library; and then +he goes downstairs and breaks Raina's chocolate soldier. He +must—(At this moment Nicola appears at the top of the steps R., +with a carpet bag. He descends; places it respectfully before +Bluntschli; and waits for further orders. General amazement. +Nicola, unconscious of the effect he is producing, looks +perfectly satisfied with himself. When Petkoff recovers his +power of speech, he breaks out at him with) Are you mad, Nicola? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +NICOLA (taken aback). Sir? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF. What have you brought that for? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +NICOLA. My lady's orders, sir. Louka told me that— +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE (interrupting him). My orders! Why should I order you +to bring Captain Bluntschli's luggage out here? What are you +thinking of, Nicola? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +NICOLA (after a moment's bewilderment, picking up the bag as he +addresses Bluntschli with the very perfection of servile +discretion). I beg your pardon, sir, I am sure. (To Catherine.) +My fault, madam! I hope you'll overlook it! (He bows, and is +going to the steps with the bag, when Petkoff addresses him +angrily.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF. You'd better go and slam that bag, too, down on Miss +Raina's ice pudding! (This is too much for Nicola. The bag drops +from his hands on Petkoff's corns, eliciting a roar of anguish +from him.) Begone, you butter-fingered donkey. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +NICOLA (snatching up the bag, and escaping into the house). +Yes, sir. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE. Oh, never mind, Paul, don't be angry! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF (muttering). Scoundrel. He's got out of hand while I +was away. I'll teach him. (Recollecting his guest.) Oh, well, +never mind. Come, Bluntschli, lets have no more nonsense about +you having to go away. You know very well you're not going back +to Switzerland yet. Until you do go back you'll stay with us. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. Oh, do, Captain Bluntschli. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF (to Catherine). Now, Catherine, it's of you that he's +afraid. Press him and he'll stay. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE. Of course I shall be only too delighted if +(appealingly) Captain Bluntschli really wishes to stay. He knows +my wishes. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI (in his driest military manner). I am at madame's +orders. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (cordially). That settles it! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF (heartily). Of course! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. You see, you must stay! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI (smiling). Well, If I must, I must! +(Gesture of despair from Catherine.) +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +ACT III +</H3> + +<P CLASS="stage"> + In the library after lunch. It is not much of a + library, its literary equipment consisting of a + single fixed shelf stocked with old paper-covered + novels, broken backed, coffee stained, torn and + thumbed, and a couple of little hanging shelves + with a few gift books on them, the rest of the + wall space being occupied by trophies of war and + the chase. But it is a most comfortable + sitting-room. A row of three large windows in the + front of the house shew a mountain panorama, which + is just now seen in one of its softest aspects in + the mellowing afternoon light. In the left hand + corner, a square earthenware stove, a perfect + tower of colored pottery, rises nearly to the + ceiling and guarantees plenty of warmth. The + ottoman in the middle is a circular bank of + decorated cushions, and the window seats are well + upholstered divans. Little Turkish tables, one of + them with an elaborate hookah on it, and a screen + to match them, complete the handsome effect of the + furnishing. There is one object, however, which is + hopelessly out of keeping with its surroundings. + This is a small kitchen table, much the worse for + wear, fitted as a writing table with an old + canister full of pens, an eggcup filled with ink, + and a deplorable scrap of severely used pink + blotting paper. +</P> + +<P CLASS="stage"> + At the side of this table, which stands on the + right, Bluntschli is hard at work, with a couple + of maps before him, writing orders. At the head of + it sits Sergius, who is also supposed to be at + work, but who is actually gnawing the feather of a + pen, and contemplating Bluntschli's quick, sure, + businesslike progress with a mixture of envious + irritation at his own incapacity, and awestruck + wonder at an ability which seems to him almost + miraculous, though its prosaic character forbids + him to esteem it. The major is comfortably + established on the ottoman, with a newspaper in + his hand and the tube of the hookah within his + reach. Catherine sits at the stove, with her back + to them, embroidering. Raina, reclining on the + divan under the left hand window, is gazing in a + daydream out at the Balkan landscape, with a + neglected novel in her lap. +</P> + +<P CLASS="stage"> + The door is on the left. The button of the + electric bell is between the door and the + fireplace. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF (looking up from his paper to watch how they are +getting on at the table). Are you sure I can't help you in any +way, Bluntschli? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI (without interrupting his writing or looking up). +Quite sure, thank you. Saranoff and I will manage it. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (grimly). Yes: we'll manage it. He finds out what to +do; draws up the orders; and I sign 'em. Division of labour, +Major. (Bluntschli passes him a paper.) Another one? Thank you. +(He plants the papers squarely before him; sets his chair +carefully parallel to them; and signs with the air of a man +resolutely performing a difficult and dangerous feat.) This hand +is more accustomed to the sword than to the pen. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF. It's very good of you, Bluntschli, it is indeed, to let +yourself be put upon in this way. Now are you quite sure I can +do nothing? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE (in a low, warning tone). You can stop interrupting, +Paul. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF (starting and looking round at her). Eh? Oh! Quite +right, my love, quite right. (He takes his newspaper up, but +lets it drop again.) Ah, you haven't been campaigning, +Catherine: you don't know how pleasant it is for us to sit here, +after a good lunch, with nothing to do but enjoy ourselves. +There's only one thing I want to make me thoroughly comfortable. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE. What is that? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF. My old coat. I'm not at home in this one: I feel as if +I were on parade. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE. My dear Paul, how absurd you are about that old coat! +It must be hanging in the blue closet where you left it. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF. My dear Catherine, I tell you I've looked there. Am I +to believe my own eyes or not? (Catherine quietly rises and +presses the button of the electric bell by the fireplace.) What +are you shewing off that bell for? (She looks at him majestically, +and silently resumes her chair and her needlework.) My dear: if +you think the obstinacy of your sex can make a coat out of two +old dressing gowns of Raina's, your waterproof, and my +mackintosh, you're mistaken. That's exactly what the blue closet +contains at present. (Nicola presents himself.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE (unmoved by Petkoff's sally). Nicola: go to the blue +closet and bring your master's old coat here—the braided one he +usually wears in the house. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +NICOLA. Yes, madam. (Nicola goes out.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF. Catherine. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE. Yes, Paul? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF. I bet you any piece of jewellery you like to order from +Sofia against a week's housekeeping money, that the coat isn't +there. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE. Done, Paul. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF (excited by the prospect of a gamble). Come: here's an +opportunity for some sport. Who'll bet on it? Bluntschli: I'll +give you six to one. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI (imperturbably). It would be robbing you, Major. +Madame is sure to be right. (Without looking up, he passes +another batch of papers to Sergius.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (also excited). Bravo, Switzerland! Major: I bet my +best charger against an Arab mare for Raina that Nicola finds +the coat in the blue closet. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF (eagerly). Your best char— +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE (hastily interrupting him). Don't be foolish, Paul. +An Arabian mare will cost you 50,000 levas. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (suddenly coming out of her picturesque revery). Really, +mother, if you are going to take the jewellery, I don't see why +you should grudge me my Arab. +</P> + +<P CLASS="stage"> + (Nicola comes back with the coat and brings it + to Petkoff, who can hardly believe his eyes.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE. Where was it, Nicola? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +NICOLA. Hanging in the blue closet, madam. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF. Well, I am d— +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE (stopping him). Paul! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF. I could have sworn it wasn't there. Age is beginning to +tell on me. I'm getting hallucinations. (To Nicola.) Here: help +me to change. Excuse me, Bluntschli. (He begins changing coats, +Nicola acting as valet.) Remember: I didn't take that bet of +yours, Sergius. You'd better give Raina that Arab steed +yourself, since you've roused her expectations. Eh, Raina? (He +looks round at her; but she is again rapt in the landscape. With +a little gush of paternal affection and pride, he points her out +to them and says) She's dreaming, as usual. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS. Assuredly she shall not be the loser. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF. So much the better for her. I shan't come off so cheap, +I expect. (The change is now complete. Nicola goes out with the +discarded coat.) Ah, now I feel at home at last. (He sits down +and takes his newspaper with a grunt of relief.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI (to Sergius, handing a paper). That's the last +order. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF (jumping up). What! finished? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI. Finished. (Petkoff goes beside Sergius; looks +curiously over his left shoulder as he signs; and says with +childlike envy) Haven't you anything for me to sign? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI. Not necessary. His signature will do. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF. Ah, well, I think we've done a thundering good day's +work. (He goes away from the table.) Can I do anything more? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI. You had better both see the fellows that are to take +these. (To Sergius.) Pack them off at once; and shew them that +I've marked on the orders the time they should hand them in by. +Tell them that if they stop to drink or tell stories—if they're +five minutes late, they'll have the skin taken off their backs. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (rising indignantly). I'll say so. And if one of them +is man enough to spit in my face for insulting him, I'll buy his +discharge and give him a pension. (He strides out, his humanity +deeply outraged.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI (confidentially). Just see that he talks to them +properly, Major, will you? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF (officiously). Quite right, Bluntschli, quite right. +I'll see to it. (He goes to the door importantly, but hesitates +on the threshold.) By the bye, Catherine, you may as well come, +too. They'll be far more frightened of you than of me. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE (putting down her embroidery). I daresay I had +better. You will only splutter at them. (She goes out, Petkoff +holding the door for her and following her.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI. What a country! They make cannons out of cherry +trees; and the officers send for their wives to keep discipline! +(He begins to fold and docket the papers. Raina, who has risen +from the divan, strolls down the room with her hands clasped +behind her, and looks mischievously at him.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. You look ever so much nicer than when we last met. (He +looks up, surprised.) What have you done to yourself? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI. Washed; brushed; good night's sleep and breakfast. +That's all. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. Did you get back safely that morning? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI. Quite, thanks. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. Were they angry with you for running away from Sergius's +charge? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI. No, they were glad; because they'd all just run away +themselves. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (going to the table, and leaning over it towards him). It +must have made a lovely story for them—all that about me and my +room. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI. Capital story. But I only told it to one of them—a +particular friend. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. On whose discretion you could absolutely rely? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI. Absolutely. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. Hm! He told it all to my father and Sergius the day you +exchanged the prisoners. (She turns away and strolls carelessly +across to the other side of the room.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI (deeply concerned and half incredulous). No! you +don't mean that, do you? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (turning, with sudden earnestness). I do indeed. But they +don't know that it was in this house that you hid. If Sergius +knew, he would challenge you and kill you in a duel. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI. Bless me! then don't tell him. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (full of reproach for his levity). Can you realize what +it is to me to deceive him? I want to be quite perfect with +Sergius—no meanness, no smallness, no deceit. My relation to +him is the one really beautiful and noble part of my life. I +hope you can understand that. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI (sceptically). You mean that you wouldn't like him +to find out that the story about the ice pudding was +a—a—a—You know. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (wincing). Ah, don't talk of it in that flippant way. I +lied: I know it. But I did it to save your life. He would have +killed you. That was the second time I ever uttered a falsehood. +(Bluntschli rises quickly and looks doubtfully and somewhat +severely at her.) Do you remember the first time? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI. I! No. Was I present? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. Yes; and I told the officer who was searching for you +that you were not present. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI. True. I should have remembered it. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (greatly encouraged). Ah, it is natural that you should +forget it first. It cost you nothing: it cost me a lie!—a lie!! +(She sits down on the ottoman, looking straight before her with +her hands clasped on her knee. Bluntschli, quite touched, goes +to the ottoman with a particularly reassuring and considerate +air, and sits down beside her.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI. My dear young lady, don't let this worry you. +Remember: I'm a soldier. Now what are the two things that happen +to a soldier so often that he comes to think nothing of them? +One is hearing people tell lies (Raina recoils): the other is +getting his life saved in all sorts of ways by all sorts of +people. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (rising in indignant protest). And so he becomes a +creature incapable of faith and of gratitude. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI (making a wry face). Do you like gratitude? I don't. +If pity is akin to love, gratitude is akin to the other thing. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. Gratitude! (Turning on him.) If you are incapable of +gratitude you are incapable of any noble sentiment. Even animals +are grateful. Oh, I see now exactly what you think of me! You +were not surprised to hear me lie. To you it was something I +probably did every day—every hour. That is how men think of +women. (She walks up the room melodramatically.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI (dubiously). There's reason in everything. You said +you'd told only two lies in your whole life. Dear young lady: +isn't that rather a short allowance? I'm quite a straightforward +man myself; but it wouldn't last me a whole morning. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (staring haughtily at him). Do you know, sir, that you +are insulting me? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI. I can't help it. When you get into that noble +attitude and speak in that thrilling voice, I admire you; but I +find it impossible to believe a single word you say. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (superbly). Captain Bluntschli! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI (unmoved). Yes? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (coming a little towards him, as if she could not believe +her senses). Do you mean what you said just now? Do you know +what you said just now? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI. I do. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (gasping). I! I!!! (She points to herself incredulously, +meaning "I, Raina Petkoff, tell lies!" He meets her gaze +unflinchingly. She suddenly sits down beside him, and adds, with +a complete change of manner from the heroic to the familiar) How +did you find me out? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI (promptly). Instinct, dear young lady. Instinct, and +experience of the world. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (wonderingly). Do you know, you are the first man I ever +met who did not take me seriously? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI. You mean, don't you, that I am the first man that +has ever taken you quite seriously? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. Yes, I suppose I do mean that. (Cosily, quite at her ease +with him.) How strange it is to be talked to in such a way! You +know, I've always gone on like that—I mean the noble attitude +and the thrilling voice. I did it when I was a tiny child to my +nurse. She believed in it. I do it before my parents. They +believe in it. I do it before Sergius. He believes in it. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI. Yes: he's a little in that line himself, isn't he? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (startled). Do you think so? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI. You know him better than I do. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. I wonder—I wonder is he? If I thought that—! +(Discouraged.) Ah, well, what does it matter? I suppose, now +that you've found me out, you despise me. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI (warmly, rising). No, my dear young lady, no, no, no +a thousand times. It's part of your youth—part of your charm. +I'm like all the rest of them—the nurse—your +parents—Sergius: I'm your infatuated admirer. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (pleased). Really? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI (slapping his breast smartly with his hand, German +fashion). Hand aufs Herz! Really and truly. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (very happy). But what did you think of me for giving you +my portrait? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI (astonished). Your portrait! You never gave me your +portrait. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (quickly). Do you mean to say you never got it? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI. No. (He sits down beside her, with renewed interest, +and says, with some complacency.) When did you send it to me? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (indignantly). I did not send it to you. (She turns her +head away, and adds, reluctantly.) It was in the pocket of that +coat. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI (pursing his lips and rounding his eyes). Oh-o-oh! I +never found it. It must be there still. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (springing up). There still!—for my father to find the +first time he puts his hand in his pocket! Oh, how could you be +so stupid? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI (rising also). It doesn't matter: it's only a +photograph: how can he tell who it was intended for? Tell him he +put it there himself. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (impatiently). Yes, that is so clever—so clever! What +shall I do? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI. Ah, I see. You wrote something on it. That was rash! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (annoyed almost to tears). Oh, to have done such a thing +for you, who care no more—except to laugh at me—oh! Are you +sure nobody has touched it? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI. Well, I can't be quite sure. You see I couldn't +carry it about with me all the time: one can't take much luggage +on active service. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. What did you do with it? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI. When I got through to Peerot I had to put it in safe +keeping somehow. I thought of the railway cloak room; but that's +the surest place to get looted in modern warfare. So I pawned +it. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. Pawned it!!! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI. I know it doesn't sound nice; but it was much the +safest plan. I redeemed it the day before yesterday. Heaven only +knows whether the pawnbroker cleared out the pockets or not. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (furious—throwing the words right into his face). You +have a low, shopkeeping mind. You think of things that would +never come into a gentleman's head. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI (phlegmatically). That's the Swiss national +character, dear lady. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. Oh, I wish I had never met you. (She flounces away and +sits at the window fuming.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="stage"> + (Louka comes in with a heap of letters and + telegrams on her salver, and crosses, with her + bold, free gait, to the table. Her left sleeve is + looped up to the shoulder with a brooch, shewing + her naked arm, with a broad gilt bracelet covering + the bruise.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA (to Bluntschli). For you. (She empties the salver +recklessly on the table.) The messenger is waiting. (She is +determined not to be civil to a Servian, even if she must bring +him his letters.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI (to Raina). Will you excuse me: the last postal +delivery that reached me was three weeks ago. These are the +subsequent accumulations. Four telegrams—a week old. (He opens +one.) Oho! Bad news! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (rising and advancing a little remorsefully). Bad news? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI. My father's dead. (He looks at the telegram with his +lips pursed, musing on the unexpected change in his +arrangements.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. Oh, how very sad! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI. Yes: I shall have to start for home in an hour. He +has left a lot of big hotels behind him to be looked after. +(Takes up a heavy letter in a long blue envelope.) Here's a +whacking letter from the family solicitor. (He pulls out the +enclosures and glances over them.) Great Heavens! Seventy! Two +hundred! (In a crescendo of dismay.) Four hundred! Four +thousand!! Nine thousand six hundred!!! What on earth shall I do +with them all? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (timidly). Nine thousand hotels? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI. Hotels! Nonsense. If you only knew!—oh, it's too +ridiculous! Excuse me: I must give my fellow orders about +starting. (He leaves the room hastily, with the documents in his +hand.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA (tauntingly). He has not much heart, that Swiss, though +he is so fond of the Servians. He has not a word of grief for +his poor father. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (bitterly). Grief!—a man who has been doing nothing but +killing people for years! What does he care? What does any +soldier care? (She goes to the door, evidently restraining her +tears with difficulty.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA. Major Saranoff has been fighting, too; and he has plenty +of heart left. (Raina, at the door, looks haughtily at her and +goes out.) Aha! I thought you wouldn't get much feeling out of +your soldier. (She is following Raina when Nicola enters with an +armful of logs for the fire.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +NICOLA (grinning amorously at her). I've been trying all the +afternoon to get a minute alone with you, my girl. (His +countenance changes as he notices her arm.) Why, what fashion is +that of wearing your sleeve, child? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA (proudly). My own fashion. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +NICOLA. Indeed! If the mistress catches you, she'll talk to you. +(He throws the logs down on the ottoman, and sits comfortably +beside them.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA. Is that any reason why you should take it on yourself to +talk to me? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +NICOLA. Come: don't be so contrary with me. I've some good news +for you. (He takes out some paper money. Louka, with an eager +gleam in her eyes, comes close to look at it.) See, a twenty +leva bill! Sergius gave me that out of pure swagger. A fool and +his money are soon parted. There's ten levas more. The Swiss +gave me that for backing up the mistress's and Raina's lies +about him. He's no fool, he isn't. You should have heard old +Catherine downstairs as polite as you please to me, telling me +not to mind the Major being a little impatient; for they knew +what a good servant I was—after making a fool and a liar of me +before them all! The twenty will go to our savings; and you +shall have the ten to spend if you'll only talk to me so as to +remind me I'm a human being. I get tired of being a servant +occasionally. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA (scornfully). Yes: sell your manhood for thirty levas, +and buy me for ten! Keep your money. You were born to be a +servant. I was not. When you set up your shop you will only be +everybody's servant instead of somebody's servant. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +NICOLA (picking up his logs, and going to the stove). Ah, wait +till you see. We shall have our evenings to ourselves; and I +shall be master in my own house, I promise you. (He throws the +logs down and kneels at the stove.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA. You shall never be master in mine. (She sits down on +Sergius's chair.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +NICOLA (turning, still on his knees, and squatting down rather +forlornly, on his calves, daunted by her implacable disdain). +You have a great ambition in you, Louka. Remember: if any luck +comes to you, it was I that made a woman of you. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA. You! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +NICOLA (with dogged self-assertion). Yes, me. Who was it made +you give up wearing a couple of pounds of false black hair on +your head and reddening your lips and cheeks like any other +Bulgarian girl? I did. Who taught you to trim your nails, and +keep your hands clean, and be dainty about yourself, like a fine +Russian lady? Me! do you hear that? me! (She tosses her head +defiantly; and he rises, ill-humoredly, adding more coolly) I've +often thought that if Raina were out of the way, and you just a +little less of a fool and Sergius just a little more of one, you +might come to be one of my grandest customers, instead of only +being my wife and costing me money. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA. I believe you would rather be my servant than my husband. +You would make more out of me. Oh, I know that soul of yours. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +NICOLA (going up close to her for greater emphasis). Never you +mind my soul; but just listen to my advice. If you want to be a +lady, your present behaviour to me won't do at all, unless when +we're alone. It's too sharp and impudent; and impudence is a +sort of familiarity: it shews affection for me. And don't you +try being high and mighty with me either. You're like all +country girls: you think it's genteel to treat a servant the way +I treat a stable-boy. That's only your ignorance; and don't you +forget it. And don't be so ready to defy everybody. Act as if +you expected to have your own way, not as if you expected to be +ordered about. The way to get on as a lady is the same as the +way to get on as a servant: you've got to know your place; +that's the secret of it. And you may depend on me to know my +place if you get promoted. Think over it, my girl. I'll stand by +you: one servant should always stand by another. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA (rising impatiently). Oh, I must behave in my own way. +You take all the courage out of me with your cold-blooded +wisdom. Go and put those logs on the fire: that's the sort of +thing you understand. (Before Nicola can retort, Sergius comes +in. He checks himself a moment on seeing Louka; then goes to the +stove.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (to Nicola). I am not in the way of your work, I hope. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +NICOLA (in a smooth, elderly manner). Oh, no, sir, thank you +kindly. I was only speaking to this foolish girl about her habit +of running up here to the library whenever she gets a chance, to +look at the books. That's the worst of her education, sir: it +gives her habits above her station. (To Louka.) Make that table +tidy, Louka, for the Major. (He goes out sedately.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="stage"> + (Louka, without looking at Sergius, begins to + arrange the papers on the table. He crosses slowly + to her, and studies the arrangement of her sleeve + reflectively.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS. Let me see: is there a mark there? (He turns up the +bracelet and sees the bruise made by his grasp. She stands +motionless, not looking at him: fascinated, but on her guard.) +Ffff! Does it hurt? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA. Yes. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS. Shall I cure it? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA (instantly withdrawing herself proudly, but still not +looking at him). No. You cannot cure it now. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (masterfully). Quite sure? (He makes a movement as if +to take her in his arms.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA. Don't trifle with me, please. An officer should not +trifle with a servant. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (touching the arm with a merciless stroke of his +forefinger). That was no trifle, Louka. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA. No. (Looking at him for the first time.) Are you sorry? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (with measured emphasis, folding his arms). I am never +sorry. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA (wistfully). I wish I could believe a man could be so +unlike a woman as that. I wonder are you really a brave man? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (unaffectedly, relaxing his attitude). Yes: I am a +brave man. My heart jumped like a woman's at the first shot; but +in the charge I found that I was brave. Yes: that at least is +real about me. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA. Did you find in the charge that the men whose fathers are +poor like mine were any less brave than the men who are rich +like you? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (with bitter levity.) Not a bit. They all slashed and +cursed and yelled like heroes. Psha! the courage to rage and +kill is cheap. I have an English bull terrier who has as much of +that sort of courage as the whole Bulgarian nation, and the +whole Russian nation at its back. But he lets my groom thrash +him, all the same. That's your soldier all over! No, Louka, your +poor men can cut throats; but they are afraid of their officers; +they put up with insults and blows; they stand by and see one +another punished like children—-aye, and help to do it when +they are ordered. And the officers!—-well (with a short, bitter +laugh) I am an officer. Oh, (fervently) give me the man who will +defy to the death any power on earth or in heaven that sets +itself up against his own will and conscience: he alone is the +brave man. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA. How easy it is to talk! Men never seem to me to grow up: +they all have schoolboy's ideas. You don't know what true +courage is. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (ironically). Indeed! I am willing to be instructed. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA. Look at me! how much am I allowed to have my own will? I +have to get your room ready for you—to sweep and dust, to fetch +and carry. How could that degrade me if it did not degrade you +to have it done for you? But (with subdued passion) if I were +Empress of Russia, above everyone in the world, then—ah, then, +though according to you I could shew no courage at all; you +should see, you should see. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS. What would you do, most noble Empress? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA. I would marry the man I loved, which no other queen in +Europe has the courage to do. If I loved you, though you would +be as far beneath me as I am beneath you, I would dare to be the +equal of my inferior. Would you dare as much if you loved me? +No: if you felt the beginnings of love for me you would not let +it grow. You dare not: you would marry a rich man's daughter +because you would be afraid of what other people would say of +you. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (carried away). You lie: it is not so, by all the +stars! If I loved you, and I were the Czar himself, I would set +you on the throne by my side. You know that I love another +woman, a woman as high above you as heaven is above earth. And +you are jealous of her. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA. I have no reason to be. She will never marry you now. The +man I told you of has come back. She will marry the Swiss. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (recoiling). The Swiss! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA. A man worth ten of you. Then you can come to me; and I +will refuse you. You are not good enough for me. (She turns to +the door.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (springing after her and catching her fiercely in his +arms). I will kill the Swiss; and afterwards I will do as I +please with you. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA (in his arms, passive and steadfast). The Swiss will kill +you, perhaps. He has beaten you in love. He may beat you in war. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (tormentedly). Do you think I believe that she—she! +whose worst thoughts are higher than your best ones, is capable +of trifling with another man behind my back? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA. Do you think she would believe the Swiss if he told her +now that I am in your arms? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (releasing her in despair). Damnation! Oh, damnation! +Mockery, mockery everywhere: everything I think is mocked by +everything I do. (He strikes himself frantically on the breast.) +Coward, liar, fool! Shall I kill myself like a man, or live and +pretend to laugh at myself? (She again turns to go.) Louka! (She +stops near the door.) Remember: you belong to me. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA (quietly). What does that mean—an insult? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (commandingly). It means that you love me, and that I +have had you here in my arms, and will perhaps have you there +again. Whether that is an insult I neither know nor care: take +it as you please. But (vehemently) I will not be a coward and a +trifler. If I choose to love you, I dare marry you, in spite of +all Bulgaria. If these hands ever touch you again, they shall +touch my affianced bride. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA. We shall see whether you dare keep your word. But take +care. I will not wait long. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (again folding his arms and standing motionless in the +middle of the room). Yes, we shall see. And you shall wait my +pleasure. +</P> + +<P CLASS="stage"> + (Bluntschli, much preoccupied, with his papers + still in his hand, enters, leaving the door open + for Louka to go out. He goes across to the table, + glancing at her as he passes. Sergius, without + altering his resolute attitude, watches him + steadily. Louka goes out, leaving the door open.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI (absently, sitting at the table as before, and +putting down his papers). That's a remarkable looking young +woman. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (gravely, without moving). Captain Bluntschli. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI. Eh? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS. You have deceived me. You are my rival. I brook no +rivals. At six o'clock I shall be in the drilling-ground on the +Klissoura road, alone, on horseback, with my sabre. Do you +understand? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI (staring, but sitting quite at his ease). Oh, thank +you: that's a cavalry man's proposal. I'm in the artillery; and +I have the choice of weapons. If I go, I shall take a machine +gun. And there shall be no mistake about the cartridges this +time. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (flushing, but with deadly coldness). Take care, sir. +It is not our custom in Bulgaria to allow invitations of that +kind to be trifled with. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI (warmly). Pooh! don't talk to me about Bulgaria. You +don't know what fighting is. But have it your own way. Bring +your sabre along. I'll meet you. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (fiercely delighted to find his opponent a man of +spirit). Well said, Switzer. Shall I lend you my best horse? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI. No: damn your horse!—-thank you all the same, my +dear fellow. (Raina comes in, and hears the next sentence.) I +shall fight you on foot. Horseback's too dangerous: I don't want +to kill you if I can help it. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (hurrying forward anxiously). I have heard what Captain +Bluntschli said, Sergius. You are going to fight. Why? (Sergius +turns away in silence, and goes to the stove, where he stands +watching her as she continues, to Bluntschli) What about? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI. I don't know: he hasn't told me. Better not +interfere, dear young lady. No harm will be done: I've often +acted as sword instructor. He won't be able to touch me; and +I'll not hurt him. It will save explanations. In the morning I +shall be off home; and you'll never see me or hear of me again. +You and he will then make it up and live happily ever after. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (turning away deeply hurt, almost with a sob in her +voice). I never said I wanted to see you again. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (striding forward). Ha! That is a confession. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (haughtily). What do you mean? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS. You love that man! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (scandalized). Sergius! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS. You allow him to make love to you behind my back, just +as you accept me as your affianced husband behind his. +Bluntschli: you knew our relations; and you deceived me. It is +for that that I call you to account, not for having received +favours that I never enjoyed. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI (jumping up indignantly). Stuff! Rubbish! I have +received no favours. Why, the young lady doesn't even know +whether I'm married or not. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (forgetting herself). Oh! (Collapsing on the ottoman.) +Are you? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS. You see the young lady's concern, Captain Bluntschli. +Denial is useless. You have enjoyed the privilege of being +received in her own room, late at night— +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI (interrupting him pepperily). Yes; you blockhead! +She received me with a pistol at her head. Your cavalry were at +my heels. I'd have blown out her brains if she'd uttered a cry. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (taken aback). Bluntschli! Raina: is this true? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (rising in wrathful majesty). Oh, how dare you, how dare +you? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI. Apologize, man, apologize! (He resumes his seat at +the table.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (with the old measured emphasis, folding his arms). I +never apologize. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (passionately). This is the doing of that friend of +yours, Captain Bluntschli. It is he who is spreading this +horrible story about me. (She walks about excitedly.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI. No: he's dead—burnt alive. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (stopping, shocked). Burnt alive! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI. Shot in the hip in a wood yard. Couldn't drag +himself out. Your fellows' shells set the timber on fire and +burnt him, with half a dozen other poor devils in the same +predicament. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. How horrible! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS. And how ridiculous! Oh, war! war! the dream of patriots +and heroes! A fraud, Bluntschli, a hollow sham, like love. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (outraged). Like love! You say that before me. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI. Come, Saranoff: that matter is explained. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS. A hollow sham, I say. Would you have come back here if +nothing had passed between you, except at the muzzle of your +pistol? Raina is mistaken about our friend who was burnt. He was +not my informant. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. Who then? (Suddenly guessing the truth.) Ah, Louka! my +maid, my servant! You were with her this morning all that time +after—-after—-Oh, what sort of god is this I have been +worshipping! (He meets her gaze with sardonic enjoyment of her +disenchantment. Angered all the more, she goes closer to him, +and says, in a lower, intenser tone) Do you know that I looked +out of the window as I went upstairs, to have another sight of +my hero; and I saw something that I did not understand then. I +know now that you were making love to her. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (with grim humor). You saw that? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. Only too well. (She turns away, and throws herself on the +divan under the centre window, quite overcome.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (cynically). Raina: our romance is shattered. Life's a +farce. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI (to Raina, goodhumoredly). You see: he's found +himself out now. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS. Bluntschli: I have allowed you to call me a blockhead. +You may now call me a coward as well. I refuse to fight you. Do +you know why? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI. No; but it doesn't matter. I didn't ask the reason +when you cried on; and I don't ask the reason now that you cry +off. I'm a professional soldier. I fight when I have to, and am +very glad to get out of it when I haven't to. You're only an +amateur: you think fighting's an amusement. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS. You shall hear the reason all the same, my +professional. The reason is that it takes two men—real men—men +of heart, blood and honor—to make a genuine combat. I could no +more fight with you than I could make love to an ugly woman. +You've no magnetism: you're not a man, you're a machine. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI (apologetically). Quite true, quite true. I always +was that sort of chap. I'm very sorry. But now that you've found +that life isn't a farce, but something quite sensible and +serious, what further obstacle is there to your happiness? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (riling). You are very solicitous about my happiness and +his. Do you forget his new love—Louka? It is not you that he +must fight now, but his rival, Nicola. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS. Rival!! (Striking his forehead.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. Did you not know that they are engaged? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS. Nicola! Are fresh abysses opening! Nicola!! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (sarcastically). A shocking sacrifice, isn't it? Such +beauty, such intellect, such modesty, wasted on a middle-aged +servant man! Really, Sergius, you cannot stand by and allow such +a thing. It would be unworthy of your chivalry. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (losing all self-control). Viper! Viper! (He rushes to +and fro, raging.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI. Look here, Saranoff; you're getting the worst of +this. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (getting angrier). Do you realize what he has done, +Captain Bluntschli? He has set this girl as a spy on us; and her +reward is that he makes love to her. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS. False! Monstrous! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. Monstrous! (Confronting him.) Do you deny that she told +you about Captain Bluntschli being in my room? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS. No; but— +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (interrupting). Do you deny that you were making love to +her when she told you? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS. No; but I tell you— +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (cutting him short contemptuously). It is unnecessary to +tell us anything more. That is quite enough for us. (She turns +her back on him and sweeps majestically back to the window.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI (quietly, as Sergius, in an agony of mortification, +sinks on the ottoman, clutching his averted head between his +fists). I told you you were getting the worst of it, Saranoff. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS. Tiger cat! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (running excitedly to Bluntschli). You hear this man +calling me names, Captain Bluntschli? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI. What else can he do, dear lady? He must defend +himself somehow. Come (very persuasively), don't quarrel. What +good does it do? (Raina, with a gasp, sits down on the ottoman, +and after a vain effort to look vexedly at Bluntschli, she falls +a victim to her sense of humor, and is attacked with a +disposition to laugh.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS. Engaged to Nicola! (He rises.) Ha! ha! (Going to the +stove and standing with his back to it.) Ah, well, Bluntschli, +you are right to take this huge imposture of a world coolly. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (to Bluntschli with an intuitive guess at his state of +mind). I daresay you think us a couple of grown up babies, don't +you? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (grinning a little). He does, he does. Swiss +civilization nursetending Bulgarian barbarism, eh? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI (blushing). Not at all, I assure you. I'm only very +glad to get you two quieted. There now, let's be pleasant and +talk it over in a friendly way. Where is this other young lady? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. Listening at the door, probably. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (shivering as if a bullet had struck him, and speaking +with quiet but deep indignation). I will prove that that, at +least, is a calumny. (He goes with dignity to the door and opens +it. A yell of fury bursts from him as he looks out. He darts +into the passage, and returns dragging in Louka, whom he flings +against the table, R., as he cries) Judge her, Bluntschli—you, +the moderate, cautious man: judge the eavesdropper. +</P> + +<P CLASS="stage"> + (Louka stands her ground, proud and silent.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI (shaking his head). I mustn't judge her. I once +listened myself outside a tent when there was a mutiny brewing. +It's all a question of the degree of provocation. My life was at +stake. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA. My love was at stake. (Sergius flinches, ashamed of her +in spite of himself.) I am not ashamed. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (contemptuously). Your love! Your curiosity, you mean. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA (facing her and retorting her contempt with interest). My +love, stronger than anything you can feel, even for your +chocolate cream soldier. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (with quick suspicion—to Louka). What does that mean? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA (fiercely). It means— +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (interrupting her slightingly). Oh, I remember, the ice +pudding. A paltry taunt, girl. +</P> + +<P CLASS="stage"> + (Major Petkoff enters, in his shirtsleeves.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF. Excuse my shirtsleeves, gentlemen. Raina: somebody has +been wearing that coat of mine: I'll swear it—somebody with +bigger shoulders than mine. It's all burst open at the back. +Your mother is mending it. I wish she'd make haste. I shall +catch cold. (He looks more attentively at them.) Is anything the +matter? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. No. (She sits down at the stove with a tranquil air.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS. Oh, no! (He sits down at the end of the table, as at +first.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI (who is already seated). Nothing, nothing. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF (sitting down on the ottoman in his old place). That's +all right. (He notices Louka.) Anything the matter, Louka? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA. No, sir. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF (genially). That's all right. (He sneezes.) Go and ask +your mistress for my coat, like a good girl, will you? (She +turns to obey; but Nicola enters with the coat; and she makes a +pretence of having business in the room by taking the little +table with the hookah away to the wall near the windows.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (rising quickly, as she sees the coat on Nicola's arm). +Here it is, papa. Give it to me, Nicola; and do you put some +more wood on the fire. (She takes the coat, and brings it to the +Major, who stands up to put it on. Nicola attends to the fire.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF (to Raina, teasing her affectionately). Aha! Going to +be very good to poor old papa just for one day after his return +from the wars, eh? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (with solemn reproach). Ah, how can you say that to me, +father? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF. Well, well, only a joke, little one. Come, give me a +kiss. (She kisses him.) Now give me the coat. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. Now, I am going to put it on for you. Turn your back. (He +turns his back and feels behind him with his arms for the +sleeves. She dexterously takes the photograph from the pocket +and throws it on the table before Bluntschli, who covers it with +a sheet of paper under the very nose of Sergius, who looks on +amazed, with his suspicions roused in the highest degree. She +then helps Petkoff on with his coat.) There, dear! Now are you +comfortable? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF. Quite, little love. Thanks. (He sits down; and Raina +returns to her seat near the stove.) Oh, by the bye, I've found +something funny. What's the meaning of this? (He put his hand +into the picked pocket.) Eh? Hallo! (He tries the other pocket.) +Well, I could have sworn—(Much puzzled, he tries the breast +pocket.) I wonder—(Tries the original pocket.) Where can +it—(A light flashes on him; he rises, exclaiming) Your mother's +taken it. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (very red). Taken what? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF. Your photograph, with the inscription: "Raina, to her +Chocolate Cream Soldier—a souvenir." Now you know there's +something more in this than meets the eye; and I'm going to find +it out. (Shouting) Nicola! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +NICOLA (dropping a log, and turning). Sir! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF. Did you spoil any pastry of Miss Raina's this morning? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +NICOLA. You heard Miss Raina say that I did, sir. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF. I know that, you idiot. Was it true? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +NICOLA. I am sure Miss Raina is incapable of saying anything +that is not true, sir. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF. Are you? Then I'm not. (Turning to the others.) Come: +do you think I don't see it all? (Goes to Sergius, and slaps him +on the shoulder.) Sergius: you're the chocolate cream soldier, +aren't you? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (starting up). I! a chocolate cream soldier! Certainly +not. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF. Not! (He looks at them. They are all very serious and +very conscious.) Do you mean to tell me that Raina sends +photographic souvenirs to other men? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (enigmatically). The world is not such an innocent +place as we used to think, Petkoff. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI (rising). It's all right, Major. I'm the chocolate +cream soldier. (Petkoff and Sergius are equally astonished.) The +gracious young lady saved my life by giving me chocolate creams +when I was starving—shall I ever forget their flavour! My late +friend Stolz told you the story at Peerot. I was the fugitive. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF. You! (He gasps.) Sergius: do you remember how those two +women went on this morning when we mentioned it? (Sergius smiles +cynically. Petkoff confronts Raina severely.) You're a nice young +woman, aren't you? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (bitterly). Major Saranoff has changed his mind. And when +I wrote that on the photograph, I did not know that Captain +Bluntschli was married. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI (much startled protesting vehemently). I'm not +married. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (with deep reproach). You said you were. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI. I did not. I positively did not. I never was married +in my life. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF (exasperated). Raina: will you kindly inform me, if I +am not asking too much, which gentleman you are engaged to? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. To neither of them. This young lady (introducing Louka, +who faces them all proudly) is the object of Major Saranoff's +affections at present. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF. Louka! Are you mad, Sergius? Why, this girl's engaged +to Nicola. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +NICOLA (coming forward ). I beg your pardon, sir. There is a +mistake. Louka is not engaged to me. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF. Not engaged to you, you scoundrel! Why, you had +twenty-five levas from me on the day of your betrothal; and she +had that gilt bracelet from Miss Raina. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +NICOLA (with cool unction). We gave it out so, sir. But it was +only to give Louka protection. She had a soul above her station; +and I have been no more than her confidential servant. I intend, +as you know, sir, to set up a shop later on in Sofia; and I look +forward to her custom and recommendation should she marry into +the nobility. (He goes out with impressive discretion, leaving +them all staring after him.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF (breaking the silence). Well, I am—-hm! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS. This is either the finest heroism or the most crawling +baseness. Which is it, Bluntschli? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI. Never mind whether it's heroism or baseness. +Nicola's the ablest man I've met in Bulgaria. I'll make him +manager of a hotel if he can speak French and German. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA (suddenly breaking out at Sergius). I have been insulted +by everyone here. You set them the example. You owe me an +apology. (Sergius immediately, like a repeating clock of which +the spring has been touched, begins to fold his arms.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI (before he can speak). It's no use. He never +apologizes. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA. Not to you, his equal and his enemy. To me, his poor +servant, he will not refuse to apologize. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (approvingly). You are right. (He bends his knee in his +grandest manner.) Forgive me! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA. I forgive you. (She timidly gives him her hand, which he +kisses.) That touch makes me your affianced wife. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (springing up). Ah, I forgot that! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA (coldly). You can withdraw if you like. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS. Withdraw! Never! You belong to me! (He puts his arm +about her and draws her to him.) (Catherine comes in and finds +Louka in Sergius's arms, and all the rest gazing at them in +bewildered astonishment.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE. What does this mean? (Sergius releases Louka.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF. Well, my dear, it appears that Sergius is going to +marry Louka instead of Raina. (She is about to break out +indignantly at him: he stops her by exclaiming testily.) Don't +blame me: I've nothing to do with it. (He retreats to the +stove.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE. Marry Louka! Sergius: you are bound by your word to +us! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (folding his arms). Nothing binds me. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI (much pleased by this piece of common sense). +Saranoff: your hand. My congratulations. These heroics of yours +have their practical side after all. (To Louka.) Gracious young +lady: the best wishes of a good Republican! (He kisses her hand, +to Raina's great disgust.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE (threateningly). Louka: you have been telling +stories. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA. I have done Raina no harm. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE (haughtily). Raina! (Raina is equally indignant at +the liberty.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA. I have a right to call her Raina: she calls me Louka. I +told Major Saranoff she would never marry him if the Swiss +gentleman came back. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI (surprised). Hallo! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +LOUKA (turning to Raina). I thought you were fonder of him than +of Sergius. You know best whether I was right. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI. What nonsense! I assure you, my dear Major, my dear +Madame, the gracious young lady simply saved my life, nothing +else. She never cared two straws for me. Why, bless my heart and +soul, look at the young lady and look at me. She, rich, young, +beautiful, with her imagination full of fairy princes and noble +natures and cavalry charges and goodness knows what! And I, a +common-place Swiss soldier who hardly knows what a decent life +is after fifteen years of barracks and battles—a vagabond—a +man who has spoiled all his chances in life through an incurably +romantic disposition—a man— +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (starting as if a needle had pricked him and +interrupting Bluntschli in incredulous amazement). Excuse me, +Bluntschli: what did you say had spoiled your chances in life? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI (promptly). An incurably romantic disposition. I ran +away from home twice when I was a boy. I went into the army +instead of into my father's business. I climbed the balcony of +this house when a man of sense would have dived into the nearest +cellar. I came sneaking back here to have another look at the +young lady when any other man of my age would have sent the coat +back— +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF. My coat! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI.—Yes: that's the coat I mean—would have sent it +back and gone quietly home. Do you suppose I am the sort of +fellow a young girl falls in love with? Why, look at our ages! +I'm thirty-four: I don't suppose the young lady is much over +seventeen. (This estimate produces a marked sensation, all the +rest turning and staring at one another. He proceeds +innocently.) All that adventure which was life or death to me, +was only a schoolgirl's game to her—chocolate creams and hide +and seek. Here's the proof! (He takes the photograph from the +table.) Now, I ask you, would a woman who took the affair +seriously have sent me this and written on it: "Raina, to her +chocolate cream soldier—a souvenir"? (He exhibits the +photograph triumphantly, as if it settled the matter beyond all +possibility of refutation.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF. That's what I was looking for. How the deuce did it get +there? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI (to Raina complacently). I have put everything +right, I hope, gracious young lady! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (in uncontrollable vexation). I quite agree with your +account of yourself. You are a romantic idiot. (Bluntschli is +unspeakably taken aback.) Next time I hope you will know the +difference between a schoolgirl of seventeen and a woman of +twenty-three. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI (stupefied). Twenty-three! (She snaps the photograph +contemptuously from his hand; tears it across; and throws the +pieces at his feet.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS (with grim enjoyment of Bluntschli's discomfiture). +Bluntschli: my one last belief is gone. Your sagacity is a +fraud, like all the other things. You have less sense than even +I have. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI (overwhelmed). Twenty-three! Twenty-three!! (He +considers.) Hm! (Swiftly making up his mind.) In that case, +Major Petkoff, I beg to propose formally to become a suitor for +your daughter's hand, in place of Major Saranoff retired. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. You dare! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI. If you were twenty-three when you said those things +to me this afternoon, I shall take them seriously. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE (loftily polite). I doubt, sir, whether you quite +realize either my daughter's position or that of Major Sergius +Saranoff, whose place you propose to take. The Petkoffs and the +Saranoffs are known as the richest and most important families +in the country. Our position is almost historical: we can go +back for nearly twenty years. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF. Oh, never mind that, Catherine. (To Bluntschli.) We +should be most happy, Bluntschli, if it were only a question of +your position; but hang it, you know, Raina is accustomed to a +very comfortable establishment. Sergius keeps twenty horses. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI. But what on earth is the use of twenty horses? Why, +it's a circus. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE (severely). My daughter, sir, is accustomed to a +first-rate stable. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA. Hush, mother, you're making me ridiculous. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI. Oh, well, if it comes to a question of an +establishment, here goes! (He goes impetuously to the table and +seizes the papers in the blue envelope.) How many horses did you +say? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS. Twenty, noble Switzer! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI. I have two hundred horses. (They are amazed.) How +many carriages? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS. Three. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI. I have seventy. Twenty-four of them will hold twelve +inside, besides two on the box, without counting the driver and +conductor. How many tablecloths have you? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS. How the deuce do I know? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI. Have you four thousand? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS. NO. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI. I have. I have nine thousand six hundred pairs of +sheets and blankets, with two thousand four hundred eider-down +quilts. I have ten thousand knives and forks, and the same +quantity of dessert spoons. I have six hundred servants. I have +six palatial establishments, besides two livery stables, a tea +garden and a private house. I have four medals for distinguished +services; I have the rank of an officer and the standing of a +gentleman; and I have three native languages. Show me any man in +Bulgaria that can offer as much. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF (with childish awe). Are you Emperor of Switzerland? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI. My rank is the highest known in Switzerland: I'm a +free citizen. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +CATHERINE. Then Captain Bluntschli, since you are my daughter's +choice, I shall not stand in the way of her happiness. (Petkoff +is about to speak.) That is Major Petkoff's feeling also. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +PETKOFF. Oh, I shall be only too glad. Two hundred horses! Whew! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS. What says the lady? +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (pretending to sulk). The lady says that he can keep his +tablecloths and his omnibuses. I am not here to be sold to the +highest bidder. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI. I won't take that answer. I appealed to you as a +fugitive, a beggar, and a starving man. You accepted me. You +gave me your hand to kiss, your bed to sleep in, and your roof +to shelter me— +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (interrupting him). I did not give them to the Emperor of +Switzerland! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI. That's just what I say. (He catches her hand quickly +and looks her straight in the face as he adds, with confident +mastery) Now tell us who you did give them to. +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +RAINA (succumbing with a shy smile). To my chocolate cream +soldier! +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +BLUNTSCHLI (with a boyish laugh of delight). That'll do. Thank +you. (Looks at his watch and suddenly becomes businesslike.) +Time's up, Major. You've managed those regiments so well that +you are sure to be asked to get rid of some of the Infantry of +the Teemok division. Send them home by way of Lom Palanka. +Saranoff: don't get married until I come back: I shall be here +punctually at five in the evening on Tuesday fortnight. Gracious +ladies—good evening. (He makes them a military bow, and goes.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="dialog"> +SERGIUS. What a man! What a man! +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Arms and the Man, by George Bernard Shaw + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ARMS AND THE MAN *** + +***** This file should be named 3618-h.htm or 3618-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/1/3618/ + +Produced by Jim Tinsley <jtinsley@pobox.com> with help +from the distributed proofreaders at +http://charlz.dynip.com/gutenberg + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.net/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.net), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.net + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + +</BODY> + +</HTML> + + diff --git a/old/3618.txt b/old/3618.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0dc49e9 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/3618.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3880 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Arms and the Man, by George Bernard Shaw + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Arms and the Man + +Author: George Bernard Shaw + +Posting Date: November 21, 2010 [EBook #3618] +Release Date: January, 2003 +First Posted: June 17, 2001 +Last Updated: June 21, 2015 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ARMS AND THE MAN *** + + + + +Produced by Jim Tinsley <jtinsley@pobox.com> with help +from the distributed proofreaders at +http://charlz.dynip.com/gutenberg + + + + + + + + + + +Arms and the Man + +by George Bernard Shaw + + + + +INTRODUCTION + +To the irreverent--and which of us will claim entire exemption from that +comfortable classification?--there is something very amusing in the +attitude of the orthodox criticism toward Bernard Shaw. He so obviously +disregards all the canons and unities and other things which every +well-bred dramatist is bound to respect that his work is really unworthy +of serious criticism (orthodox). Indeed he knows no more about the +dramatic art than, according to his own story in "The Man of Destiny," +Napoleon at Tavazzano knew of the Art of War. But both men were +successes each in his way--the latter won victories and the former +gained audiences, in the very teeth of the accepted theories of war and +the theatre. Shaw does not know that it is unpardonable sin to have his +characters make long speeches at one another, apparently thinking that +this embargo applies only to long speeches which consist mainly of +bombast and rhetoric. There never was an author who showed less +predilection for a specific medium by which to accomplish his results. +He recognized, early in his days, many things awry in the world and he +assumed the task of mundane reformation with a confident spirit. It +seems such a small job at twenty to set the times aright. He began as an +Essayist, but who reads essays now-a-days?--he then turned novelist with +no better success, for no one would read such preposterous stuff as he +chose to emit. He only succeeded in proving that absolutely rational men +and women--although he has created few of the latter--can be most +extremely disagreeable to our conventional way of thinking. + +As a last resort, he turned to the stage, not that he cared for the +dramatic art, for no man seems to care less about "Art for Art's sake," +being in this a perfect foil to his brilliant compatriot and +contemporary, Wilde. He cast his theories in dramatic forms merely +because no other course except silence or physical revolt was open to +him. For a long time it seemed as if this resource too was doomed to +fail him. But finally he has attained a hearing and now attempts at +suppression merely serve to advertise their victim. + +It will repay those who seek analogies in literature to compare Shaw +with Cervantes. After a life of heroic endeavor, disappointment, +slavery, and poverty, the author of "Don Quixote" gave the world a +serious work which caused to be laughed off the world's stage forever +the final vestiges of decadent chivalry. + +The institution had long been outgrown, but its vernacular continued to +be the speech and to express the thought "of the world and among the +vulgar," as the quaint, old novelist puts it, just as to-day the novel +intended for the consumption of the unenlightened must deal with peers +and millionaires and be dressed in stilted language. Marvellously he +succeeded, but in a way he least intended. We have not yet, after so +many years, determined whether it is a work to laugh or cry over. "It is +our joyfullest modern book," says Carlyle, while Landor thinks that +"readers who see nothing more than a burlesque in 'Don Quixote' have but +shallow appreciation of the work." + +Shaw in like manner comes upon the scene when many of our social usages +are outworn. He sees the fact, announces it, and we burst into guffaws. +The continuous laughter which greets Shaw's plays arises from a real +contrast in the point of view of the dramatist and his audiences. When +Pinero or Jones describes a whimsical situation we never doubt for a +moment that the author's point of view is our own and that the abnormal +predicament of his characters appeals to him in the same light as to his +audience. With Shaw this sense of community of feeling is wholly +lacking. He describes things as he sees them, and the house is in a +roar. Who is right? If we were really using our own senses and not +gazing through the glasses of convention and romance and make-believe, +should we see things as Shaw does? + +Must it not cause Shaw to doubt his own or the public's sanity to hear +audiences laughing boisterously over tragic situations? And yet, if they +did not come to laugh, they would not come at all. Mockery is the price +he must pay for a hearing. Or has he calculated to a nicety the power of +reaction? Does he seek to drive us to aspiration by the portrayal of +sordidness, to disinterestedness by the picture of selfishness, to +illusion by disillusionment? It is impossible to believe that he is +unconscious of the humor of his dramatic situations, yet he stoically +gives no sign. He even dares the charge, terrible in proportion to its +truth, which the most serious of us shrinks from--the lack of a sense of +humor. Men would rather have their integrity impugned. + +In "Arms and the Man" the subject which occupies the dramatist's +attention is that survival of barbarity--militarism--which raises its +horrid head from time to time to cast a doubt on the reality of our +civilization. No more hoary superstition survives than that the donning +of a uniform changes the nature of the wearer. This notion pervades +society to such an extent that when we find some soldiers placed upon +the stage acting rationally, our conventionalized senses are shocked. +The only men who have no illusions about war are those who have recently +been there, and, of course, Mr. Shaw, who has no illusions about +anything. + +It is hard to speak too highly of "Candida." No equally subtle and +incisive study of domestic relations exists in the English drama. One +has to turn to George Meredith's "The Egoist" to find such character +dissection. The central note of the play is, that with the true woman, +weakness which appeals to the maternal instinct is more powerful than +strength which offers protection. Candida is quite unpoetic, as, indeed, +with rare exceptions, women are prone to be. They have small delight in +poetry, but are the stuff of which poems and dreams are made. The +husband glorying in his strength but convicted of his weakness, the poet +pitiful in his physical impotence but strong in his perception of truth, +the hopelessly de-moralized manufacturer, the conventional and hence +emotional typist make up a group which the drama of any language may be +challenged to rival. + +In "The Man of Destiny" the object of the dramatist is not so much the +destruction as the explanation of the Napoleonic tradition, which has so +powerfully influenced generation after generation for a century. However +the man may be regarded, he was a miracle. Shaw shows that he achieved +his extraordinary career by suspending, for himself, the pressure of the +moral and conventional atmosphere, while leaving it operative for +others. Those who study this play--extravaganza, that it is--will attain +a clearer comprehension of Napoleon than they can get from all the +biographies. + +"You Never Can Tell" offers an amusing study of the play of social +conventions. The "twins" illustrate the disconcerting effects of that +perfect frankness which would make life intolerable. Gloria demonstrates +the powerlessness of reason to overcome natural instincts. The idea that +parental duties and functions can be fulfilled by the light of such +knowledge as man and woman attain by intuition is brilliantly lampooned. +Crampton, the father, typifies the common superstition that among the +privileges of parenthood are inflexibility, tyranny, and respect, the +last entirely regardless of whether it has been deserved. + +The waiter, William, is the best illustration of the man "who knows his +place" that the stage has seen. He is the most pathetic figure of the +play. One touch of verisimilitude is lacking; none of the guests gives +him a tip, yet he maintains his urbanity. As Mr. Shaw has not yet +visited America he may be unaware of the improbability of this +situation. + +To those who regard literary men merely as purveyors of amusement for +people who have not wit enough to entertain themselves, Ibsen and Shaw, +Maeterlinck and Gorky must remain enigmas. It is so much pleasanter to +ignore than to face unpleasant realities--to take Riverside Drive and +not Mulberry Street as the exponent of our life and the expression of +our civilization. These men are the sappers and miners of the advancing +army of justice. The audience which demands the truth and despises the +contemptible conventions that dominate alike our stage and our life is +daily growing. Shaw and men like him--if indeed he is not absolutely +unique--will not for the future lack a hearing. + +M. + + + + + + +ARMS AND THE MAN + +ACT I + + Night. A lady's bedchamber in Bulgaria, in a small + town near the Dragoman Pass. It is late in + November in the year 1885, and through an open + window with a little balcony on the left can be + seen a peak of the Balkans, wonderfully white and + beautiful in the starlit snow. The interior of the + room is not like anything to be seen in the east + of Europe. It is half rich Bulgarian, half cheap + Viennese. The counterpane and hangings of the bed, + the window curtains, the little carpet, and all + the ornamental textile fabrics in the room are + oriental and gorgeous: the paper on the walls is + occidental and paltry. Above the head of the bed, + which stands against a little wall cutting off the + right hand corner of the room diagonally, is a + painted wooden shrine, blue and gold, with an + ivory image of Christ, and a light hanging before + it in a pierced metal ball suspended by three + chains. On the left, further forward, is an + ottoman. The washstand, against the wall on the + left, consists of an enamelled iron basin with a + pail beneath it in a painted metal frame, and a + single towel on the rail at the side. A chair near + it is Austrian bent wood, with cane seat. The + dressing table, between the bed and the window, is + an ordinary pine table, covered with a cloth of + many colors, but with an expensive toilet mirror + on it. The door is on the right; and there is a + chest of drawers between the door and the bed. + This chest of drawers is also covered by a + variegated native cloth, and on it there is a pile + of paper backed novels, a box of chocolate creams, + and a miniature easel, on which is a large + photograph of an extremely handsome officer, whose + lofty bearing and magnetic glance can be felt even + from the portrait. The room is lighted by a candle + on the chest of drawers, and another on the + dressing table, with a box of matches beside it. + + The window is hinged doorwise and stands wide + open, folding back to the left. Outside a pair of + wooden shutters, opening outwards, also stand + open. On the balcony, a young lady, intensely + conscious of the romantic beauty of the night, and + of the fact that her own youth and beauty is a part + of it, is on the balcony, gazing at the snowy + Balkans. She is covered by a long mantle of furs, + worth, on a moderate estimate, about three times + the furniture of her room. + + Her reverie is interrupted by her mother, + Catherine Petkoff, a woman over forty, imperiously + energetic, with magnificent black hair and eyes, + who might be a very splendid specimen of the wife + of a mountain farmer, but is determined to be a + Viennese lady, and to that end wears a fashionable + tea gown on all occasions. + +CATHERINE (entering hastily, full of good news). Raina--(she +pronounces it Rah-eena, with the stress on the ee) Raina--(she +goes to the bed, expecting to find Raina there.) Why, +where--(Raina looks into the room.) Heavens! child, are you out +in the night air instead of in your bed? You'll catch your +death. Louka told me you were asleep. + +RAINA (coming in). I sent her away. I wanted to be alone. The +stars are so beautiful! What is the matter? + +CATHERINE. Such news. There has been a battle! + +RAINA (her eyes dilating). Ah! (She throws the cloak on the +ottoman, and comes eagerly to Catherine in her nightgown, a +pretty garment, but evidently the only one she has on.) + +CATHERINE. A great battle at Slivnitza! A victory! And it was +won by Sergius. + +RAINA (with a cry of delight). Ah! (Rapturously.) Oh, mother! +(Then, with sudden anxiety) Is father safe? + +CATHERINE. Of course: he sent me the news. Sergius is the hero +of the hour, the idol of the regiment. + +RAINA. Tell me, tell me. How was it! (Ecstatically) Oh, mother, +mother, mother! (Raina pulls her mother down on the ottoman; and +they kiss one another frantically.) + +CATHERINE (with surging enthusiasm). You can't guess how +splendid it is. A cavalry charge--think of that! He defied our +Russian commanders--acted without orders--led a charge on his +own responsibility--headed it himself--was the first man to +sweep through their guns. Can't you see it, Raina; our gallant +splendid Bulgarians with their swords and eyes flashing, +thundering down like an avalanche and scattering the wretched +Servian dandies like chaff. And you--you kept Sergius waiting a +year before you would be betrothed to him. Oh, if you have a +drop of Bulgarian blood in your veins, you will worship him when +he comes back. + +RAINA. What will he care for my poor little worship after the +acclamations of a whole army of heroes? But no matter: I am so +happy--so proud! (She rises and walks about excitedly.) It +proves that all our ideas were real after all. + +CATHERINE (indignantly). Our ideas real! What do you mean? + +RAINA. Our ideas of what Sergius would do--our patriotism--our +heroic ideals. Oh, what faithless little creatures girls are!--I +sometimes used to doubt whether they were anything but dreams. +When I buckled on Sergius's sword he looked so noble: it was +treason to think of disillusion or humiliation or failure. And +yet--and yet--(Quickly.) Promise me you'll never tell him. + +CATHERINE. Don't ask me for promises until I know what I am +promising. + +RAINA. Well, it came into my head just as he was holding me in +his arms and looking into my eyes, that perhaps we only had our +heroic ideas because we are so fond of reading Byron and +Pushkin, and because we were so delighted with the opera that +season at Bucharest. Real life is so seldom like that--indeed +never, as far as I knew it then. (Remorsefully.) Only think, +mother, I doubted him: I wondered whether all his heroic +qualities and his soldiership might not prove mere imagination +when he went into a real battle. I had an uneasy fear that he +might cut a poor figure there beside all those clever Russian +officers. + +CATHERINE. A poor figure! Shame on you! The Servians have +Austrian officers who are just as clever as our Russians; but we +have beaten them in every battle for all that. + +RAINA (laughing and sitting down again). Yes, I was only a +prosaic little coward. Oh, to think that it was all true--that +Sergius is just as splendid and noble as he looks--that the +world is really a glorious world for women who can see its glory +and men who can act its romance! What happiness! what +unspeakable fulfilment! Ah! (She throws herself on her knees +beside her mother and flings her arms passionately round her. +They are interrupted by the entry of Louka, a handsome, proud +girl in a pretty Bulgarian peasant's dress with double apron, so +defiant that her servility to Raina is almost insolent. She is +afraid of Catherine, but even with her goes as far as she dares. +She is just now excited like the others; but she has no sympathy +for Raina's raptures and looks contemptuously at the ecstasies +of the two before she addresses them.) + +LOUKA. If you please, madam, all the windows are to be closed +and the shutters made fast. They say there may be shooting in +the streets. (Raina and Catherine rise together, alarmed.) The +Servians are being chased right back through the pass; and they +say they may run into the town. Our cavalry will be after them; +and our people will be ready for them you may be sure, now that +they are running away. (She goes out on the balcony and pulls +the outside shutters to; then steps back into the room.) + +RAINA. I wish our people were not so cruel. What glory is there +in killing wretched fugitives? + +CATHERINE (business-like, her housekeeping instincts aroused). +I must see that everything is made safe downstairs. + +RAINA (to Louka). Leave the shutters so that I can just close +them if I hear any noise. + +CATHERINE (authoritatively, turning on her way to the door). +Oh, no, dear, you must keep them fastened. You would be sure to +drop off to sleep and leave them open. Make them fast, Louka. + +LOUKA. Yes, madam. (She fastens them.) + +RAINA. Don't be anxious about me. The moment I hear a shot, I +shall blow out the candles and roll myself up in bed with my +ears well covered. + +CATHERINE. Quite the wisest thing you can do, my love. +Good-night. + +RAINA. Good-night. (They kiss one another, and Raina's emotion +comes back for a moment.) Wish me joy of the happiest night of +my life--if only there are no fugitives. + +CATHERINE. Go to bed, dear; and don't think of them. (She goes +out.) + +LOUKA (secretly, to Raina). If you would like the shutters +open, just give them a push like this. (She pushes them: they +open: she pulls them to again.) One of them ought to be bolted +at the bottom; but the bolt's gone. + +RAINA (with dignity, reproving her). Thanks, Louka; but we must +do what we are told. (Louka makes a grimace.) Good-night. + +LOUKA (carelessly). Good-night. (She goes out, swaggering.) + + (Raina, left alone, goes to the chest of drawers, + and adores the portrait there with feelings that + are beyond all expression. She does not kiss it or + press it to her breast, or shew it any mark of + bodily affection; but she takes it in her hands + and elevates it like a priestess.) + +RAINA (looking up at the picture with worship.) Oh, I shall +never be unworthy of you any more, my hero--never, never, never. + + (She replaces it reverently, and selects a novel + from the little pile of books. She turns over the + leaves dreamily; finds her page; turns the book + inside out at it; and then, with a happy sigh, + gets into bed and prepares to read herself to + sleep. But before abandoning herself to fiction, + she raises her eyes once more, thinking of the + blessed reality and murmurs) + +My hero! my hero! + + (A distant shot breaks the quiet of the night + outside. She starts, listening; and two more + shots, much nearer, follow, startling her so that + she scrambles out of bed, and hastily blows out + the candle on the chest of drawers. Then, putting + her fingers in her ears, she runs to the + dressing-table and blows out the light there, and + hurries back to bed. The room is now in darkness: + nothing is visible but the glimmer of the light in + the pierced ball before the image, and the + starlight seen through the slits at the top of the + shutters. The firing breaks out again: there is a + startling fusillade quite close at hand. Whilst it + is still echoing, the shutters disappear, pulled + open from without, and for an instant the + rectangle of snowy starlight flashes out with the + figure of a man in black upon it. The shutters + close immediately and the room is dark again. But + the silence is now broken by the sound of panting. + Then there is a scrape; and the flame of a match + is seen in the middle of the room.) + +RAINA (crouching on the bed). Who's there? (The match is out +instantly.) Who's there? Who is that? + +A MAN'S VOICE (in the darkness, subduedly, but threateningly). +Sh--sh! Don't call out or you'll be shot. Be good; and no harm +will happen to you. (She is heard leaving her bed, and making +for the door.) Take care, there's no use in trying to run away. +Remember, if you raise your voice my pistol will go off. +(Commandingly.) Strike a light and let me see you. Do you hear? +(Another moment of silence and darkness. Then she is heard +retreating to the dressing-table. She lights a candle, and the +mystery is at an end. A man of about 35, in a deplorable plight, +bespattered with mud and blood and snow, his belt and the strap +of his revolver case keeping together the torn ruins of the blue +coat of a Servian artillery officer. As far as the candlelight +and his unwashed, unkempt condition make it possible to judge, +he is a man of middling stature and undistinguished appearance, +with strong neck and shoulders, a roundish, obstinate looking +head covered with short crisp bronze curls, clear quick blue +eyes and good brows and mouth, a hopelessly prosaic nose like +that of a strong-minded baby, trim soldierlike carriage and +energetic manner, and with all his wits about him in spite of +his desperate predicament--even with a sense of humor of it, +without, however, the least intention of trifling with it or +throwing away a chance. He reckons up what he can guess about +Raina--her age, her social position, her character, the extent +to which she is frightened--at a glance, and continues, more +politely but still most determinedly) Excuse my disturbing you; +but you recognise my uniform--Servian. If I'm caught I shall be +killed. (Determinedly.) Do you understand that? + +RAINA. Yes. + +MAN. Well, I don't intend to get killed if I can help it. (Still +more determinedly.) Do you understand that? (He locks the door +with a snap.) + +RAINA (disdainfully). I suppose not. (She draws herself up +superbly, and looks him straight in the face, saying with +emphasis) Some soldiers, I know, are afraid of death. + +MAN (with grim goodhumor). All of them, dear lady, all of them, +believe me. It is our duty to live as long as we can, and kill +as many of the enemy as we can. Now if you raise an alarm-- + +RAINA (cutting him short). You will shoot me. How do you know +that I am afraid to die? + +MAN (cunningly). Ah; but suppose I don't shoot you, what will +happen then? Why, a lot of your cavalry--the greatest +blackguards in your army--will burst into this pretty room of +yours and slaughter me here like a pig; for I'll fight like a +demon: they shan't get me into the street to amuse themselves +with: I know what they are. Are you prepared to receive that +sort of company in your present undress? (Raina, suddenly +conscious of her nightgown, instinctively shrinks and gathers it +more closely about her. He watches her, and adds, pitilessly) +It's rather scanty, eh? (She turns to the ottoman. He raises his +pistol instantly, and cries) Stop! (She stops.) Where are you +going? + +RAINA (with dignified patience). Only to get my cloak. + +MAN (darting to the ottoman and snatching the cloak). A good +idea. No: I'll keep the cloak: and you will take care that +nobody comes in and sees you without it. This is a better weapon +than the pistol. (He throws the pistol down on the ottoman.) + +RAINA (revolted). It is not the weapon of a gentleman! + +MAN. It's good enough for a man with only you to stand between +him and death. (As they look at one another for a moment, Raina +hardly able to believe that even a Servian officer can be so +cynically and selfishly unchivalrous, they are startled by a +sharp fusillade in the street. The chill of imminent death +hushes the man's voice as he adds) Do you hear? If you are going +to bring those scoundrels in on me you shall receive them as you +are. (Raina meets his eye with unflinching scorn. Suddenly he +starts, listening. There is a step outside. Someone tries the +door, and then knocks hurriedly and urgently at it. Raina looks +at the man, breathless. He throws up his head with the gesture +of a man who sees that it is all over with him, and, dropping +the manner which he has been assuming to intimidate her, flings +the cloak to her, exclaiming, sincerely and kindly) No use: I'm +done for. Quick! wrap yourself up: they're coming! + +RAINA (catching the cloak eagerly). Oh, thank you. (She wraps +herself up with great relief. He draws his sabre and turns to +the door, waiting.) + +LOUKA (outside, knocking). My lady, my lady! Get up, quick, and +open the door. + +RAINA (anxiously). What will you do? + +MAN (grimly). Never mind. Keep out of the way. It will not last +long. + +RAINA (impulsively). I'll help you. Hide yourself, oh, hide +yourself, quick, behind the curtain. (She seizes him by a torn +strip of his sleeve, and pulls him towards the window.) + +MAN (yielding to her). There is just half a chance, if you keep +your head. Remember: nine soldiers out of ten are born fools. +(He hides behind the curtain, looking out for a moment to say, +finally) If they find me, I promise you a fight--a devil of a +fight! (He disappears. Raina takes off the cloak and throws it +across the foot of the bed. Then with a sleepy, disturbed air, +she opens the door. Louka enters excitedly.) + +LOUKA. A man has been seen climbing up the water-pipe to your +balcony--a Servian. The soldiers want to search for him; and +they are so wild and drunk and furious. My lady says you are to +dress at once. + +RAINA (as if annoyed at being disturbed). They shall not search +here. Why have they been let in? + +CATHERINE (coming in hastily). Raina, darling, are you safe? +Have you seen anyone or heard anything? + +RAINA. I heard the shooting. Surely the soldiers will not dare +come in here? + +CATHERINE. I have found a Russian officer, thank Heaven: he +knows Sergius. (Speaking through the door to someone outside.) +Sir, will you come in now! My daughter is ready. + + (A young Russian officer, in Bulgarian uniform, + enters, sword in hand.) + +THE OFFICER. (with soft, feline politeness and stiff military +carriage). Good evening, gracious lady; I am sorry to intrude, +but there is a fugitive hiding on the balcony. Will you and the +gracious lady your mother please to withdraw whilst we search? + +RAINA (petulantly). Nonsense, sir, you can see that there is no +one on the balcony. (She throws the shutters wide open and +stands with her back to the curtain where the man is hidden, +pointing to the moonlit balcony. A couple of shots are fired +right under the window, and a bullet shatters the glass opposite +Raina, who winks and gasps, but stands her ground, whilst +Catherine screams, and the officer rushes to the balcony.) + +THE OFFICER. (on the balcony, shouting savagely down to the +street). Cease firing there, you fools: do you hear? Cease +firing, damn you. (He glares down for a moment; then turns to +Raina, trying to resume his polite manner.) Could anyone have +got in without your knowledge? Were you asleep? + +RAINA. No, I have not been to bed. + +THE OFFICER. (impatiently, coming back into the room). Your +neighbours have their heads so full of runaway Servians that +they see them everywhere. (Politely.) Gracious lady, a thousand +pardons. Good-night. (Military bow, which Raina returns coldly. +Another to Catherine, who follows him out. Raina closes the +shutters. She turns and sees Louka, who has been watching the +scene curiously.) + +RAINA. Don't leave my mother, Louka, whilst the soldiers are +here. (Louka glances at Raina, at the ottoman, at the curtain; +then purses her lips secretively, laughs to herself, and goes +out. Raina follows her to the door, shuts it behind her with a +slam, and locks it violently. The man immediately steps out from +behind the curtain, sheathing his sabre, and dismissing the +danger from his mind in a businesslike way.) + +MAN. A narrow shave; but a miss is as good as a mile. Dear young +lady, your servant until death. I wish for your sake I had +joined the Bulgarian army instead of the Servian. I am not a +native Servian. + +RAINA (haughtily). No, you are one of the Austrians who set the +Servians on to rob us of our national liberty, and who officer +their army for them. We hate them! + +MAN. Austrian! not I. Don't hate me, dear young lady. I am only +a Swiss, fighting merely as a professional soldier. I joined +Servia because it was nearest to me. Be generous: you've beaten +us hollow. + +RAINA. Have I not been generous? + +MAN. Noble!--heroic! But I'm not saved yet. This particular rush +will soon pass through; but the pursuit will go on all night by +fits and starts. I must take my chance to get off during a quiet +interval. You don't mind my waiting just a minute or two, do +you? + +RAINA. Oh, no: I am sorry you will have to go into danger again. +(Motioning towards ottoman.) Won't you sit--(She breaks off +with an irrepressible cry of alarm as she catches sight of the +pistol. The man, all nerves, shies like a frightened horse.) + +MAN (irritably). Don't frighten me like that. What is it? + +RAINA. Your pistol! It was staring that officer in the face all +the time. What an escape! + +MAN (vexed at being unnecessarily terrified). Oh, is that all? + +RAINA (staring at him rather superciliously, conceiving a +poorer and poorer opinion of him, and feeling proportionately +more and more at her ease with him). I am sorry I frightened +you. (She takes up the pistol and hands it to him.) Pray take it +to protect yourself against me. + +MAN (grinning wearily at the sarcasm as he takes the pistol). +No use, dear young lady: there's nothing in it. It's not loaded. +(He makes a grimace at it, and drops it disparagingly into his +revolver case.) + +RAINA. Load it by all means. + +MAN. I've no ammunition. What use are cartridges in battle? I +always carry chocolate instead; and I finished the last cake of +that yesterday. + +RAINA (outraged in her most cherished ideals of manhood). +Chocolate! Do you stuff your pockets with sweets--like a +schoolboy--even in the field? + +MAN. Yes. Isn't it contemptible? + + (Raina stares at him, unable to utter her + feelings. Then she sails away scornfully to the + chest of drawers, and returns with the box of + confectionery in her hand.) + +RAINA. Allow me. I am sorry I have eaten them all except these. +(She offers him the box.) + +MAN (ravenously). You're an angel! (He gobbles the comfits.) +Creams! Delicious! (He looks anxiously to see whether there are +any more. There are none. He accepts the inevitable with +pathetic goodhumor, and says, with grateful emotion) Bless you, +dear lady. You can always tell an old soldier by the inside of +his holsters and cartridge boxes. The young ones carry pistols +and cartridges; the old ones, grub. Thank you. (He hands back +the box. She snatches it contemptuously from him and throws it +away. This impatient action is so sudden that he shies again.) +Ugh! Don't do things so suddenly, gracious lady. Don't revenge +yourself because I frightened you just now. + +RAINA (superbly). Frighten me! Do you know, sir, that though I +am only a woman, I think I am at heart as brave as you. + +MAN. I should think so. You haven't been under fire for three +days as I have. I can stand two days without shewing it much; +but no man can stand three days: I'm as nervous as a mouse. (He +sits down on the ottoman, and takes his head in his hands.) +Would you like to see me cry? + +RAINA (quickly). No. + +MAN. If you would, all you have to do is to scold me just as if +I were a little boy and you my nurse. If I were in camp now +they'd play all sorts of tricks on me. + +RAINA (a little moved). I'm sorry. I won't scold you. (Touched +by the sympathy in her tone, he raises his head and looks +gratefully at her: she immediately draws back and says stiffly) +You must excuse me: our soldiers are not like that. (She moves +away from the ottoman.) + +MAN. Oh, yes, they are. There are only two sorts of soldiers: +old ones and young ones. I've served fourteen years: half of +your fellows never smelt powder before. Why, how is it that +you've just beaten us? Sheer ignorance of the art of war, +nothing else. (Indignantly.) I never saw anything so +unprofessional. + +RAINA (ironically). Oh, was it unprofessional to beat you? + +MAN. Well, come, is it professional to throw a regiment of +cavalry on a battery of machine guns, with the dead certainty +that if the guns go off not a horse or man will ever get within +fifty yards of the fire? I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw +it. + +RAINA (eagerly turning to him, as all her enthusiasm and her +dream of glory rush back on her). Did you see the great cavalry +charge? Oh, tell me about it. Describe it to me. + +MAN. You never saw a cavalry charge, did you? + +RAINA. How could I? + +MAN. Ah, perhaps not--of course. Well, it's a funny sight. It's +like slinging a handful of peas against a window pane: first one +comes; then two or three close behind him; and then all the rest +in a lump. + +RAINA (her eyes dilating as she raises her clasped hands +ecstatically). Yes, first One!--the bravest of the brave! + +MAN (prosaically). Hm! you should see the poor devil pulling at +his horse. + +RAINA. Why should he pull at his horse? + +MAN (impatient of so stupid a question). It's running away with +him, of course: do you suppose the fellow wants to get there +before the others and be killed? Then they all come. You can +tell the young ones by their wildness and their slashing. The +old ones come bunched up under the number one guard: they know +that they are mere projectiles, and that it's no use trying to +fight. The wounds are mostly broken knees, from the horses +cannoning together. + +RAINA. Ugh! But I don't believe the first man is a coward. I +believe he is a hero! + +MAN (goodhumoredly). That's what you'd have said if you'd seen +the first man in the charge to-day. + +RAINA (breathless). Ah, I knew it! Tell me--tell me about him. + +MAN. He did it like an operatic tenor--a regular handsome +fellow, with flashing eyes and lovely moustache, shouting a +war-cry and charging like Don Quixote at the windmills. We +nearly burst with laughter at him; but when the sergeant ran up +as white as a sheet, and told us they'd sent us the wrong +cartridges, and that we couldn't fire a shot for the next ten +minutes, we laughed at the other side of our mouths. I never +felt so sick in my life, though I've been in one or two very +tight places. And I hadn't even a revolver cartridge--nothing +but chocolate. We'd no bayonets--nothing. Of course, they just +cut us to bits. And there was Don Quixote flourishing like a +drum major, thinking he'd done the cleverest thing ever known, +whereas he ought to be courtmartialled for it. Of all the fools +ever let loose on a field of battle, that man must be the very +maddest. He and his regiment simply committed suicide--only the +pistol missed fire, that's all. + +RAINA (deeply wounded, but steadfastly loyal to her ideals). +Indeed! Would you know him again if you saw him? + +MAN. Shall I ever forget him. (She again goes to the chest of +drawers. He watches her with a vague hope that she may have +something else for him to eat. She takes the portrait from its +stand and brings it to him.) + +RAINA. That is a photograph of the gentleman--the patriot and +hero--to whom I am betrothed. + +MAN (looking at it). I'm really very sorry. (Looking at her.) +Was it fair to lead me on? (He looks at the portrait again.) +Yes: that's him: not a doubt of it. (He stifles a laugh.) + +RAINA (quickly). Why do you laugh? + +MAN (shamefacedly, but still greatly tickled). I didn't laugh, +I assure you. At least I didn't mean to. But when I think of him +charging the windmills and thinking he was doing the finest +thing--(chokes with suppressed laughter). + +RAINA (sternly). Give me back the portrait, sir. + +MAN (with sincere remorse). Of course. Certainly. I'm really +very sorry. (She deliberately kisses it, and looks him straight +in the face, before returning to the chest of drawers to replace +it. He follows her, apologizing.) Perhaps I'm quite wrong, you +know: no doubt I am. Most likely he had got wind of the +cartridge business somehow, and knew it was a safe job. + +RAINA. That is to say, he was a pretender and a coward! You did +not dare say that before. + +MAN (with a comic gesture of despair). It's no use, dear lady: +I can't make you see it from the professional point of view. (As +he turns away to get back to the ottoman, the firing begins +again in the distance.) + +RAINA (sternly, as she sees him listening to the shots). So +much the better for you. + +MAN (turning). How? + +RAINA. You are my enemy; and you are at my mercy. What would I +do if I were a professional soldier? + +MAN. Ah, true, dear young lady: you're always right. I know how +good you have been to me: to my last hour I shall remember those +three chocolate creams. It was unsoldierly; but it was angelic. + +RAINA (coldly). Thank you. And now I will do a soldierly thing. +You cannot stay here after what you have just said about my +future husband; but I will go out on the balcony and see whether +it is safe for you to climb down into the street. (She turns to +the window.) + +MAN (changing countenance). Down that waterpipe! Stop! Wait! I +can't! I daren't! The very thought of it makes me giddy. I came +up it fast enough with death behind me. But to face it now in +cold blood!--(He sinks on the ottoman.) It's no use: I give up: +I'm beaten. Give the alarm. (He drops his head in his hands in +the deepest dejection.) + +RAINA (disarmed by pity). Come, don't be disheartened. (She +stoops over him almost maternally: he shakes his head.) Oh, you +are a very poor soldier--a chocolate cream soldier. Come, cheer +up: it takes less courage to climb down than to face +capture--remember that. + +MAN (dreamily, lulled by her voice). No, capture only means +death; and death is sleep--oh, sleep, sleep, sleep, undisturbed +sleep! Climbing down the pipe means doing something--exerting +myself--thinking! Death ten times over first. + +RAINA (softly and wonderingly, catching the rhythm of his +weariness). Are you so sleepy as that? + +MAN. I've not had two hours' undisturbed sleep since the war +began. I'm on the staff: you don't know what that means. I +haven't closed my eyes for thirty-six hours. + +RAINA (desperately). But what am I to do with you. + +MAN (staggering up). Of course I must do something. (He shakes +himself; pulls himself together; and speaks with rallied vigour +and courage.) You see, sleep or no sleep, hunger or no hunger, +tired or not tired, you can always do a thing when you know it +must be done. Well, that pipe must be got down--(He hits himself +on the chest, and adds)--Do you hear that, you chocolate cream +soldier? (He turns to the window.) + +RAINA (anxiously). But if you fall? + +MAN. I shall sleep as if the stones were a feather bed. +Good-bye. (He makes boldly for the window, and his hand is on +the shutter when there is a terrible burst of firing in the +street beneath.) + +RAINA (rushing to him). Stop! (She catches him by the shoulder, +and turns him quite round.) They'll kill you. + +MAN (coolly, but attentively). Never mind: this sort of thing +is all in my day's work. I'm bound to take my chance. +(Decisively.) Now do what I tell you. Put out the candles, so +that they shan't see the light when I open the shutters. And +keep away from the window, whatever you do. If they see me, +they're sure to have a shot at me. + +RAINA (clinging to him). They're sure to see you: it's bright +moonlight. I'll save you--oh, how can you be so indifferent? You +want me to save you, don't you? + +MAN. I really don't want to be troublesome. (She shakes him in +her impatience.) I am not indifferent, dear young lady, I assure +you. But how is it to be done? + +RAINA. Come away from the window--please. (She coaxes him back +to the middle of the room. He submits humbly. She releases him, +and addresses him patronizingly.) Now listen. You must trust to +our hospitality. You do not yet know in whose house you are. I +am a Petkoff. + +MAN. What's that? + +RAINA (rather indignantly). I mean that I belong to the family +of the Petkoffs, the richest and best known in our country. + +MAN. Oh, yes, of course. I beg your pardon. The Petkoffs, to be +sure. How stupid of me! + +RAINA. You know you never heard of them until this minute. How +can you stoop to pretend? + +MAN. Forgive me: I'm too tired to think; and the change of +subject was too much for me. Don't scold me. + +RAINA. I forgot. It might make you cry. (He nods, quite +seriously. She pouts and then resumes her patronizing tone.) I +must tell you that my father holds the highest command of any +Bulgarian in our army. He is (proudly) a Major. + +MAN (pretending to be deeply impressed). A Major! Bless me! +Think of that! + +RAINA. You shewed great ignorance in thinking that it was +necessary to climb up to the balcony, because ours is the only +private house that has two rows of windows. There is a flight of +stairs inside to get up and down by. + +MAN. Stairs! How grand! You live in great luxury indeed, dear +young lady. + +RAINA. Do you know what a library is? + +MAN. A library? A roomful of books. + +RAINA. Yes, we have one, the only one in Bulgaria. + +MAN. Actually a real library! I should like to see that. + +RAINA (affectedly). I tell you these things to shew you that +you are not in the house of ignorant country folk who would kill +you the moment they saw your Servian uniform, but among +civilized people. We go to Bucharest every year for the opera +season; and I have spent a whole month in Vienna. + +MAN. I saw that, dear young lady. I saw at once that you knew +the world. + +RAINA. Have you ever seen the opera of Ernani? + +MAN. Is that the one with the devil in it in red velvet, and a +soldier's chorus? + +RAINA (contemptuously). No! + +MAN (stifling a heavy sigh of weariness). Then I don't know it. + +RAINA. I thought you might have remembered the great scene where +Ernani, flying from his foes just as you are tonight, takes +refuge in the castle of his bitterest enemy, an old Castilian +noble. The noble refuses to give him up. His guest is sacred to +him. + +MAN (quickly waking up a little). Have your people got that +notion? + +RAINA (with dignity). My mother and I can understand that +notion, as you call it. And if instead of threatening me with +your pistol as you did, you had simply thrown yourself as a +fugitive on our hospitality, you would have been as safe as in +your father's house. + +MAN. Quite sure? + +RAINA (turning her back on him in disgust.) Oh, it is useless +to try and make you understand. + +MAN. Don't be angry: you see how awkward it would be for me if +there was any mistake. My father is a very hospitable man: he +keeps six hotels; but I couldn't trust him as far as that. What +about YOUR father? + +RAINA. He is away at Slivnitza fighting for his country. I +answer for your safety. There is my hand in pledge of it. Will +that reassure you? (She offers him her hand.) + +MAN (looking dubiously at his own hand). Better not touch my +hand, dear young lady. I must have a wash first. + +RAINA (touched). That is very nice of you. I see that you are a +gentleman. + +MAN (puzzled). Eh? + +RAINA. You must not think I am surprised. Bulgarians of really +good standing--people in OUR position--wash their hands nearly +every day. But I appreciate your delicacy. You may take my hand. +(She offers it again.) + +MAN (kissing it with his hands behind his back). Thanks, +gracious young lady: I feel safe at last. And now would you mind +breaking the news to your mother? I had better not stay here +secretly longer than is necessary. + +RAINA. If you will be so good as to keep perfectly still whilst +I am away. + +MAN. Certainly. (He sits down on the ottoman.) + + (Raina goes to the bed and wraps herself in the + fur cloak. His eyes close. She goes to the door, + but on turning for a last look at him, sees that + he is dropping of to sleep.) + +RAINA (at the door). You are not going asleep, are you? +(He murmurs inarticulately: she runs to him and shakes him.) +Do you hear? Wake up: you are falling asleep. + +MAN. Eh? Falling aslee--? Oh, no, not the least in +the world: I was only thinking. It's all right: I'm wide +awake. + +RAINA (severely). Will you please stand up while I am +away. (He rises reluctantly.) All the time, mind. + +MAN (standing unsteadily). Certainly--certainly: you +may depend on me. + + (Raina looks doubtfully at him. He smiles + foolishly. She goes reluctantly, turning + again at the door, and almost catching him + in the act of yawning. She goes out.) + +MAN (drowsily). Sleep, sleep, sleep, sleep, slee--(The +words trail off into a murmur. He wakes again with a +shock on the point of falling.) Where am I? That's what +I want to know: where am I? Must keep awake. Nothing +keeps me awake except danger--remember that--(intently) +danger, danger, danger, dan-- Where's danger? Must +find it. (He starts of vaguely around the room in search of +it.) What am I looking for? Sleep--danger--don't know. +(He stumbles against the bed.) Ah, yes: now I know. All +right now. I'm to go to bed, but not to sleep--be sure +not to sleep--because of danger. Not to lie down, either, +only sit down. (He sits on the bed. A blissful expression +comes into his face.) Ah! (With a happy sigh he sinks back +at full length; lifts his boots into the bed with a final +effort; and falls fast asleep instantly.) + + (Catherine comes in, followed by Raina.) + +RAINA (looking at the ottoman). He's gone! I left him +here. + +CATHERINE, Here! Then he must have climbed down from the-- + +RAINA (seeing him). Oh! (She points.) + +CATHERINE (scandalized). Well! (She strides to the left +side of the bed, Raina following and standing opposite her on +the right.) He's fast asleep. The brute! + +RAINA (anxiously). Sh! + +CATHERINE (shaking him). Sir! (Shaking him again, +harder.) Sir!! (Vehemently shaking very bard.) Sir!!! + +RAINA (catching her arm). Don't, mamma: the poor dear +is worn out. Let him sleep. + +CATHERINE (letting him go and turning amazed to Raina). +The poor dear! Raina!!! (She looks sternly at her +daughter. The man sleeps profoundly.) + + + + +ACT II + + The sixth of March, 1886. In the garden of major + Petkoff's house. It is a fine spring morning; and + the garden looks fresh and pretty. Beyond the + paling the tops of a couple of minarets can be + seen, shewing that there is a valley there, with + the little town in it. A few miles further the + Balkan mountains rise and shut in the view. Within + the garden the side of the house is seen on the + right, with a garden door reached by a little + flight of steps. On the left the stable yard, with + its gateway, encroaches on the garden. There are + fruit bushes along the paling and house, covered + with washing hung out to dry. A path runs by the + house, and rises by two steps at the corner where + it turns out of the right along the front. In the + middle a small table, with two bent wood chairs at + it, is laid for breakfast with Turkish coffee pot, + cups, rolls, etc.; but the cups have been used and + the bread broken. There is a wooden garden seat + against the wall on the left. + + Louka, smoking a cigaret, is standing between the + table and the house, turning her back with angry + disdain on a man-servant who is lecturing her. He + is a middle-aged man of cool temperament and low + but clear and keen intelligence, with the + complacency of the servant who values himself on + his rank in servility, and the imperturbability of + the accurate calculator who has no illusions. He + wears a white Bulgarian costume jacket with + decorated border, sash, wide knickerbockers, and + decorated gaiters. His head is shaved up to the + crown, giving him a high Japanese forehead. His + name is Nicola. + +NICOLA. Be warned in time, Louka: mend your manners. I know the +mistress. She is so grand that she never dreams that any servant +could dare to be disrespectful to her; but if she once suspects +that you are defying her, out you go. + +LOUKA. I do defy her. I will defy her. What do I care for her? + +NICOLA. If you quarrel with the family, I never can marry you. +It's the same as if you quarrelled with me! + +LOUKA. You take her part against me, do you? + +NICOLA (sedately). I shall always be dependent on the good will +of the family. When I leave their service and start a shop in +Sofia, their custom will be half my capital: their bad word +would ruin me. + +LOUKA. You have no spirit. I should like to see them dare say a +word against me! + +NICOLA (pityingly). I should have expected more sense from you, +Louka. But you're young, you're young! + +LOUKA. Yes; and you like me the better for it, don't you? But I +know some family secrets they wouldn't care to have told, young +as I am. Let them quarrel with me if they dare! + +NICOLA (with compassionate superiority). Do you know what they +would do if they heard you talk like that? + +LOUKA. What could they do? + +NICOLA. Discharge you for untruthfulness. Who would believe any +stories you told after that? Who would give you another +situation? Who in this house would dare be seen speaking to you +ever again? How long would your father be left on his little +farm? (She impatiently throws away the end of her cigaret, and +stamps on it.) Child, you don't know the power such high people +have over the like of you and me when we try to rise out of our +poverty against them. (He goes close to her and lowers his +voice.) Look at me, ten years in their service. Do you think I +know no secrets? I know things about the mistress that she +wouldn't have the master know for a thousand levas. I know +things about him that she wouldn't let him hear the last of for +six months if I blabbed them to her. I know things about Raina +that would break off her match with Sergius if-- + +LOUKA (turning on him quickly). How do you know? I never told +you! + +NICOLA (opening his eyes cunningly). So that's your little +secret, is it? I thought it might be something like that. Well, +you take my advice, and be respectful; and make the mistress +feel that no matter what you know or don't know, they can depend +on you to hold your tongue and serve the family faithfully. +That's what they like; and that's how you'll make most out of +them. + +LOUKA (with searching scorn). You have the soul of a servant, +Nicola. + +NICOLA (complacently). Yes: that's the secret of success in +service. + + (A loud knocking with a whip handle on a wooden + door, outside on the left, is heard.) + +MALE VOICE OUTSIDE. Hollo! Hollo there! Nicola! + +LOUKA. Master! back from the war! + +NICOLA (quickly). My word for it, Louka, the war's over. Off +with you and get some fresh coffee. (He runs out into the stable +yard.) + +LOUKA (as she puts the coffee pot and the cups upon the tray, +and carries it into the house). You'll never put the soul of a +servant into me. + + (Major Petkoff comes from the stable yard, + followed by Nicola. He is a cheerful, excitable, + insignificant, unpolished man of about 50, + naturally unambitious except as to his income and + his importance in local society, but just now + greatly pleased with the military rank which the + war has thrust on him as a man of consequence in + his town. The fever of plucky patriotism which the + Servian attack roused in all the Bulgarians has + pulled him through the war; but he is obviously + glad to be home again.) + +PETKOFF (pointing to the table with his whip). Breakfast out +here, eh? + +NICOLA. Yes, sir. The mistress and Miss Raina have just gone in. + +PETKOFF (fitting down and taking a roll). Go in and say I've +come; and get me some fresh coffee. + +NICOLA. It's coming, sir. (He goes to the house door. Louka, +with fresh coffee, a clean cup, and a brandy bottle on her tray +meets him.) Have you told the mistress? + +LOUKA. Yes: she's coming. + + (Nicola goes into the house. Louka brings the + coffee to the table.) + +PETKOFF. Well, the Servians haven't run away with you, have +they? + +LOUKA. No, sir. + +PETKOFF. That's right. Have you brought me some cognac? + +LOUKA (putting the bottle on the table). Here, sir. + +PETKOFF. That's right. (He pours some into his coffee.) + + (Catherine who has at this early hour made only a + very perfunctory toilet, and wears a Bulgarian + apron over a once brilliant, but now half worn out + red dressing gown, and a colored handkerchief tied + over her thick black hair, with Turkish slippers + on her bare feet, comes from the house, looking + astonishingly handsome and stately under all the + circumstances. Louka goes into the house.) + +CATHERINE. My dear Paul, what a surprise for us. (She stoops +over the back of his chair to kiss him.) Have they brought you +fresh coffee? + +PETKOFF. Yes, Louka's been looking after me. The war's over. The +treaty was signed three days ago at Bucharest; and the decree +for our army to demobilize was issued yesterday. + +CATHERINE (springing erect, with flashing eyes). The war over! +Paul: have you let the Austrians force you to make peace? + +PETKOFF (submissively). My dear: they didn't consult me. What +could _I_ do? (She sits down and turns away from him.) But of +course we saw to it that the treaty was an honorable one. It +declares peace-- + +CATHERINE (outraged). Peace! + +PETKOFF (appeasing her).--but not friendly relations: remember +that. They wanted to put that in; but I insisted on its being +struck out. What more could I do? + +CATHERINE. You could have annexed Servia and made Prince +Alexander Emperor of the Balkans. That's what I would have done. + +PETKOFF. I don't doubt it in the least, my dear. But I should +have had to subdue the whole Austrian Empire first; and that +would have kept me too long away from you. I missed you greatly. + +CATHERINE (relenting). Ah! (Stretches her hand affectionately +across the table to squeeze his.) + +PETKOFF. And how have you been, my dear? + +CATHERINE. Oh, my usual sore throats, that's all. + +PETKOFF (with conviction). That comes from washing your neck +every day. I've often told you so. + +CATHERINE. Nonsense, Paul! + +PETKOFF (over his coffee and cigaret). I don't believe in going +too far with these modern customs. All this washing can't be +good for the health: it's not natural. There was an Englishman +at Phillipopolis who used to wet himself all over with cold +water every morning when he got up. Disgusting! It all comes +from the English: their climate makes them so dirty that they +have to be perpetually washing themselves. Look at my father: he +never had a bath in his life; and he lived to be ninety-eight, +the healthiest man in Bulgaria. I don't mind a good wash once a +week to keep up my position; but once a day is carrying the +thing to a ridiculous extreme. + +CATHERINE. You are a barbarian at heart still, Paul. I hope you +behaved yourself before all those Russian officers. + +PETKOFF. I did my best. I took care to let them know that we had +a library. + +CATHERINE. Ah; but you didn't tell them that we have an electric +bell in it? I have had one put up. + +PETKOFF. What's an electric bell? + +CATHERINE. You touch a button; something tinkles in the kitchen; +and then Nicola comes up. + +PETKOFF. Why not shout for him? + +CATHERINE. Civilized people never shout for their servants. I've +learnt that while you were away. + +PETKOFF. Well, I'll tell you something I've learnt, too. +Civilized people don't hang out their washing to dry where +visitors can see it; so you'd better have all that (indicating +the clothes on the bushes) put somewhere else. + +CATHERINE. Oh, that's absurd, Paul: I don't believe really +refined people notice such things. + + (Someone is heard knocking at the stable gates.) + +PETKOFF. There's Sergius. (Shouting.) Hollo, Nicola! + +CATHERINE. Oh, don't shout, Paul: it really isn't nice. + +PETKOFF. Bosh! (He shouts louder than before.) Nicola! + +NICOLA (appearing at the house door). Yes, sir. + +PETKOFF. If that is Major Saranoff, bring him round this way. +(He pronounces the name with the stress on the second +syllable--Sarah-noff.) + +NICOLA. Yes, sir. (He goes into the stable yard.) + +PETKOFF. You must talk to him, my dear, until Raina takes him +off our hands. He bores my life out about our not promoting +him--over my head, mind you. + +CATHERINE. He certainly ought to be promoted when he marries +Raina. Besides, the country should insist on having at least one +native general. + +PETKOFF. Yes, so that he could throw away whole brigades instead +of regiments. It's no use, my dear: he has not the slightest +chance of promotion until we are quite sure that the peace will +be a lasting one. + +NICOLA (at the gate, announcing). Major Sergius Saranoff! (He +goes into the house and returns presently with a third chair, +which he places at the table. He then withdraws.) + + (Major Sergius Saranoff, the original of the + portrait in Raina's room, is a tall, romantically + handsome man, with the physical hardihood, the + high spirit, and the susceptible imagination of an + untamed mountaineer chieftain. But his remarkable + personal distinction is of a characteristically + civilized type. The ridges of his eyebrows, + curving with a ram's-horn twist round the marked + projections at the outer corners, his jealously + observant eye, his nose, thin, keen, and + apprehensive in spite of the pugnacious high + bridge and large nostril, his assertive chin, + would not be out of place in a Paris salon. In + short, the clever, imaginative barbarian has an + acute critical faculty which has been thrown into + intense activity by the arrival of western + civilization in the Balkans; and the result is + precisely what the advent of nineteenth-century + thought first produced in England: to-wit, + Byronism. By his brooding on the perpetual + failure, not only of others, but of himself, to + live up to his imaginative ideals, his consequent + cynical scorn for humanity, the jejune credulity + as to the absolute validity of his ideals and the + unworthiness of the world in disregarding them, + his wincings and mockeries under the sting of the + petty disillusions which every hour spent among + men brings to his infallibly quick observation, he + has acquired the half tragic, half ironic air, the + mysterious moodiness, the suggestion of a strange + and terrible history that has left him nothing but + undying remorse, by which Childe Harold fascinated + the grandmothers of his English contemporaries. + Altogether it is clear that here or nowhere is + Raina's ideal hero. Catherine is hardly less + enthusiastic, and much less reserved in shewing + her enthusiasm. As he enters from the stable gate, + she rises effusively to greet him. Petkoff is + distinctly less disposed to make a fuss about + him.) + +PETKOFF. Here already, Sergius. Glad to see you! + +CATHERINE. My dear Sergius!(She holds out both her hands.) + +SERGIUS (kissing them with scrupulous gallantry). My dear +mother, if I may call you so. + +PETKOFF (drily). Mother-in-law, Sergius; mother-in-law! Sit +down, and have some coffee. + +SERGIUS. Thank you, none for me. (He gets away from the table +with a certain distaste for Petkoff's enjoyment of it, and posts +himself with conscious grace against the rail of the steps +leading to the house.) + +CATHERINE. You look superb--splendid. The campaign has improved +you. Everybody here is mad about you. We were all wild with +enthusiasm about that magnificent cavalry charge. + +SERGIUS (with grave irony). Madam: it was the cradle and the +grave of my military reputation. + +CATHERINE. How so? + +SERGIUS. I won the battle the wrong way when our worthy Russian +generals were losing it the right way. That upset their plans, +and wounded their self-esteem. Two of their colonels got their +regiments driven back on the correct principles of scientific +warfare. Two major-generals got killed strictly according to +military etiquette. Those two colonels are now major-generals; +and I am still a simple major. + +CATHERINE. You shall not remain so, Sergius. The women are on +your side; and they will see that justice is done you. + +SERGIUS. It is too late. I have only waited for the peace to +send in my resignation. + +PETKOFF (dropping his cup in his amazement). Your resignation! + +CATHERINE. Oh, you must withdraw it! + +SERGIUS (with resolute, measured emphasis, folding his arms). I +never withdraw! + +PETKOFF (vexed). Now who could have supposed you were going to +do such a thing? + +SERGIUS (with fire). Everyone that knew me. But enough of +myself and my affairs. How is Raina; and where is Raina? + +RAINA (suddenly coming round the corner of the house and +standing at the top of the steps in the path). Raina is here. +(She makes a charming picture as they all turn to look at her. +She wears an underdress of pale green silk, draped with an +overdress of thin ecru canvas embroidered with gold. On her head +she wears a pretty Phrygian cap of gold tinsel. Sergius, with an +exclamation of pleasure, goes impulsively to meet her. She +stretches out her hand: he drops chivalrously on one knee and +kisses it.) + +PETKOFF (aside to Catherine, beaming with parental pride). +Pretty, isn't it? She always appears at the right moment. + +CATHERINE (impatiently). Yes: she listens for it. It is an +abominable habit. + + (Sergius leads Raina forward with splendid gallantry, + as if she were a queen. When they come to the + table, she turns to him with a bend of the head; + he bows; and thus they separate, he coming to his + place, and she going behind her father's chair.) + +RAINA (stooping and kissing her father). Dear father! Welcome +home! + +PETKOFF (patting her cheek). My little pet girl. (He kisses +her; she goes to the chair left by Nicola for Sergius, and sits +down.) + +CATHERINE. And so you're no longer a soldier, Sergius. + +SERGIUS. I am no longer a soldier. Soldiering, my dear madam, is +the coward's art of attacking mercilessly when you are strong, +and keeping out of harm's way when you are weak. That is the +whole secret of successful fighting. Get your enemy at a +disadvantage; and never, on any account, fight him on equal +terms. Eh, Major! + +PETKOFF. They wouldn't let us make a fair stand-up fight of it. +However, I suppose soldiering has to be a trade like any other +trade. + +SERGIUS. Precisely. But I have no ambition to succeed as a +tradesman; so I have taken the advice of that bagman of a +captain that settled the exchange of prisoners with us at +Peerot, and given it up. + +PETKOFF. What, that Swiss fellow? Sergius: I've often thought of +that exchange since. He over-reached us about those horses. + +SERGIUS. Of course he over-reached us. His father was a hotel +and livery stable keeper; and he owed his first step to his +knowledge of horse-dealing. (With mock enthusiasm.) Ah, he was a +soldier--every inch a soldier! If only I had bought the horses +for my regiment instead of foolishly leading it into danger, I +should have been a field-marshal now! + +CATHERINE. A Swiss? What was he doing in the Servian army? + +PETKOFF. A volunteer of course--keen on picking up his +profession. (Chuckling.) We shouldn't have been able to begin +fighting if these foreigners hadn't shewn us how to do it: we +knew nothing about it; and neither did the Servians. Egad, +there'd have been no war without them. + +RAINA. Are there many Swiss officers in the Servian Army? + +PETKOFF. No--all Austrians, just as our officers were all +Russians. This was the only Swiss I came across. I'll never +trust a Swiss again. He cheated us--humbugged us into giving +him fifty able bodied men for two hundred confounded worn out +chargers. They weren't even eatable! + +SERGIUS. We were two children in the hands of that consummate +soldier, Major: simply two innocent little children. + +RAINA. What was he like? + +CATHERINE. Oh, Raina, what a silly question! + +SERGIUS. He was like a commercial traveller in uniform. +Bourgeois to his boots. + +PETKOFF (grinning). Sergius: tell Catherine that queer story +his friend told us about him--how he escaped after Slivnitza. +You remember?--about his being hid by two women. + +SERGIUS (with bitter irony). Oh, yes, quite a romance. He was +serving in the very battery I so unprofessionally charged. Being +a thorough soldier, he ran away like the rest of them, with our +cavalry at his heels. To escape their attentions, he had the +good taste to take refuge in the chamber of some patriotic young +Bulgarian lady. The young lady was enchanted by his persuasive +commercial traveller's manners. She very modestly entertained +him for an hour or so and then called in her mother lest her +conduct should appear unmaidenly. The old lady was equally +fascinated; and the fugitive was sent on his way in the morning, +disguised in an old coat belonging to the master of the house, +who was away at the war. + +RAINA (rising with marked stateliness). Your life in the camp +has made you coarse, Sergius. I did not think you would have +repeated such a story before me. (She turns away coldly.) + +CATHERINE (also rising). She is right, Sergius. If such women +exist, we should be spared the knowledge of them. + +PETKOFF. Pooh! nonsense! what does it matter? + +SERGIUS (ashamed). No, Petkoff: I was wrong. (To Raina, with +earnest humility.) I beg your pardon. I have behaved abominably. +Forgive me, Raina. (She bows reservedly.) And you, too, madam. +(Catherine bows graciously and sits down. He proceeds solemnly, +again addressing Raina.) The glimpses I have had of the seamy +side of life during the last few months have made me cynical; +but I should not have brought my cynicism here--least of all +into your presence, Raina. I--(Here, turning to the others, he +is evidently about to begin a long speech when the Major +interrupts him.) + +PETKOFF. Stuff and nonsense, Sergius. That's quite enough fuss +about nothing: a soldier's daughter should be able to stand up +without flinching to a little strong conversation. (He rises.) +Come: it's time for us to get to business. We have to make up +our minds how those three regiments are to get back to +Phillipopolis:--there's no forage for them on the Sofia route. +(He goes towards the house.) Come along. (Sergius is about to +follow him when Catherine rises and intervenes.) + +CATHERINE. Oh, Paul, can't you spare Sergius for a few moments? +Raina has hardly seen him yet. Perhaps I can help you to settle +about the regiments. + +SERGIUS (protesting). My dear madam, impossible: you-- + +CATHERINE (stopping him playfully). You stay here, my dear +Sergius: there's no hurry. I have a word or two to say to Paul. +(Sergius instantly bows and steps back.) Now, dear (taking +Petkoff's arm), come and see the electric bell. + +PETKOFF. Oh, very well, very well. (They go into the house +together affectionately. Sergius, left alone with Raina, looks +anxiously at her, fearing that she may be still offended. She +smiles, and stretches out her arms to him.) + + (Exit R. into house, followed by Catherine.) + +SERGIUS (hastening to her, but refraining from touching her +without express permission). Am I forgiven? + +RAINA (placing her hands on his shoulder as she looks up at him +with admiration and worship). My hero! My king. + +SERGIUS. My queen! (He kisses her on the forehead with holy +awe.) + +RAINA. How I have envied you, Sergius! You have been out in the +world, on the field of battle, able to prove yourself there +worthy of any woman in the world; whilst I have had to sit at +home inactive,--dreaming--useless--doing nothing that could +give me the right to call myself worthy of any man. + +SERGIUS. Dearest, all my deeds have been yours. You inspired me. +I have gone through the war like a knight in a tournament with +his lady looking on at him! + +RAINA. And you have never been absent from my thoughts for a +moment. (Very solemnly.) Sergius: I think we two have found the +higher love. When I think of you, I feel that I could never do a +base deed, or think an ignoble thought. + +SERGIUS. My lady, and my saint! (Clasping her reverently.) + +RAINA (returning his embrace). My lord and my g-- + +SERGIUS. Sh--sh! Let me be the worshipper, dear. You little know +how unworthy even the best man is of a girl's pure passion! + +RAINA. I trust you. I love you. You will never disappoint me, +Sergius. (Louka is heard singing within the house. They quickly +release each other.) Hush! I can't pretend to talk indifferently +before her: my heart is too full. (Louka comes from the house +with her tray. She goes to the table, and begins to clear it, +with her back turned to them.) I will go and get my hat; and +then we can go out until lunch time. Wouldn't you like that? + +SERGIUS. Be quick. If you are away five minutes, it will seem +five hours. (Raina runs to the top of the steps and turns there +to exchange a look with him and wave him a kiss with both hands. +He looks after her with emotion for a moment, then turns slowly +away, his face radiant with the exultation of the scene which +has just passed. The movement shifts his field of vision, into +the corner of which there now comes the tail of Louka's double +apron. His eye gleams at once. He takes a stealthy look at her, +and begins to twirl his moustache nervously, with his left hand +akimbo on his hip. Finally, striking the ground with his heels +in something of a cavalry swagger, he strolls over to the left +of the table, opposite her, and says) Louka: do you know what +the higher love is? + +LOUKA (astonished). No, sir. + +SERGIUS. Very fatiguing thing to keep up for any length of time, +Louka. One feels the need of some relief after it. + +LOUKA (innocently). Perhaps you would like some coffee, sir? +(She stretches her hand across the table for the coffee pot.) + +SERGIUS (taking her hand). Thank you, Louka. + +LOUKA (pretending to pull). Oh, sir, you know I didn't mean +that. I'm surprised at you! + +SERGIUS (coming clear of the table and drawing her with him). I +am surprised at myself, Louka. What would Sergius, the hero of +Slivnitza, say if he saw me now? What would Sergius, the apostle +of the higher love, say if he saw me now? What would the half +dozen Sergiuses who keep popping in and out of this handsome +figure of mine say if they caught us here? (Letting go her hand +and slipping his arm dexterously round her waist.) Do you +consider my figure handsome, Louka? + +LOUKA. Let me go, sir. I shall be disgraced. (She struggles: he +holds her inexorably.) Oh, will you let go? + +SERGIUS (looking straight into her eyes). No. + +LOUKA. Then stand back where we can't be seen. Have you no +common sense? + +SERGIUS. Ah, that's reasonable. (He takes her into the +stableyard gateway, where they are hidden from the house.) + +LOUKA (complaining). I may have been seen from the windows: +Miss Raina is sure to be spying about after you. + +SERGIUS (stung--letting her go). Take care, Louka. I may be +worthless enough to betray the higher love; but do not you +insult it. + +LOUKA (demurely). Not for the world, sir, I'm sure. May I go on +with my work please, now? + +SERGIUS (again putting his arm round her). You are a provoking +little witch, Louka. If you were in love with me, would you spy +out of windows on me? + +LOUKA. Well, you see, sir, since you say you are half a dozen +different gentlemen all at once, I should have a great deal to +look after. + +SERGIUS (charmed). Witty as well as pretty. (He tries to kiss +her.) + +LOUKA (avoiding him). No, I don't want your kisses. Gentlefolk +are all alike--you making love to me behind Miss Raina's back, +and she doing the same behind yours. + +SERGIUS (recoiling a step). Louka! + +LOUKA. It shews how little you really care! + +SERGIUS (dropping his familiarity and speaking with freezing +politeness). If our conversation is to continue, Louka, you will +please remember that a gentleman does not discuss the conduct of +the lady he is engaged to with her maid. + +LOUKA. It's so hard to know what a gentleman considers right. I +thought from your trying to kiss me that you had given up being +so particular. + +SERGIUS (turning from her and striking his forehead as he comes +back into the garden from the gateway). Devil! devil! + +LOUKA. Ha! ha! I expect one of the six of you is very like me, +sir, though I am only Miss Raina's maid. (She goes back to her +work at the table, taking no further notice of him.) + +SERGIUS (speaking to himself). Which of the six is the real +man?--that's the question that torments me. One of them is a +hero, another a buffoon, another a humbug, another perhaps a +bit of a blackguard. (He pauses and looks furtively at Louka, as +he adds with deep bitterness) And one, at least, is a +coward--jealous, like all cowards. (He goes to the table.) +Louka. + +LOUKA. Yes? + +SERGIUS. Who is my rival? + +LOUKA. You shall never get that out of me, for love or money. + +SERGIUS. Why? + +LOUKA. Never mind why. Besides, you would tell that I told you; +and I should lose my place. + +SERGIUS (holding out his right hand in affirmation). No; on the +honor of a--(He checks himself, and his hand drops nerveless as +he concludes, sardonically)--of a man capable of behaving as I +have been behaving for the last five minutes. Who is he? + +LOUKA. I don't know. I never saw him. I only heard his voice +through the door of her room. + +SERGIUS. Damnation! How dare you? + +LOUKA (retreating). Oh, I mean no harm: you've no right to take +up my words like that. The mistress knows all about it. And I +tell you that if that gentleman ever comes here again, Miss +Raina will marry him, whether he likes it or not. I know the +difference between the sort of manner you and she put on before +one another and the real manner. (Sergius shivers as if she had +stabbed him. Then, setting his face like iron, he strides grimly +to her, and grips her above the elbows with both bands.) + +SERGIUS. Now listen you to me! + +LOUKA (wincing). Not so tight: you're hurting me! + +SERGIUS. That doesn't matter. You have stained my honor by +making me a party to your eavesdropping. And you have betrayed +your mistress-- + +LOUKA (writhing). Please-- + +SERGIUS. That shews that you are an abominable little clod of +common clay, with the soul of a servant. (He lets her go as if +she were an unclean thing, and turns away, dusting his hands of +her, to the bench by the wall, where he sits down with averted +head, meditating gloomily.) + +LOUKA (whimpering angrily with her hands up her sleeves, +feeling her bruised arms). You know how to hurt with your tongue +as well as with your hands. But I don't care, now I've found out +that whatever clay I'm made of, you're made of the same. As for +her, she's a liar; and her fine airs are a cheat; and I'm worth +six of her. (She shakes the pain off hardily; tosses her head; +and sets to work to put the things on the tray. He looks +doubtfully at her once or twice. She finishes packing the tray, +and laps the cloth over the edges, so as to carry all out +together. As she stoops to lift it, he rises.) + +SERGIUS. Louka! (She stops and looks defiantly at him with the +tray in her hands.) A gentleman has no right to hurt a woman +under any circumstances. (With profound humility, uncovering his +head.) I beg your pardon. + +LOUKA. That sort of apology may satisfy a lady. Of what use is +it to a servant? + +SERGIUS (thus rudely crossed in his chivalry, throws it off +with a bitter laugh and says slightingly). Oh, you wish to be +paid for the hurt? (He puts on his shako, and takes some money +from his pocket.) + +LOUKA (her eyes filling with tears in spite of herself). No, I +want my hurt made well. + +SERGIUS (sobered by her tone). How? + + (She rolls up her left sleeve; clasps her arm with + the thumb and fingers of her right hand; and looks + down at the bruise. Then she raises her head and + looks straight at him. Finally, with a superb + gesture she presents her arm to be kissed. Amazed, + he looks at her; at the arm; at her again; + hesitates; and then, with shuddering intensity, + exclaims) + +SERGIUS. Never! (and gets away as far as possible from her.) + + (Her arm drops. Without a word, and with unaffected + dignity, she takes her tray, and is approaching + the house when Raina returns wearing a hat and + jacket in the height of the Vienna fashion of the + previous year, 1885. Louka makes way proudly for + her, and then goes into the house.) + +RAINA. I'm ready! What's the matter? (Gaily.) Have you been +flirting with Louka? + +SERGIUS (hastily). No, no. How can you think such a thing? + +RAINA (ashamed of herself). Forgive me, dear: it was only a +jest. I am so happy to-day. + + (He goes quickly to her, and kisses her hand + remorsefully. Catherine comes out and calls + to them from the top of the steps.) + +CATHERINE (coming down to them). I am sorry to disturb you, +children; but Paul is distracted over those three regiments. He +does not know how to get them to Phillipopolis; and he objects +to every suggestion of mine. You must go and help him, Sergius. +He is in the library. + +RAINA (disappointed). But we are just going out for a walk. + +SERGIUS. I shall not be long. Wait for me just five minutes. (He +runs up the steps to the door.) + +RAINA (following him to the foot of the steps and looking up at +him with timid coquetry). I shall go round and wait in full view +of the library windows. Be sure you draw father's attention to +me. If you are a moment longer than five minutes, I shall go in +and fetch you, regiments or no regiments. + +SERGIUS (laughing). Very well. (He goes in. Raina watches him +until he is out of her sight. Then, with a perceptible +relaxation of manner, she begins to pace up and down about the +garden in a brown study.) + +CATHERINE. Imagine their meeting that Swiss and hearing the +whole story! The very first thing your father asked for was the +old coat we sent him off in. A nice mess you have got us into! + +RAINA (gazing thoughtfully at the gravel as she walks). The +little beast! + +CATHERINE. Little beast! What little beast? + +RAINA. To go and tell! Oh, if I had him here, I'd stuff him with +chocolate creams till he couldn't ever speak again! + +CATHERINE. Don't talk nonsense. Tell me the truth, Raina. How +long was he in your room before you came to me? + +RAINA (whisking round and recommencing her march in the +opposite direction). Oh, I forget. + +CATHERINE. You cannot forget! Did he really climb up after the +soldiers were gone, or was he there when that officer searched +the room? + +RAINA. No. Yes, I think he must have been there then. + +CATHERINE. You think! Oh, Raina, Raina! Will anything ever make +you straightforward? If Sergius finds out, it is all over +between you. + +RAINA (with cool impertinence). Oh, I know Sergius is your pet. +I sometimes wish you could marry him instead of me. You would +just suit him. You would pet him, and spoil him, and mother him +to perfection. + +CATHERINE (opening her eyes very widely indeed). Well, upon my +word! + +RAINA (capriciously--half to herself). I always feel a longing +to do or say something dreadful to him--to shock his +propriety--to scandalize the five senses out of him! (To +Catherine perversely.) I don't care whether he finds out about +the chocolate cream soldier or not. I half hope he may. (She +again turns flippantly away and strolls up the path to the +corner of the house.) + +CATHERINE. And what should I be able to say to your father, +pray? + +RAINA (over her shoulder, from the top of the two steps). Oh, +poor father! As if he could help himself! (She turns the corner +and passes out of sight.) + +CATHERINE (looking after her, her fingers itching). Oh, if you +were only ten years younger! (Louka comes from the house with a +salver, which she carries hanging down by her side.) Well? + +LOUKA. There's a gentleman just called, madam--a Servian +officer-- + +CATHERINE (flaming). A Servian! How dare he--(Checking herself +bitterly.) Oh, I forgot. We are at peace now. I suppose we shall +have them calling every day to pay their compliments. Well, if +he is an officer why don't you tell your master? He is in the +library with Major Saranoff. Why do you come to me? + +LOUKA. But he asks for you, madam. And I don't think he knows +who you are: he said the lady of the house. He gave me this +little ticket for you. (She takes a card out of her bosom; puts +it on the salver and offers it to Catherine.) + +CATHERINE (reading). "Captain Bluntschli!" That's a German +name. + +LOUKA. Swiss, madam, I think. + +CATHERINE (with a bound that makes Louka jump back). Swiss! +What is he like? + +LOUKA (timidly). He has a big carpet bag, madam. + +CATHERINE. Oh, Heavens, he's come to return the coat! Send him +away--say we're not at home--ask him to leave his address and +I'll write to him--Oh, stop: that will never do. Wait! (She +throws herself into a chair to think it out. Louka waits.) The +master and Major Saranoff are busy in the library, aren't they? + +LOUKA. Yes, madam. + +CATHERINE (decisively). Bring the gentleman out here at once. +(Imperatively.) And be very polite to him. Don't delay. Here +(impatiently snatching the salver from her): leave that here; +and go straight back to him. + +LOUKA. Yes, madam. (Going.) + +CATHERINE. Louka! + +LOUKA (stopping). Yes, madam. + +CATHERINE. Is the library door shut? + +LOUKA. I think so, madam. + +CATHERINE. If not, shut it as you pass through. + +LOUKA. Yes, madam. (Going.) + +CATHERINE. Stop! (Louka stops.) He will have to go out that way +(indicating the gate of the stable yard). Tell Nicola to bring +his bag here after him. Don't forget. + +LOUKA (surprised). His bag? + +CATHERINE. Yes, here, as soon as possible. (Vehemently.) Be +quick! (Louka runs into the house. Catherine snatches her apron +off and throws it behind a bush. She then takes up the salver +and uses it as a mirror, with the result that the handkerchief +tied round her head follows the apron. A touch to her hair and a +shake to her dressing gown makes her presentable.) Oh, +how--how--how can a man be such a fool! Such a moment to select! +(Louka appears at the door of the house, announcing "Captain +Bluntschli;" and standing aside at the top of the steps to let +him pass before she goes in again. He is the man of the +adventure in Raina's room. He is now clean, well brushed, +smartly uniformed, and out of trouble, but still unmistakably +the same man. The moment Louka's back is turned, Catherine +swoops on him with hurried, urgent, coaxing appeal.) Captain +Bluntschli, I am very glad to see you; but you must leave this +house at once. (He raises his eyebrows.) My husband has just +returned, with my future son-in-law; and they know nothing. If +they did, the consequences would be terrible. You are a +foreigner: you do not feel our national animosities as we do. We +still hate the Servians: the only effect of the peace on my +husband is to make him feel like a lion baulked of his prey. If +he discovered our secret, he would never forgive me; and my +daughter's life would hardly be safe. Will you, like the +chivalrous gentleman and soldier you are, leave at once before +he finds you here? + +BLUNTSCHLI (disappointed, but philosophical). At once, gracious +lady. I only came to thank you and return the coat you lent me. +If you will allow me to take it out of my bag and leave it with +your servant as I pass out, I need detain you no further. (He +turns to go into the house.) + +CATHERINE (catching him by the sleeve). Oh, you must not think +of going back that way. (Coaxing him across to the stable +gates.) This is the shortest way out. Many thanks. So glad to +have been of service to you. Good-bye. + +BLUNTSCHLI. But my bag? + +CATHERINE. It will be sent on. You will leave me your address. + +BLUNTSCHLI. True. Allow me. (He takes out his card-case, and +stops to write his address, keeping Catherine in an agony of +impatience. As he hands her the card, Petkoff, hatless, rushes +from the house in a fluster of hospitality, followed by +Sergius.) + +PETKOFF (as he hurries down the steps). My dear Captain +Bluntschli-- + +CATHERINE. Oh Heavens! (She sinks on the seat against the wall.) + +PETKOFF (too preoccupied to notice her as he shakes +Bluntschli's hand heartily). Those stupid people of mine thought +I was out here, instead of in the--haw!--library. (He cannot +mention the library without betraying how proud he is of it.) I +saw you through the window. I was wondering why you didn't come +in. Saranoff is with me: you remember him, don't you? + +SERGIUS (saluting humorously, and then offering his hand with +great charm of manner). Welcome, our friend the enemy! + +PETKOFF. No longer the enemy, happily. (Rather anxiously.) I +hope you've come as a friend, and not on business. + +CATHERINE. Oh, quite as a friend, Paul. I was just asking +Captain Bluntschli to stay to lunch; but he declares he must go +at once. + +SERGIUS (sardonically). Impossible, Bluntschli. We want you +here badly. We have to send on three cavalry regiments to +Phillipopolis; and we don't in the least know how to do it. + +BLUNTSCHLI (suddenly attentive and business-like). +Phillipopolis! The forage is the trouble, eh? + +PETKOFF (eagerly). Yes, that's it. (To Sergius.) He sees the +whole thing at once. + +BLUNTSCHLI. I think I can shew you how to manage that. + +SERGIUS. Invaluable man! Come along! (Towering over Bluntschli, +he puts his hand on his shoulder and takes him to the steps, +Petkoff following. As Bluntschli puts his foot on the first +step, Raina comes out of the house.) + +RAINA (completely losing her presence of mind). Oh, the +chocolate cream soldier! + + (Bluntschli stands rigid. Sergius, amazed, looks + at Raina, then at Petkoff, who looks back at him + and then at his wife.) + +CATHERINE (with commanding presence of mind). My dear Raina, +don't you see that we have a guest here--Captain Bluntschli, one +of our new Servian friends? + + (Raina bows; Bluntschli bows.) + +RAINA. How silly of me! (She comes down into the centre of the +group, between Bluntschli and Petkoff) I made a beautiful +ornament this morning for the ice pudding; and that stupid +Nicola has just put down a pile of plates on it and spoiled it. +(To Bluntschli, winningly.) I hope you didn't think that you +were the chocolate cream soldier, Captain Bluntschli. + +BLUNTSCHLI (laughing). I assure you I did. (Stealing a +whimsical glance at her.) Your explanation was a relief. + +PETKOFF (suspiciously, to Raina). And since when, pray, have +you taken to cooking? + +CATHERINE. Oh, whilst you were away. It is her latest fancy. + +PETKOFF (testily). And has Nicola taken to drinking? He used to +be careful enough. First he shews Captain Bluntschli out here +when he knew quite well I was in the--hum!--library; and then +he goes downstairs and breaks Raina's chocolate soldier. He +must--(At this moment Nicola appears at the top of the steps R., +with a carpet bag. He descends; places it respectfully before +Bluntschli; and waits for further orders. General amazement. +Nicola, unconscious of the effect he is producing, looks +perfectly satisfied with himself. When Petkoff recovers his +power of speech, he breaks out at him with) Are you mad, Nicola? + +NICOLA (taken aback). Sir? + +PETKOFF. What have you brought that for? + +NICOLA. My lady's orders, sir. Louka told me that-- + +CATHERINE (interrupting him). My orders! Why should I order you +to bring Captain Bluntschli's luggage out here? What are you +thinking of, Nicola? + +NICOLA (after a moment's bewilderment, picking up the bag as he +addresses Bluntschli with the very perfection of servile +discretion). I beg your pardon, sir, I am sure. (To Catherine.) +My fault, madam! I hope you'll overlook it! (He bows, and is +going to the steps with the bag, when Petkoff addresses him +angrily.) + +PETKOFF. You'd better go and slam that bag, too, down on Miss +Raina's ice pudding! (This is too much for Nicola. The bag drops +from his hands on Petkoff's corns, eliciting a roar of anguish +from him.) Begone, you butter-fingered donkey. + +NICOLA (snatching up the bag, and escaping into the house). +Yes, sir. + +CATHERINE. Oh, never mind, Paul, don't be angry! + +PETKOFF (muttering). Scoundrel. He's got out of hand while I +was away. I'll teach him. (Recollecting his guest.) Oh, well, +never mind. Come, Bluntschli, lets have no more nonsense about +you having to go away. You know very well you're not going back +to Switzerland yet. Until you do go back you'll stay with us. + +RAINA. Oh, do, Captain Bluntschli. + +PETKOFF (to Catherine). Now, Catherine, it's of you that he's +afraid. Press him and he'll stay. + +CATHERINE. Of course I shall be only too delighted if +(appealingly) Captain Bluntschli really wishes to stay. He knows +my wishes. + +BLUNTSCHLI (in his driest military manner). I am at madame's +orders. + +SERGIUS (cordially). That settles it! + +PETKOFF (heartily). Of course! + +RAINA. You see, you must stay! + +BLUNTSCHLI (smiling). Well, If I must, I must! +(Gesture of despair from Catherine.) + + + + +ACT III + + In the library after lunch. It is not much of a + library, its literary equipment consisting of a + single fixed shelf stocked with old paper-covered + novels, broken backed, coffee stained, torn and + thumbed, and a couple of little hanging shelves + with a few gift books on them, the rest of the + wall space being occupied by trophies of war and + the chase. But it is a most comfortable + sitting-room. A row of three large windows in the + front of the house shew a mountain panorama, which + is just now seen in one of its softest aspects in + the mellowing afternoon light. In the left hand + corner, a square earthenware stove, a perfect + tower of colored pottery, rises nearly to the + ceiling and guarantees plenty of warmth. The + ottoman in the middle is a circular bank of + decorated cushions, and the window seats are well + upholstered divans. Little Turkish tables, one of + them with an elaborate hookah on it, and a screen + to match them, complete the handsome effect of the + furnishing. There is one object, however, which is + hopelessly out of keeping with its surroundings. + This is a small kitchen table, much the worse for + wear, fitted as a writing table with an old + canister full of pens, an eggcup filled with ink, + and a deplorable scrap of severely used pink + blotting paper. + + At the side of this table, which stands on the + right, Bluntschli is hard at work, with a couple + of maps before him, writing orders. At the head of + it sits Sergius, who is also supposed to be at + work, but who is actually gnawing the feather of a + pen, and contemplating Bluntschli's quick, sure, + businesslike progress with a mixture of envious + irritation at his own incapacity, and awestruck + wonder at an ability which seems to him almost + miraculous, though its prosaic character forbids + him to esteem it. The major is comfortably + established on the ottoman, with a newspaper in + his hand and the tube of the hookah within his + reach. Catherine sits at the stove, with her back + to them, embroidering. Raina, reclining on the + divan under the left hand window, is gazing in a + daydream out at the Balkan landscape, with a + neglected novel in her lap. + + The door is on the left. The button of the + electric bell is between the door and the + fireplace. + +PETKOFF (looking up from his paper to watch how they are +getting on at the table). Are you sure I can't help you in any +way, Bluntschli? + +BLUNTSCHLI (without interrupting his writing or looking up). +Quite sure, thank you. Saranoff and I will manage it. + +SERGIUS (grimly). Yes: we'll manage it. He finds out what to +do; draws up the orders; and I sign 'em. Division of labour, +Major. (Bluntschli passes him a paper.) Another one? Thank you. +(He plants the papers squarely before him; sets his chair +carefully parallel to them; and signs with the air of a man +resolutely performing a difficult and dangerous feat.) This hand +is more accustomed to the sword than to the pen. + +PETKOFF. It's very good of you, Bluntschli, it is indeed, to let +yourself be put upon in this way. Now are you quite sure I can +do nothing? + +CATHERINE (in a low, warning tone). You can stop interrupting, +Paul. + +PETKOFF (starting and looking round at her). Eh? Oh! Quite +right, my love, quite right. (He takes his newspaper up, but +lets it drop again.) Ah, you haven't been campaigning, +Catherine: you don't know how pleasant it is for us to sit here, +after a good lunch, with nothing to do but enjoy ourselves. +There's only one thing I want to make me thoroughly comfortable. + +CATHERINE. What is that? + +PETKOFF. My old coat. I'm not at home in this one: I feel as if +I were on parade. + +CATHERINE. My dear Paul, how absurd you are about that old coat! +It must be hanging in the blue closet where you left it. + +PETKOFF. My dear Catherine, I tell you I've looked there. Am I +to believe my own eyes or not? (Catherine quietly rises and +presses the button of the electric bell by the fireplace.) What +are you shewing off that bell for? (She looks at him majestically, +and silently resumes her chair and her needlework.) My dear: if +you think the obstinacy of your sex can make a coat out of two +old dressing gowns of Raina's, your waterproof, and my +mackintosh, you're mistaken. That's exactly what the blue closet +contains at present. (Nicola presents himself.) + +CATHERINE (unmoved by Petkoff's sally). Nicola: go to the blue +closet and bring your master's old coat here--the braided one he +usually wears in the house. + +NICOLA. Yes, madam. (Nicola goes out.) + +PETKOFF. Catherine. + +CATHERINE. Yes, Paul? + +PETKOFF. I bet you any piece of jewellery you like to order from +Sofia against a week's housekeeping money, that the coat isn't +there. + +CATHERINE. Done, Paul. + +PETKOFF (excited by the prospect of a gamble). Come: here's an +opportunity for some sport. Who'll bet on it? Bluntschli: I'll +give you six to one. + +BLUNTSCHLI (imperturbably). It would be robbing you, Major. +Madame is sure to be right. (Without looking up, he passes +another batch of papers to Sergius.) + +SERGIUS (also excited). Bravo, Switzerland! Major: I bet my +best charger against an Arab mare for Raina that Nicola finds +the coat in the blue closet. + +PETKOFF (eagerly). Your best char-- + +CATHERINE (hastily interrupting him). Don't be foolish, Paul. +An Arabian mare will cost you 50,000 levas. + +RAINA (suddenly coming out of her picturesque revery). Really, +mother, if you are going to take the jewellery, I don't see why +you should grudge me my Arab. + + (Nicola comes back with the coat and brings it + to Petkoff, who can hardly believe his eyes.) + +CATHERINE. Where was it, Nicola? + +NICOLA. Hanging in the blue closet, madam. + +PETKOFF. Well, I am d-- + +CATHERINE (stopping him). Paul! + +PETKOFF. I could have sworn it wasn't there. Age is beginning to +tell on me. I'm getting hallucinations. (To Nicola.) Here: help +me to change. Excuse me, Bluntschli. (He begins changing coats, +Nicola acting as valet.) Remember: I didn't take that bet of +yours, Sergius. You'd better give Raina that Arab steed +yourself, since you've roused her expectations. Eh, Raina? (He +looks round at her; but she is again rapt in the landscape. With +a little gush of paternal affection and pride, he points her out +to them and says) She's dreaming, as usual. + +SERGIUS. Assuredly she shall not be the loser. + +PETKOFF. So much the better for her. I shan't come off so cheap, +I expect. (The change is now complete. Nicola goes out with the +discarded coat.) Ah, now I feel at home at last. (He sits down +and takes his newspaper with a grunt of relief.) + +BLUNTSCHLI (to Sergius, handing a paper). That's the last +order. + +PETKOFF (jumping up). What! finished? + +BLUNTSCHLI. Finished. (Petkoff goes beside Sergius; looks +curiously over his left shoulder as he signs; and says with +childlike envy) Haven't you anything for me to sign? + +BLUNTSCHLI. Not necessary. His signature will do. + +PETKOFF. Ah, well, I think we've done a thundering good day's +work. (He goes away from the table.) Can I do anything more? + +BLUNTSCHLI. You had better both see the fellows that are to take +these. (To Sergius.) Pack them off at once; and shew them that +I've marked on the orders the time they should hand them in by. +Tell them that if they stop to drink or tell stories--if they're +five minutes late, they'll have the skin taken off their backs. + +SERGIUS (rising indignantly). I'll say so. And if one of them +is man enough to spit in my face for insulting him, I'll buy his +discharge and give him a pension. (He strides out, his humanity +deeply outraged.) + +BLUNTSCHLI (confidentially). Just see that he talks to them +properly, Major, will you? + +PETKOFF (officiously). Quite right, Bluntschli, quite right. +I'll see to it. (He goes to the door importantly, but hesitates +on the threshold.) By the bye, Catherine, you may as well come, +too. They'll be far more frightened of you than of me. + +CATHERINE (putting down her embroidery). I daresay I had +better. You will only splutter at them. (She goes out, Petkoff +holding the door for her and following her.) + +BLUNTSCHLI. What a country! They make cannons out of cherry +trees; and the officers send for their wives to keep discipline! +(He begins to fold and docket the papers. Raina, who has risen +from the divan, strolls down the room with her hands clasped +behind her, and looks mischievously at him.) + +RAINA. You look ever so much nicer than when we last met. (He +looks up, surprised.) What have you done to yourself? + +BLUNTSCHLI. Washed; brushed; good night's sleep and breakfast. +That's all. + +RAINA. Did you get back safely that morning? + +BLUNTSCHLI. Quite, thanks. + +RAINA. Were they angry with you for running away from Sergius's +charge? + +BLUNTSCHLI. No, they were glad; because they'd all just run away +themselves. + +RAINA (going to the table, and leaning over it towards him). It +must have made a lovely story for them--all that about me and my +room. + +BLUNTSCHLI. Capital story. But I only told it to one of them--a +particular friend. + +RAINA. On whose discretion you could absolutely rely? + +BLUNTSCHLI. Absolutely. + +RAINA. Hm! He told it all to my father and Sergius the day you +exchanged the prisoners. (She turns away and strolls carelessly +across to the other side of the room.) + +BLUNTSCHLI (deeply concerned and half incredulous). No! you +don't mean that, do you? + +RAINA (turning, with sudden earnestness). I do indeed. But they +don't know that it was in this house that you hid. If Sergius +knew, he would challenge you and kill you in a duel. + +BLUNTSCHLI. Bless me! then don't tell him. + +RAINA (full of reproach for his levity). Can you realize what +it is to me to deceive him? I want to be quite perfect with +Sergius--no meanness, no smallness, no deceit. My relation to +him is the one really beautiful and noble part of my life. I +hope you can understand that. + +BLUNTSCHLI (sceptically). You mean that you wouldn't like him +to find out that the story about the ice pudding was +a--a--a--You know. + +RAINA (wincing). Ah, don't talk of it in that flippant way. I +lied: I know it. But I did it to save your life. He would have +killed you. That was the second time I ever uttered a falsehood. +(Bluntschli rises quickly and looks doubtfully and somewhat +severely at her.) Do you remember the first time? + +BLUNTSCHLI. I! No. Was I present? + +RAINA. Yes; and I told the officer who was searching for you +that you were not present. + +BLUNTSCHLI. True. I should have remembered it. + +RAINA (greatly encouraged). Ah, it is natural that you should +forget it first. It cost you nothing: it cost me a lie!--a lie!! +(She sits down on the ottoman, looking straight before her with +her hands clasped on her knee. Bluntschli, quite touched, goes +to the ottoman with a particularly reassuring and considerate +air, and sits down beside her.) + +BLUNTSCHLI. My dear young lady, don't let this worry you. +Remember: I'm a soldier. Now what are the two things that happen +to a soldier so often that he comes to think nothing of them? +One is hearing people tell lies (Raina recoils): the other is +getting his life saved in all sorts of ways by all sorts of +people. + +RAINA (rising in indignant protest). And so he becomes a +creature incapable of faith and of gratitude. + +BLUNTSCHLI (making a wry face). Do you like gratitude? I don't. +If pity is akin to love, gratitude is akin to the other thing. + +RAINA. Gratitude! (Turning on him.) If you are incapable of +gratitude you are incapable of any noble sentiment. Even animals +are grateful. Oh, I see now exactly what you think of me! You +were not surprised to hear me lie. To you it was something I +probably did every day--every hour. That is how men think of +women. (She walks up the room melodramatically.) + +BLUNTSCHLI (dubiously). There's reason in everything. You said +you'd told only two lies in your whole life. Dear young lady: +isn't that rather a short allowance? I'm quite a straightforward +man myself; but it wouldn't last me a whole morning. + +RAINA (staring haughtily at him). Do you know, sir, that you +are insulting me? + +BLUNTSCHLI. I can't help it. When you get into that noble +attitude and speak in that thrilling voice, I admire you; but I +find it impossible to believe a single word you say. + +RAINA (superbly). Captain Bluntschli! + +BLUNTSCHLI (unmoved). Yes? + +RAINA (coming a little towards him, as if she could not believe +her senses). Do you mean what you said just now? Do you know +what you said just now? + +BLUNTSCHLI. I do. + +RAINA (gasping). I! I!!! (She points to herself incredulously, +meaning "I, Raina Petkoff, tell lies!" He meets her gaze +unflinchingly. She suddenly sits down beside him, and adds, with +a complete change of manner from the heroic to the familiar) How +did you find me out? + +BLUNTSCHLI (promptly). Instinct, dear young lady. Instinct, and +experience of the world. + +RAINA (wonderingly). Do you know, you are the first man I ever +met who did not take me seriously? + +BLUNTSCHLI. You mean, don't you, that I am the first man that +has ever taken you quite seriously? + +RAINA. Yes, I suppose I do mean that. (Cosily, quite at her ease +with him.) How strange it is to be talked to in such a way! You +know, I've always gone on like that--I mean the noble attitude +and the thrilling voice. I did it when I was a tiny child to my +nurse. She believed in it. I do it before my parents. They +believe in it. I do it before Sergius. He believes in it. + +BLUNTSCHLI. Yes: he's a little in that line himself, isn't he? + +RAINA (startled). Do you think so? + +BLUNTSCHLI. You know him better than I do. + +RAINA. I wonder--I wonder is he? If I thought that--! +(Discouraged.) Ah, well, what does it matter? I suppose, now +that you've found me out, you despise me. + +BLUNTSCHLI (warmly, rising). No, my dear young lady, no, no, no +a thousand times. It's part of your youth--part of your charm. +I'm like all the rest of them--the nurse--your +parents--Sergius: I'm your infatuated admirer. + +RAINA (pleased). Really? + +BLUNTSCHLI (slapping his breast smartly with his hand, German +fashion). Hand aufs Herz! Really and truly. + +RAINA (very happy). But what did you think of me for giving you +my portrait? + +BLUNTSCHLI (astonished). Your portrait! You never gave me your +portrait. + +RAINA (quickly). Do you mean to say you never got it? + +BLUNTSCHLI. No. (He sits down beside her, with renewed interest, +and says, with some complacency.) When did you send it to me? + +RAINA (indignantly). I did not send it to you. (She turns her +head away, and adds, reluctantly.) It was in the pocket of that +coat. + +BLUNTSCHLI (pursing his lips and rounding his eyes). Oh-o-oh! I +never found it. It must be there still. + +RAINA (springing up). There still!--for my father to find the +first time he puts his hand in his pocket! Oh, how could you be +so stupid? + +BLUNTSCHLI (rising also). It doesn't matter: it's only a +photograph: how can he tell who it was intended for? Tell him he +put it there himself. + +RAINA (impatiently). Yes, that is so clever--so clever! What +shall I do? + +BLUNTSCHLI. Ah, I see. You wrote something on it. That was rash! + +RAINA (annoyed almost to tears). Oh, to have done such a thing +for you, who care no more--except to laugh at me--oh! Are you +sure nobody has touched it? + +BLUNTSCHLI. Well, I can't be quite sure. You see I couldn't +carry it about with me all the time: one can't take much luggage +on active service. + +RAINA. What did you do with it? + +BLUNTSCHLI. When I got through to Peerot I had to put it in safe +keeping somehow. I thought of the railway cloak room; but that's +the surest place to get looted in modern warfare. So I pawned +it. + +RAINA. Pawned it!!! + +BLUNTSCHLI. I know it doesn't sound nice; but it was much the +safest plan. I redeemed it the day before yesterday. Heaven only +knows whether the pawnbroker cleared out the pockets or not. + +RAINA (furious--throwing the words right into his face). You +have a low, shopkeeping mind. You think of things that would +never come into a gentleman's head. + +BLUNTSCHLI (phlegmatically). That's the Swiss national +character, dear lady. + +RAINA. Oh, I wish I had never met you. (She flounces away and +sits at the window fuming.) + + (Louka comes in with a heap of letters and + telegrams on her salver, and crosses, with her + bold, free gait, to the table. Her left sleeve is + looped up to the shoulder with a brooch, shewing + her naked arm, with a broad gilt bracelet covering + the bruise.) + +LOUKA (to Bluntschli). For you. (She empties the salver +recklessly on the table.) The messenger is waiting. (She is +determined not to be civil to a Servian, even if she must bring +him his letters.) + +BLUNTSCHLI (to Raina). Will you excuse me: the last postal +delivery that reached me was three weeks ago. These are the +subsequent accumulations. Four telegrams--a week old. (He opens +one.) Oho! Bad news! + +RAINA (rising and advancing a little remorsefully). Bad news? + +BLUNTSCHLI. My father's dead. (He looks at the telegram with his +lips pursed, musing on the unexpected change in his +arrangements.) + +RAINA. Oh, how very sad! + +BLUNTSCHLI. Yes: I shall have to start for home in an hour. He +has left a lot of big hotels behind him to be looked after. +(Takes up a heavy letter in a long blue envelope.) Here's a +whacking letter from the family solicitor. (He pulls out the +enclosures and glances over them.) Great Heavens! Seventy! Two +hundred! (In a crescendo of dismay.) Four hundred! Four +thousand!! Nine thousand six hundred!!! What on earth shall I do +with them all? + +RAINA (timidly). Nine thousand hotels? + +BLUNTSCHLI. Hotels! Nonsense. If you only knew!--oh, it's too +ridiculous! Excuse me: I must give my fellow orders about +starting. (He leaves the room hastily, with the documents in his +hand.) + +LOUKA (tauntingly). He has not much heart, that Swiss, though +he is so fond of the Servians. He has not a word of grief for +his poor father. + +RAINA (bitterly). Grief!--a man who has been doing nothing but +killing people for years! What does he care? What does any +soldier care? (She goes to the door, evidently restraining her +tears with difficulty.) + +LOUKA. Major Saranoff has been fighting, too; and he has plenty +of heart left. (Raina, at the door, looks haughtily at her and +goes out.) Aha! I thought you wouldn't get much feeling out of +your soldier. (She is following Raina when Nicola enters with an +armful of logs for the fire.) + +NICOLA (grinning amorously at her). I've been trying all the +afternoon to get a minute alone with you, my girl. (His +countenance changes as he notices her arm.) Why, what fashion is +that of wearing your sleeve, child? + +LOUKA (proudly). My own fashion. + +NICOLA. Indeed! If the mistress catches you, she'll talk to you. +(He throws the logs down on the ottoman, and sits comfortably +beside them.) + +LOUKA. Is that any reason why you should take it on yourself to +talk to me? + +NICOLA. Come: don't be so contrary with me. I've some good news +for you. (He takes out some paper money. Louka, with an eager +gleam in her eyes, comes close to look at it.) See, a twenty +leva bill! Sergius gave me that out of pure swagger. A fool and +his money are soon parted. There's ten levas more. The Swiss +gave me that for backing up the mistress's and Raina's lies +about him. He's no fool, he isn't. You should have heard old +Catherine downstairs as polite as you please to me, telling me +not to mind the Major being a little impatient; for they knew +what a good servant I was--after making a fool and a liar of me +before them all! The twenty will go to our savings; and you +shall have the ten to spend if you'll only talk to me so as to +remind me I'm a human being. I get tired of being a servant +occasionally. + +LOUKA (scornfully). Yes: sell your manhood for thirty levas, +and buy me for ten! Keep your money. You were born to be a +servant. I was not. When you set up your shop you will only be +everybody's servant instead of somebody's servant. + +NICOLA (picking up his logs, and going to the stove). Ah, wait +till you see. We shall have our evenings to ourselves; and I +shall be master in my own house, I promise you. (He throws the +logs down and kneels at the stove.) + +LOUKA. You shall never be master in mine. (She sits down on +Sergius's chair.) + +NICOLA (turning, still on his knees, and squatting down rather +forlornly, on his calves, daunted by her implacable disdain). +You have a great ambition in you, Louka. Remember: if any luck +comes to you, it was I that made a woman of you. + +LOUKA. You! + +NICOLA (with dogged self-assertion). Yes, me. Who was it made +you give up wearing a couple of pounds of false black hair on +your head and reddening your lips and cheeks like any other +Bulgarian girl? I did. Who taught you to trim your nails, and +keep your hands clean, and be dainty about yourself, like a fine +Russian lady? Me! do you hear that? me! (She tosses her head +defiantly; and he rises, ill-humoredly, adding more coolly) I've +often thought that if Raina were out of the way, and you just a +little less of a fool and Sergius just a little more of one, you +might come to be one of my grandest customers, instead of only +being my wife and costing me money. + +LOUKA. I believe you would rather be my servant than my husband. +You would make more out of me. Oh, I know that soul of yours. + +NICOLA (going up close to her for greater emphasis). Never you +mind my soul; but just listen to my advice. If you want to be a +lady, your present behaviour to me won't do at all, unless when +we're alone. It's too sharp and impudent; and impudence is a +sort of familiarity: it shews affection for me. And don't you +try being high and mighty with me either. You're like all +country girls: you think it's genteel to treat a servant the way +I treat a stable-boy. That's only your ignorance; and don't you +forget it. And don't be so ready to defy everybody. Act as if +you expected to have your own way, not as if you expected to be +ordered about. The way to get on as a lady is the same as the +way to get on as a servant: you've got to know your place; +that's the secret of it. And you may depend on me to know my +place if you get promoted. Think over it, my girl. I'll stand by +you: one servant should always stand by another. + +LOUKA (rising impatiently). Oh, I must behave in my own way. +You take all the courage out of me with your cold-blooded +wisdom. Go and put those logs on the fire: that's the sort of +thing you understand. (Before Nicola can retort, Sergius comes +in. He checks himself a moment on seeing Louka; then goes to the +stove.) + +SERGIUS (to Nicola). I am not in the way of your work, I hope. + +NICOLA (in a smooth, elderly manner). Oh, no, sir, thank you +kindly. I was only speaking to this foolish girl about her habit +of running up here to the library whenever she gets a chance, to +look at the books. That's the worst of her education, sir: it +gives her habits above her station. (To Louka.) Make that table +tidy, Louka, for the Major. (He goes out sedately.) + + (Louka, without looking at Sergius, begins to + arrange the papers on the table. He crosses slowly + to her, and studies the arrangement of her sleeve + reflectively.) + +SERGIUS. Let me see: is there a mark there? (He turns up the +bracelet and sees the bruise made by his grasp. She stands +motionless, not looking at him: fascinated, but on her guard.) +Ffff! Does it hurt? + +LOUKA. Yes. + +SERGIUS. Shall I cure it? + +LOUKA (instantly withdrawing herself proudly, but still not +looking at him). No. You cannot cure it now. + +SERGIUS (masterfully). Quite sure? (He makes a movement as if +to take her in his arms.) + +LOUKA. Don't trifle with me, please. An officer should not +trifle with a servant. + +SERGIUS (touching the arm with a merciless stroke of his +forefinger). That was no trifle, Louka. + +LOUKA. No. (Looking at him for the first time.) Are you sorry? + +SERGIUS (with measured emphasis, folding his arms). I am never +sorry. + +LOUKA (wistfully). I wish I could believe a man could be so +unlike a woman as that. I wonder are you really a brave man? + +SERGIUS (unaffectedly, relaxing his attitude). Yes: I am a +brave man. My heart jumped like a woman's at the first shot; but +in the charge I found that I was brave. Yes: that at least is +real about me. + +LOUKA. Did you find in the charge that the men whose fathers are +poor like mine were any less brave than the men who are rich +like you? + +SERGIUS (with bitter levity.) Not a bit. They all slashed and +cursed and yelled like heroes. Psha! the courage to rage and +kill is cheap. I have an English bull terrier who has as much of +that sort of courage as the whole Bulgarian nation, and the +whole Russian nation at its back. But he lets my groom thrash +him, all the same. That's your soldier all over! No, Louka, your +poor men can cut throats; but they are afraid of their officers; +they put up with insults and blows; they stand by and see one +another punished like children---aye, and help to do it when +they are ordered. And the officers!---well (with a short, bitter +laugh) I am an officer. Oh, (fervently) give me the man who will +defy to the death any power on earth or in heaven that sets +itself up against his own will and conscience: he alone is the +brave man. + +LOUKA. How easy it is to talk! Men never seem to me to grow up: +they all have schoolboy's ideas. You don't know what true +courage is. + +SERGIUS (ironically). Indeed! I am willing to be instructed. + +LOUKA. Look at me! how much am I allowed to have my own will? I +have to get your room ready for you--to sweep and dust, to fetch +and carry. How could that degrade me if it did not degrade you +to have it done for you? But (with subdued passion) if I were +Empress of Russia, above everyone in the world, then--ah, then, +though according to you I could shew no courage at all; you +should see, you should see. + +SERGIUS. What would you do, most noble Empress? + +LOUKA. I would marry the man I loved, which no other queen in +Europe has the courage to do. If I loved you, though you would +be as far beneath me as I am beneath you, I would dare to be the +equal of my inferior. Would you dare as much if you loved me? +No: if you felt the beginnings of love for me you would not let +it grow. You dare not: you would marry a rich man's daughter +because you would be afraid of what other people would say of +you. + +SERGIUS (carried away). You lie: it is not so, by all the +stars! If I loved you, and I were the Czar himself, I would set +you on the throne by my side. You know that I love another +woman, a woman as high above you as heaven is above earth. And +you are jealous of her. + +LOUKA. I have no reason to be. She will never marry you now. The +man I told you of has come back. She will marry the Swiss. + +SERGIUS (recoiling). The Swiss! + +LOUKA. A man worth ten of you. Then you can come to me; and I +will refuse you. You are not good enough for me. (She turns to +the door.) + +SERGIUS (springing after her and catching her fiercely in his +arms). I will kill the Swiss; and afterwards I will do as I +please with you. + +LOUKA (in his arms, passive and steadfast). The Swiss will kill +you, perhaps. He has beaten you in love. He may beat you in war. + +SERGIUS (tormentedly). Do you think I believe that she--she! +whose worst thoughts are higher than your best ones, is capable +of trifling with another man behind my back? + +LOUKA. Do you think she would believe the Swiss if he told her +now that I am in your arms? + +SERGIUS (releasing her in despair). Damnation! Oh, damnation! +Mockery, mockery everywhere: everything I think is mocked by +everything I do. (He strikes himself frantically on the breast.) +Coward, liar, fool! Shall I kill myself like a man, or live and +pretend to laugh at myself? (She again turns to go.) Louka! (She +stops near the door.) Remember: you belong to me. + +LOUKA (quietly). What does that mean--an insult? + +SERGIUS (commandingly). It means that you love me, and that I +have had you here in my arms, and will perhaps have you there +again. Whether that is an insult I neither know nor care: take +it as you please. But (vehemently) I will not be a coward and a +trifler. If I choose to love you, I dare marry you, in spite of +all Bulgaria. If these hands ever touch you again, they shall +touch my affianced bride. + +LOUKA. We shall see whether you dare keep your word. But take +care. I will not wait long. + +SERGIUS (again folding his arms and standing motionless in the +middle of the room). Yes, we shall see. And you shall wait my +pleasure. + + (Bluntschli, much preoccupied, with his papers + still in his hand, enters, leaving the door open + for Louka to go out. He goes across to the table, + glancing at her as he passes. Sergius, without + altering his resolute attitude, watches him + steadily. Louka goes out, leaving the door open.) + +BLUNTSCHLI (absently, sitting at the table as before, and +putting down his papers). That's a remarkable looking young +woman. + +SERGIUS (gravely, without moving). Captain Bluntschli. + +BLUNTSCHLI. Eh? + +SERGIUS. You have deceived me. You are my rival. I brook no +rivals. At six o'clock I shall be in the drilling-ground on the +Klissoura road, alone, on horseback, with my sabre. Do you +understand? + +BLUNTSCHLI (staring, but sitting quite at his ease). Oh, thank +you: that's a cavalry man's proposal. I'm in the artillery; and +I have the choice of weapons. If I go, I shall take a machine +gun. And there shall be no mistake about the cartridges this +time. + +SERGIUS (flushing, but with deadly coldness). Take care, sir. +It is not our custom in Bulgaria to allow invitations of that +kind to be trifled with. + +BLUNTSCHLI (warmly). Pooh! don't talk to me about Bulgaria. You +don't know what fighting is. But have it your own way. Bring +your sabre along. I'll meet you. + +SERGIUS (fiercely delighted to find his opponent a man of +spirit). Well said, Switzer. Shall I lend you my best horse? + +BLUNTSCHLI. No: damn your horse!---thank you all the same, my +dear fellow. (Raina comes in, and hears the next sentence.) I +shall fight you on foot. Horseback's too dangerous: I don't want +to kill you if I can help it. + +RAINA (hurrying forward anxiously). I have heard what Captain +Bluntschli said, Sergius. You are going to fight. Why? (Sergius +turns away in silence, and goes to the stove, where he stands +watching her as she continues, to Bluntschli) What about? + +BLUNTSCHLI. I don't know: he hasn't told me. Better not +interfere, dear young lady. No harm will be done: I've often +acted as sword instructor. He won't be able to touch me; and +I'll not hurt him. It will save explanations. In the morning I +shall be off home; and you'll never see me or hear of me again. +You and he will then make it up and live happily ever after. + +RAINA (turning away deeply hurt, almost with a sob in her +voice). I never said I wanted to see you again. + +SERGIUS (striding forward). Ha! That is a confession. + +RAINA (haughtily). What do you mean? + +SERGIUS. You love that man! + +RAINA (scandalized). Sergius! + +SERGIUS. You allow him to make love to you behind my back, just +as you accept me as your affianced husband behind his. +Bluntschli: you knew our relations; and you deceived me. It is +for that that I call you to account, not for having received +favours that I never enjoyed. + +BLUNTSCHLI (jumping up indignantly). Stuff! Rubbish! I have +received no favours. Why, the young lady doesn't even know +whether I'm married or not. + +RAINA (forgetting herself). Oh! (Collapsing on the ottoman.) +Are you? + +SERGIUS. You see the young lady's concern, Captain Bluntschli. +Denial is useless. You have enjoyed the privilege of being +received in her own room, late at night-- + +BLUNTSCHLI (interrupting him pepperily). Yes; you blockhead! +She received me with a pistol at her head. Your cavalry were at +my heels. I'd have blown out her brains if she'd uttered a cry. + +SERGIUS (taken aback). Bluntschli! Raina: is this true? + +RAINA (rising in wrathful majesty). Oh, how dare you, how dare +you? + +BLUNTSCHLI. Apologize, man, apologize! (He resumes his seat at +the table.) + +SERGIUS (with the old measured emphasis, folding his arms). I +never apologize. + +RAINA (passionately). This is the doing of that friend of +yours, Captain Bluntschli. It is he who is spreading this +horrible story about me. (She walks about excitedly.) + +BLUNTSCHLI. No: he's dead--burnt alive. + +RAINA (stopping, shocked). Burnt alive! + +BLUNTSCHLI. Shot in the hip in a wood yard. Couldn't drag +himself out. Your fellows' shells set the timber on fire and +burnt him, with half a dozen other poor devils in the same +predicament. + +RAINA. How horrible! + +SERGIUS. And how ridiculous! Oh, war! war! the dream of patriots +and heroes! A fraud, Bluntschli, a hollow sham, like love. + +RAINA (outraged). Like love! You say that before me. + +BLUNTSCHLI. Come, Saranoff: that matter is explained. + +SERGIUS. A hollow sham, I say. Would you have come back here if +nothing had passed between you, except at the muzzle of your +pistol? Raina is mistaken about our friend who was burnt. He was +not my informant. + +RAINA. Who then? (Suddenly guessing the truth.) Ah, Louka! my +maid, my servant! You were with her this morning all that time +after---after---Oh, what sort of god is this I have been +worshipping! (He meets her gaze with sardonic enjoyment of her +disenchantment. Angered all the more, she goes closer to him, +and says, in a lower, intenser tone) Do you know that I looked +out of the window as I went upstairs, to have another sight of +my hero; and I saw something that I did not understand then. I +know now that you were making love to her. + +SERGIUS (with grim humor). You saw that? + +RAINA. Only too well. (She turns away, and throws herself on the +divan under the centre window, quite overcome.) + +SERGIUS (cynically). Raina: our romance is shattered. Life's a +farce. + +BLUNTSCHLI (to Raina, goodhumoredly). You see: he's found +himself out now. + +SERGIUS. Bluntschli: I have allowed you to call me a blockhead. +You may now call me a coward as well. I refuse to fight you. Do +you know why? + +BLUNTSCHLI. No; but it doesn't matter. I didn't ask the reason +when you cried on; and I don't ask the reason now that you cry +off. I'm a professional soldier. I fight when I have to, and am +very glad to get out of it when I haven't to. You're only an +amateur: you think fighting's an amusement. + +SERGIUS. You shall hear the reason all the same, my +professional. The reason is that it takes two men--real men--men +of heart, blood and honor--to make a genuine combat. I could no +more fight with you than I could make love to an ugly woman. +You've no magnetism: you're not a man, you're a machine. + +BLUNTSCHLI (apologetically). Quite true, quite true. I always +was that sort of chap. I'm very sorry. But now that you've found +that life isn't a farce, but something quite sensible and +serious, what further obstacle is there to your happiness? + +RAINA (riling). You are very solicitous about my happiness and +his. Do you forget his new love--Louka? It is not you that he +must fight now, but his rival, Nicola. + +SERGIUS. Rival!! (Striking his forehead.) + +RAINA. Did you not know that they are engaged? + +SERGIUS. Nicola! Are fresh abysses opening! Nicola!! + +RAINA (sarcastically). A shocking sacrifice, isn't it? Such +beauty, such intellect, such modesty, wasted on a middle-aged +servant man! Really, Sergius, you cannot stand by and allow such +a thing. It would be unworthy of your chivalry. + +SERGIUS (losing all self-control). Viper! Viper! (He rushes to +and fro, raging.) + +BLUNTSCHLI. Look here, Saranoff; you're getting the worst of +this. + +RAINA (getting angrier). Do you realize what he has done, +Captain Bluntschli? He has set this girl as a spy on us; and her +reward is that he makes love to her. + +SERGIUS. False! Monstrous! + +RAINA. Monstrous! (Confronting him.) Do you deny that she told +you about Captain Bluntschli being in my room? + +SERGIUS. No; but-- + +RAINA (interrupting). Do you deny that you were making love to +her when she told you? + +SERGIUS. No; but I tell you-- + +RAINA (cutting him short contemptuously). It is unnecessary to +tell us anything more. That is quite enough for us. (She turns +her back on him and sweeps majestically back to the window.) + +BLUNTSCHLI (quietly, as Sergius, in an agony of mortification, +sinks on the ottoman, clutching his averted head between his +fists). I told you you were getting the worst of it, Saranoff. + +SERGIUS. Tiger cat! + +RAINA (running excitedly to Bluntschli). You hear this man +calling me names, Captain Bluntschli? + +BLUNTSCHLI. What else can he do, dear lady? He must defend +himself somehow. Come (very persuasively), don't quarrel. What +good does it do? (Raina, with a gasp, sits down on the ottoman, +and after a vain effort to look vexedly at Bluntschli, she falls +a victim to her sense of humor, and is attacked with a +disposition to laugh.) + +SERGIUS. Engaged to Nicola! (He rises.) Ha! ha! (Going to the +stove and standing with his back to it.) Ah, well, Bluntschli, +you are right to take this huge imposture of a world coolly. + +RAINA (to Bluntschli with an intuitive guess at his state of +mind). I daresay you think us a couple of grown up babies, don't +you? + +SERGIUS (grinning a little). He does, he does. Swiss +civilization nursetending Bulgarian barbarism, eh? + +BLUNTSCHLI (blushing). Not at all, I assure you. I'm only very +glad to get you two quieted. There now, let's be pleasant and +talk it over in a friendly way. Where is this other young lady? + +RAINA. Listening at the door, probably. + +SERGIUS (shivering as if a bullet had struck him, and speaking +with quiet but deep indignation). I will prove that that, at +least, is a calumny. (He goes with dignity to the door and opens +it. A yell of fury bursts from him as he looks out. He darts +into the passage, and returns dragging in Louka, whom he flings +against the table, R., as he cries) Judge her, Bluntschli--you, +the moderate, cautious man: judge the eavesdropper. + + (Louka stands her ground, proud and silent.) + +BLUNTSCHLI (shaking his head). I mustn't judge her. I once +listened myself outside a tent when there was a mutiny brewing. +It's all a question of the degree of provocation. My life was at +stake. + +LOUKA. My love was at stake. (Sergius flinches, ashamed of her +in spite of himself.) I am not ashamed. + +RAINA (contemptuously). Your love! Your curiosity, you mean. + +LOUKA (facing her and retorting her contempt with interest). My +love, stronger than anything you can feel, even for your +chocolate cream soldier. + +SERGIUS (with quick suspicion--to Louka). What does that mean? + +LOUKA (fiercely). It means-- + +SERGIUS (interrupting her slightingly). Oh, I remember, the ice +pudding. A paltry taunt, girl. + + (Major Petkoff enters, in his shirtsleeves.) + +PETKOFF. Excuse my shirtsleeves, gentlemen. Raina: somebody has +been wearing that coat of mine: I'll swear it--somebody with +bigger shoulders than mine. It's all burst open at the back. +Your mother is mending it. I wish she'd make haste. I shall +catch cold. (He looks more attentively at them.) Is anything the +matter? + +RAINA. No. (She sits down at the stove with a tranquil air.) + +SERGIUS. Oh, no! (He sits down at the end of the table, as at +first.) + +BLUNTSCHLI (who is already seated). Nothing, nothing. + +PETKOFF (sitting down on the ottoman in his old place). That's +all right. (He notices Louka.) Anything the matter, Louka? + +LOUKA. No, sir. + +PETKOFF (genially). That's all right. (He sneezes.) Go and ask +your mistress for my coat, like a good girl, will you? (She +turns to obey; but Nicola enters with the coat; and she makes a +pretence of having business in the room by taking the little +table with the hookah away to the wall near the windows.) + +RAINA (rising quickly, as she sees the coat on Nicola's arm). +Here it is, papa. Give it to me, Nicola; and do you put some +more wood on the fire. (She takes the coat, and brings it to the +Major, who stands up to put it on. Nicola attends to the fire.) + +PETKOFF (to Raina, teasing her affectionately). Aha! Going to +be very good to poor old papa just for one day after his return +from the wars, eh? + +RAINA (with solemn reproach). Ah, how can you say that to me, +father? + +PETKOFF. Well, well, only a joke, little one. Come, give me a +kiss. (She kisses him.) Now give me the coat. + +RAINA. Now, I am going to put it on for you. Turn your back. (He +turns his back and feels behind him with his arms for the +sleeves. She dexterously takes the photograph from the pocket +and throws it on the table before Bluntschli, who covers it with +a sheet of paper under the very nose of Sergius, who looks on +amazed, with his suspicions roused in the highest degree. She +then helps Petkoff on with his coat.) There, dear! Now are you +comfortable? + +PETKOFF. Quite, little love. Thanks. (He sits down; and Raina +returns to her seat near the stove.) Oh, by the bye, I've found +something funny. What's the meaning of this? (He put his hand +into the picked pocket.) Eh? Hallo! (He tries the other pocket.) +Well, I could have sworn--(Much puzzled, he tries the breast +pocket.) I wonder--(Tries the original pocket.) Where can +it--(A light flashes on him; he rises, exclaiming) Your mother's +taken it. + +RAINA (very red). Taken what? + +PETKOFF. Your photograph, with the inscription: "Raina, to her +Chocolate Cream Soldier--a souvenir." Now you know there's +something more in this than meets the eye; and I'm going to find +it out. (Shouting) Nicola! + +NICOLA (dropping a log, and turning). Sir! + +PETKOFF. Did you spoil any pastry of Miss Raina's this morning? + +NICOLA. You heard Miss Raina say that I did, sir. + +PETKOFF. I know that, you idiot. Was it true? + +NICOLA. I am sure Miss Raina is incapable of saying anything +that is not true, sir. + +PETKOFF. Are you? Then I'm not. (Turning to the others.) Come: +do you think I don't see it all? (Goes to Sergius, and slaps him +on the shoulder.) Sergius: you're the chocolate cream soldier, +aren't you? + +SERGIUS (starting up). I! a chocolate cream soldier! Certainly +not. + +PETKOFF. Not! (He looks at them. They are all very serious and +very conscious.) Do you mean to tell me that Raina sends +photographic souvenirs to other men? + +SERGIUS (enigmatically). The world is not such an innocent +place as we used to think, Petkoff. + +BLUNTSCHLI (rising). It's all right, Major. I'm the chocolate +cream soldier. (Petkoff and Sergius are equally astonished.) The +gracious young lady saved my life by giving me chocolate creams +when I was starving--shall I ever forget their flavour! My late +friend Stolz told you the story at Peerot. I was the fugitive. + +PETKOFF. You! (He gasps.) Sergius: do you remember how those two +women went on this morning when we mentioned it? (Sergius smiles +cynically. Petkoff confronts Raina severely.) You're a nice young +woman, aren't you? + +RAINA (bitterly). Major Saranoff has changed his mind. And when +I wrote that on the photograph, I did not know that Captain +Bluntschli was married. + +BLUNTSCHLI (much startled protesting vehemently). I'm not +married. + +RAINA (with deep reproach). You said you were. + +BLUNTSCHLI. I did not. I positively did not. I never was married +in my life. + +PETKOFF (exasperated). Raina: will you kindly inform me, if I +am not asking too much, which gentleman you are engaged to? + +RAINA. To neither of them. This young lady (introducing Louka, +who faces them all proudly) is the object of Major Saranoff's +affections at present. + +PETKOFF. Louka! Are you mad, Sergius? Why, this girl's engaged +to Nicola. + +NICOLA (coming forward ). I beg your pardon, sir. There is a +mistake. Louka is not engaged to me. + +PETKOFF. Not engaged to you, you scoundrel! Why, you had +twenty-five levas from me on the day of your betrothal; and she +had that gilt bracelet from Miss Raina. + +NICOLA (with cool unction). We gave it out so, sir. But it was +only to give Louka protection. She had a soul above her station; +and I have been no more than her confidential servant. I intend, +as you know, sir, to set up a shop later on in Sofia; and I look +forward to her custom and recommendation should she marry into +the nobility. (He goes out with impressive discretion, leaving +them all staring after him.) + +PETKOFF (breaking the silence). Well, I am---hm! + +SERGIUS. This is either the finest heroism or the most crawling +baseness. Which is it, Bluntschli? + +BLUNTSCHLI. Never mind whether it's heroism or baseness. +Nicola's the ablest man I've met in Bulgaria. I'll make him +manager of a hotel if he can speak French and German. + +LOUKA (suddenly breaking out at Sergius). I have been insulted +by everyone here. You set them the example. You owe me an +apology. (Sergius immediately, like a repeating clock of which +the spring has been touched, begins to fold his arms.) + +BLUNTSCHLI (before he can speak). It's no use. He never +apologizes. + +LOUKA. Not to you, his equal and his enemy. To me, his poor +servant, he will not refuse to apologize. + +SERGIUS (approvingly). You are right. (He bends his knee in his +grandest manner.) Forgive me! + +LOUKA. I forgive you. (She timidly gives him her hand, which he +kisses.) That touch makes me your affianced wife. + +SERGIUS (springing up). Ah, I forgot that! + +LOUKA (coldly). You can withdraw if you like. + +SERGIUS. Withdraw! Never! You belong to me! (He puts his arm +about her and draws her to him.) (Catherine comes in and finds +Louka in Sergius's arms, and all the rest gazing at them in +bewildered astonishment.) + +CATHERINE. What does this mean? (Sergius releases Louka.) + +PETKOFF. Well, my dear, it appears that Sergius is going to +marry Louka instead of Raina. (She is about to break out +indignantly at him: he stops her by exclaiming testily.) Don't +blame me: I've nothing to do with it. (He retreats to the +stove.) + +CATHERINE. Marry Louka! Sergius: you are bound by your word to +us! + +SERGIUS (folding his arms). Nothing binds me. + +BLUNTSCHLI (much pleased by this piece of common sense). +Saranoff: your hand. My congratulations. These heroics of yours +have their practical side after all. (To Louka.) Gracious young +lady: the best wishes of a good Republican! (He kisses her hand, +to Raina's great disgust.) + +CATHERINE (threateningly). Louka: you have been telling +stories. + +LOUKA. I have done Raina no harm. + +CATHERINE (haughtily). Raina! (Raina is equally indignant at +the liberty.) + +LOUKA. I have a right to call her Raina: she calls me Louka. I +told Major Saranoff she would never marry him if the Swiss +gentleman came back. + +BLUNTSCHLI (surprised). Hallo! + +LOUKA (turning to Raina). I thought you were fonder of him than +of Sergius. You know best whether I was right. + +BLUNTSCHLI. What nonsense! I assure you, my dear Major, my dear +Madame, the gracious young lady simply saved my life, nothing +else. She never cared two straws for me. Why, bless my heart and +soul, look at the young lady and look at me. She, rich, young, +beautiful, with her imagination full of fairy princes and noble +natures and cavalry charges and goodness knows what! And I, a +common-place Swiss soldier who hardly knows what a decent life +is after fifteen years of barracks and battles--a vagabond--a +man who has spoiled all his chances in life through an incurably +romantic disposition--a man-- + +SERGIUS (starting as if a needle had pricked him and +interrupting Bluntschli in incredulous amazement). Excuse me, +Bluntschli: what did you say had spoiled your chances in life? + +BLUNTSCHLI (promptly). An incurably romantic disposition. I ran +away from home twice when I was a boy. I went into the army +instead of into my father's business. I climbed the balcony of +this house when a man of sense would have dived into the nearest +cellar. I came sneaking back here to have another look at the +young lady when any other man of my age would have sent the coat +back-- + +PETKOFF. My coat! + +BLUNTSCHLI.--Yes: that's the coat I mean--would have sent it +back and gone quietly home. Do you suppose I am the sort of +fellow a young girl falls in love with? Why, look at our ages! +I'm thirty-four: I don't suppose the young lady is much over +seventeen. (This estimate produces a marked sensation, all the +rest turning and staring at one another. He proceeds +innocently.) All that adventure which was life or death to me, +was only a schoolgirl's game to her--chocolate creams and hide +and seek. Here's the proof! (He takes the photograph from the +table.) Now, I ask you, would a woman who took the affair +seriously have sent me this and written on it: "Raina, to her +chocolate cream soldier--a souvenir"? (He exhibits the +photograph triumphantly, as if it settled the matter beyond all +possibility of refutation.) + +PETKOFF. That's what I was looking for. How the deuce did it get +there? + +BLUNTSCHLI (to Raina complacently). I have put everything +right, I hope, gracious young lady! + +RAINA (in uncontrollable vexation). I quite agree with your +account of yourself. You are a romantic idiot. (Bluntschli is +unspeakably taken aback.) Next time I hope you will know the +difference between a schoolgirl of seventeen and a woman of +twenty-three. + +BLUNTSCHLI (stupefied). Twenty-three! (She snaps the photograph +contemptuously from his hand; tears it across; and throws the +pieces at his feet.) + +SERGIUS (with grim enjoyment of Bluntschli's discomfiture). +Bluntschli: my one last belief is gone. Your sagacity is a +fraud, like all the other things. You have less sense than even +I have. + +BLUNTSCHLI (overwhelmed). Twenty-three! Twenty-three!! (He +considers.) Hm! (Swiftly making up his mind.) In that case, +Major Petkoff, I beg to propose formally to become a suitor for +your daughter's hand, in place of Major Saranoff retired. + +RAINA. You dare! + +BLUNTSCHLI. If you were twenty-three when you said those things +to me this afternoon, I shall take them seriously. + +CATHERINE (loftily polite). I doubt, sir, whether you quite +realize either my daughter's position or that of Major Sergius +Saranoff, whose place you propose to take. The Petkoffs and the +Saranoffs are known as the richest and most important families +in the country. Our position is almost historical: we can go +back for nearly twenty years. + +PETKOFF. Oh, never mind that, Catherine. (To Bluntschli.) We +should be most happy, Bluntschli, if it were only a question of +your position; but hang it, you know, Raina is accustomed to a +very comfortable establishment. Sergius keeps twenty horses. + +BLUNTSCHLI. But what on earth is the use of twenty horses? Why, +it's a circus. + +CATHERINE (severely). My daughter, sir, is accustomed to a +first-rate stable. + +RAINA. Hush, mother, you're making me ridiculous. + +BLUNTSCHLI. Oh, well, if it comes to a question of an +establishment, here goes! (He goes impetuously to the table and +seizes the papers in the blue envelope.) How many horses did you +say? + +SERGIUS. Twenty, noble Switzer! + +BLUNTSCHLI. I have two hundred horses. (They are amazed.) How +many carriages? + +SERGIUS. Three. + +BLUNTSCHLI. I have seventy. Twenty-four of them will hold twelve +inside, besides two on the box, without counting the driver and +conductor. How many tablecloths have you? + +SERGIUS. How the deuce do I know? + +BLUNTSCHLI. Have you four thousand? + +SERGIUS. NO. + +BLUNTSCHLI. I have. I have nine thousand six hundred pairs of +sheets and blankets, with two thousand four hundred eider-down +quilts. I have ten thousand knives and forks, and the same +quantity of dessert spoons. I have six hundred servants. I have +six palatial establishments, besides two livery stables, a tea +garden and a private house. I have four medals for distinguished +services; I have the rank of an officer and the standing of a +gentleman; and I have three native languages. Show me any man in +Bulgaria that can offer as much. + +PETKOFF (with childish awe). Are you Emperor of Switzerland? + +BLUNTSCHLI. My rank is the highest known in Switzerland: I'm a +free citizen. + +CATHERINE. Then Captain Bluntschli, since you are my daughter's +choice, I shall not stand in the way of her happiness. (Petkoff +is about to speak.) That is Major Petkoff's feeling also. + +PETKOFF. Oh, I shall be only too glad. Two hundred horses! Whew! + +SERGIUS. What says the lady? + +RAINA (pretending to sulk). The lady says that he can keep his +tablecloths and his omnibuses. I am not here to be sold to the +highest bidder. + +BLUNTSCHLI. I won't take that answer. I appealed to you as a +fugitive, a beggar, and a starving man. You accepted me. You +gave me your hand to kiss, your bed to sleep in, and your roof +to shelter me-- + +RAINA (interrupting him). I did not give them to the Emperor of +Switzerland! + +BLUNTSCHLI. That's just what I say. (He catches her hand quickly +and looks her straight in the face as he adds, with confident +mastery) Now tell us who you did give them to. + +RAINA (succumbing with a shy smile). To my chocolate cream +soldier! + +BLUNTSCHLI (with a boyish laugh of delight). That'll do. Thank +you. (Looks at his watch and suddenly becomes businesslike.) +Time's up, Major. You've managed those regiments so well that +you are sure to be asked to get rid of some of the Infantry of +the Teemok division. Send them home by way of Lom Palanka. +Saranoff: don't get married until I come back: I shall be here +punctually at five in the evening on Tuesday fortnight. Gracious +ladies--good evening. (He makes them a military bow, and goes.) + +SERGIUS. What a man! What a man! + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Arms and the Man, by George Bernard Shaw + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ARMS AND THE MAN *** + +***** This file should be named 3618.txt or 3618.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/1/3618/ + +Produced by Jim Tinsley <jtinsley@pobox.com> with help +from the distributed proofreaders at +http://charlz.dynip.com/gutenberg + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/old/3618.zip b/old/3618.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2736a67 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/3618.zip diff --git a/old/rmsmn10.txt b/old/rmsmn10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..752c809 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/rmsmn10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3898 @@ +Project Gutenberg Etext Arms and the Man, by George Bernard Shaw +#18 in our series by George Bernard Shaw + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the laws for your country before redistributing these files!!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. + +Please do not remove this. + +This should be the first thing seen when anyone opens the book. +Do not change or edit it without written permission. The words +are carefully chosen to provide users with the information they +need about what they can legally do with the texts. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations* + +Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and +further information is included below. We need your donations. +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a 501(c)(3) +organization with EIN [Employee Identification Number] 64-6221541 + +As of 05/16/01 contributions are only being solicited from people in: +Connecticut, Louisiana, Maine, Missouri, Oklahoma, Colorado, +Delaware, Hawaii, Idaho, Indiana, Iowa, Montana, Nebraska, +South Dakota, Texas, Vermont, Wyoming, South Carolina. + +We have filed in about 45 states now, but these are the only ones +that have responded. + + +As the requirements for other states are met, +additions to this list will be made and fund raising +will begin in the additional states. Please feel +free to ask to check the status of your state. + + +In answer to various questions we have received on this: + +We are constantly working on finishing the paperwork +to legally request donations in all 50 states. If +your state is not listed and you would like to know +if we have added it since the list you have, just ask. + +While we cannot solicit donations from people in +states where we are not yet registered, we know +of no prohibition against accepting donations +from donors in these states who approach us with +an offer to donate. + + +International donations are accepted, +but we don't know ANYTHING about how +to make them tax-deductible, or +even if they CAN be made deductible, +and don't have the staff to handle it +even if there are ways. + +These donations should be made to: + +Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +PMB 113 +1739 University Ave. +Oxford, MS 38655-4109 + + +Title: Arms and the Man + +Author: George Bernard Shaw + +Release Date: January, 2003 [Etext #3618] +[Yes, we are about one year ahead of schedule] +[The actual date this file first posted = 06/17/01] +[Date last updated: August 22, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Project Gutenberg Etext Arms and the Man, by George Bernard Shaw +******This file should be named rmsmn10.txt or rmsmn10.zip****** + +Corrected EDITIONS of our etexts get a new NUMBER, rmsmn11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, rmsmn10a.txt + +Produced by Jim Tinsley <jtinsley@pobox.com> with help from the +distributed proofreaders at http://charlz.dynip.com/gutenberg + + +Project Gutenberg Etexts are usually created from multiple editions, +all of which are in the Public Domain in the United States, unless a +copyright notice is included. Therefore, we usually do NOT keep any +of these books in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +We are now trying to release all our books one year in advance +of the official release dates, leaving time for better editing. +Please be encouraged to send us error messages even years after +the official publication date. + +Please note: neither this list nor its contents are final till +midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement. +The official release date of all Project Gutenberg Etexts is at +Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month. A +preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment +and editing by those who wish to do so. + +Most people start at our sites at: +http://gutenberg.net +http://promo.net/pg + + +Those of you who want to download any Etext before announcement +can surf to them as follows, and just download by date; this is +also a good way to get them instantly upon announcement, as the +indexes our cataloguers produce obviously take a while after an +announcement goes out in the Project Gutenberg Newsletter. + +http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/etext03 +or +ftp://ftp.ibiblio.org/pub/docs/books/gutenberg/etext03 + +Or /etext02, 01, 00, 99, 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90 + +Just search by the first five letters of the filename you want, +as it appears in our Newsletters. + + +Information about Project Gutenberg (one page) + +We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work. The +time it takes us, a rather conservative estimate, is fifty hours +to get any etext selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright +searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc. This +projected audience is one hundred million readers. If our value +per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2 +million dollars per hour this year as we release fifty new Etext +files per month, or 500 more Etexts in 2000 for a total of 3000+ +If they reach just 1-2% of the world's population then the total +should reach over 300 billion Etexts given away by year's end. + +The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away One Trillion Etext +Files by December 31, 2001. [10,000 x 100,000,000 = 1 Trillion] +This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers, +which is only about 4% of the present number of computer users. + +At our revised rates of production, we will reach only one-third +of that goal by the end of 2001, or about 3,333 Etexts unless we +manage to get some real funding. + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been created +to secure a future for Project Gutenberg into the next millennium. + +We need your donations more than ever! + +As of June 1, 2001 contributions are only being solicited from people in: +Arkansas, Colorado, Connecticut, Delaware, Hawaii, Idaho, Indiana, Iowa, +Kansas, Louisiana, Maine, Massachusetts, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, New +Jersey, New York, Ohio, Oklahoma, Oregon, South Carolina, South Dakota, +Texas, Vermont, Washington West Virginia and Wyoming. + +We have filed in about 45 states now, but these are the only ones +that have responded. + +As the requirements for other states are met, +additions to this list will be made and fund raising +will begin in the additional states. Please feel +free to ask to check the status of your state. + +In answer to various questions we have received on this: + +We are constantly working on finishing the paperwork +to legally request donations in all 50 states. If +your state is not listed and you would like to know +if we have added it since the list you have, just ask. + +While we cannot solicit donations from people in +states where we are not yet registered, we know +of no prohibition against accepting donations +from donors in these states who approach us with +an offer to donate. + + +International donations are accepted, +but we don't know ANYTHING about how +to make them tax-deductible, or +even if they CAN be made deductible, +and don't have the staff to handle it +even if there are ways. + +All donations should be made to: + +Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +PMB 113 +1739 University Ave. +Oxford, MS 38655-4109 + + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a 501(c)(3) +organization with EIN [Employee Identification Number] 64-6221541, +and has been approved as a 501(c)(3) organization by the US Internal +Revenue Service (IRS). Donations are tax-deductible to the maximum +extent permitted by law. As the requirements for other states are met, +additions to this list will be made and fund raising will begin in the +additional states. + +We need your donations more than ever! + +You can get up to date donation information at: + +http://www.gutenberg.net/donation.html + + +*** + +If you can't reach Project Gutenberg, +you can always email directly to: + +Michael S. Hart <hart@pobox.com> + +hart@pobox.com forwards to hart@prairienet.org and archive.org +if your mail bounces from archive.org, I will still see it, if +it bounces from prairienet.org, better resend later on. . . . + +Prof. Hart will answer or forward your message. + +We would prefer to send you information by email. + + +*** + + +Example command-line FTP session: + +ftp ftp.ibiblio.org +login: anonymous +password: your@login +cd pub/docs/books/gutenberg +cd etext90 through etext99 or etext00 through etext02, etc. +dir [to see files] +get or mget [to get files. . .set bin for zip files] +GET GUTINDEX.?? [to get a year's listing of books, e.g., GUTINDEX.99] +GET GUTINDEX.ALL [to get a listing of ALL books] + + +**The Legal Small Print** + + +(Three Pages) + +***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS**START*** +Why is this "Small Print!" statement here? You know: lawyers. +They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with +your copy of this etext, even if you got it for free from +someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our +fault. So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement +disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how +you may distribute copies of this etext if you want to. + +*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS ETEXT +By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +etext, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept +this "Small Print!" statement. If you do not, you can receive +a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this etext by +sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person +you got it from. If you received this etext on a physical +medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request. + +ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM ETEXTS +This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etexts, +is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor Michael S. Hart +through the Project Gutenberg Association (the "Project"). +Among other things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright +on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and +distribute it in the United States without permission and +without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth +below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this etext +under the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark. + +Please do not use the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark to market +any commercial products without permission. + +To create these etexts, the Project expends considerable +efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain +works. Despite these efforts, the Project's etexts and any +medium they may be on may contain "Defects". Among other +things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other +intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged +disk or other etext medium, a computer virus, or computer +codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. + +LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES +But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below, +[1] Michael Hart and the Foundation (and any other party you may +receive this etext from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext) disclaims +all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including +legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR +UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT, +INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE +OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE +POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES. + +If you discover a Defect in this etext within 90 days of +receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) +you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that +time to the person you received it from. If you received it +on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and +such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement +copy. If you received it electronically, such person may +choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to +receive it electronically. + +THIS ETEXT IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS +TO THE ETEXT OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A +PARTICULAR PURPOSE. + +Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or +the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the +above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you +may have other legal rights. + +INDEMNITY +You will indemnify and hold Michael Hart, the Foundation, +and its trustees and agents, and any volunteers associated +with the production and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm +texts harmless, from all liability, cost and expense, including +legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the +following that you do or cause: [1] distribution of this etext, +[2] alteration, modification, or addition to the etext, +or [3] any Defect. + +DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm" +You may distribute copies of this etext electronically, or by +disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this +"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg, +or: + +[1] Only give exact copies of it. Among other things, this + requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the + etext or this "small print!" statement. You may however, + if you wish, distribute this etext in machine readable + binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form, + including any form resulting from conversion by word + processing or hypertext software, but only so long as + *EITHER*: + + [*] The etext, when displayed, is clearly readable, and + does *not* contain characters other than those + intended by the author of the work, although tilde + (~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may + be used to convey punctuation intended by the + author, and additional characters may be used to + indicate hypertext links; OR + + [*] The etext may be readily converted by the reader at + no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent + form by the program that displays the etext (as is + the case, for instance, with most word processors); + OR + + [*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at + no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the + etext in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC + or other equivalent proprietary form). + +[2] Honor the etext refund and replacement provisions of this + "Small Print!" statement. + +[3] Pay a trademark license fee to the Foundation of 20% of the + gross profits you derive calculated using the method you + already use to calculate your applicable taxes. If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation" + the 60 days following each date you prepare (or were + legally required to prepare) your annual (or equivalent + periodic) tax return. Please contact us beforehand to + let us know your plans and to work out the details. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +Project Gutenberg is dedicated to increasing the number of +public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed +in machine readable form. + +The Project gratefully accepts contributions of money, time, +public domain materials, or royalty free copyright licenses. +Money should be paid to the: +"Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +If you are interested in contributing scanning equipment or +software or other items, please contact Michael Hart at: +hart@pobox.com + +*END THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.06/12/01*END* +[Portions of this header are copyright (C) 2001 by Michael S. Hart +and may be reprinted only when these Etexts are free of all fees.] +[Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be used in any sales +of Project Gutenberg Etexts or other materials be they hardware or +software or any other related product without express permission.] + + + + + +Produced by Jim Tinsley <jtinsley@pobox.com> with help from the +distributed proofreaders at http://charlz.dynip.com/gutenberg + + + + + +Arms and the Man + +by George Bernard Shaw + + + + +INTRODUCTION + +To the irreverent--and which of us will claim entire exemption from that +comfortable classification?--there is something very amusing in the +attitude of the orthodox criticism toward Bernard Shaw. He so obviously +disregards all the canons and unities and other things which every +well-bred dramatist is bound to respect that his work is really unworthy +of serious criticism (orthodox). Indeed he knows no more about the +dramatic art than, according to his own story in "The Man of Destiny," +Napoleon at Tavazzano knew of the Art of War. But both men were +successes each in his way--the latter won victories and the former +gained audiences, in the very teeth of the accepted theories of war and +the theatre. Shaw does not know that it is unpardonable sin to have his +characters make long speeches at one another, apparently thinking that +this embargo applies only to long speeches which consist mainly of +bombast and rhetoric. There never was an author who showed less +predilection for a specific medium by which to accomplish his results. +He recognized, early in his days, many things awry in the world and he +assumed the task of mundane reformation with a confident spirit. It +seems such a small job at twenty to set the times aright. He began as an +Essayist, but who reads essays now-a-days?--he then turned novelist with +no better success, for no one would read such preposterous stuff as he +chose to emit. He only succeeded in proving that absolutely rational men +and women--although he has created few of the latter--can be most +extremely disagreeable to our conventional way of thinking. + +As a last resort, he turned to the stage, not that he cared for the +dramatic art, for no man seems to care less about "Art for Art's sake," +being in this a perfect foil to his brilliant compatriot and +contemporary, Wilde. He cast his theories in dramatic forms merely +because no other course except silence or physical revolt was open to +him. For a long time it seemed as if this resource too was doomed to +fail him. But finally he has attained a hearing and now attempts at +suppression merely serve to advertise their victim. + +It will repay those who seek analogies in literature to compare Shaw +with Cervantes. After a life of heroic endeavor, disappointment, +slavery, and poverty, the author of "Don Quixote" gave the world a +serious work which caused to be laughed off the world's stage forever +the final vestiges of decadent chivalry. + +The institution had long been outgrown, but its vernacular continued to +be the speech and to express the thought "of the world and among the +vulgar," as the quaint, old novelist puts it, just as to-day the novel +intended for the consumption of the unenlightened must deal with peers +and millionaires and be dressed in stilted language. Marvellously he +succeeded, but in a way he least intended. We have not yet, after so +many years, determined whether it is a work to laugh or cry over. "It is +our joyfullest modern book," says Carlyle, while Landor thinks that +"readers who see nothing more than a burlesque in 'Don Quixote' have but +shallow appreciation of the work." + +Shaw in like manner comes upon the scene when many of our social usages +are outworn. He sees the fact, announces it, and we burst into guffaws. +The continuous laughter which greets Shaw's plays arises from a real +contrast in the point of view of the dramatist and his audiences. When +Pinero or Jones describes a whimsical situation we never doubt for a +moment that the author's point of view is our own and that the abnormal +predicament of his characters appeals to him in the same light as to his +audience. With Shaw this sense of community of feeling is wholly +lacking. He describes things as he sees them, and the house is in a +roar. Who is right? If we were really using our own senses and not +gazing through the glasses of convention and romance and make-believe, +should we see things as Shaw does? + +Must it not cause Shaw to doubt his own or the public's sanity to hear +audiences laughing boisterously over tragic situations? And yet, if they +did not come to laugh, they would not come at all. Mockery is the price +he must pay for a hearing. Or has he calculated to a nicety the power of +reaction? Does he seek to drive us to aspiration by the portrayal of +sordidness, to disinterestedness by the picture of selfishness, to +illusion by disillusionment? It is impossible to believe that he is +unconscious of the humor of his dramatic situations, yet he stoically +gives no sign. He even dares the charge, terrible in proportion to its +truth, which the most serious of us shrinks from--the lack of a sense of +humor. Men would rather have their integrity impugned. + +In "Arms and the Man" the subject which occupies the dramatist's +attention is that survival of barbarity--militarism--which raises its +horrid head from time to time to cast a doubt on the reality of our +civilization. No more hoary superstition survives than that the donning +of a uniform changes the nature of the wearer. This notion pervades +society to such an extent that when we find some soldiers placed upon +the stage acting rationally, our conventionalized senses are shocked. +The only men who have no illusions about war are those who have recently +been there, and, of course, Mr. Shaw, who has no illusions about +anything. + +It is hard to speak too highly of "Candida." No equally subtle and +incisive study of domestic relations exists in the English drama. One +has to turn to George Meredith's "The Egoist" to find such character +dissection. The central note of the play is, that with the true woman, +weakness which appeals to the maternal instinct is more powerful than +strength which offers protection. Candida is quite unpoetic, as, indeed, +with rare exceptions, women are prone to be. They have small delight in +poetry, but are the stuff of which poems and dreams are made. The +husband glorying in his strength but convicted of his weakness, the poet +pitiful in his physical impotence but strong in his perception of truth, +the hopelessly de-moralized manufacturer, the conventional and hence +emotional typist make up a group which the drama of any language may be +challenged to rival. + +In "The Man of Destiny" the object of the dramatist is not so much the +destruction as the explanation of the Napoleonic tradition, which has so +powerfully influenced generation after generation for a century. However +the man may be regarded, he was a miracle. Shaw shows that he achieved +his extraordinary career by suspending, for himself, the pressure of the +moral and conventional atmosphere, while leaving it operative for +others. Those who study this play--extravaganza, that it is--will attain +a clearer comprehension of Napoleon than they can get from all the +biographies. + +"You Never Can Tell" offers an amusing study of the play of social +conventions. The "twins" illustrate the disconcerting effects of that +perfect frankness which would make life intolerable. Gloria demonstrates +the powerlessness of reason to overcome natural instincts. The idea that +parental duties and functions can be fulfilled by the light of such +knowledge as man and woman attain by intuition is brilliantly lampooned. +Crampton, the father, typifies the common superstition that among the +privileges of parenthood are inflexibility, tyranny, and respect, the +last entirely regardless of whether it has been deserved. + +The waiter, William, is the best illustration of the man "who knows his +place" that the stage has seen. He is the most pathetic figure of the +play. One touch of verisimilitude is lacking; none of the guests gives +him a tip, yet he maintains his urbanity. As Mr. Shaw has not yet +visited America he may be unaware of the improbability of this +situation. + +To those who regard literary men merely as purveyors of amusement for +people who have not wit enough to entertain themselves, Ibsen and Shaw, +Maeterlinck and Gorky must remain enigmas. It is so much pleasanter to +ignore than to face unpleasant realities--to take Riverside Drive and +not Mulberry Street as the exponent of our life and the expression of +our civilization. These men are the sappers and miners of the advancing +army of justice. The audience which demands the truth and despises the +contemptible conventions that dominate alike our stage and our life is +daily growing. Shaw and men like him--if indeed he is not absolutely +unique--will not for the future lack a hearing. + +M. + + + + + + +ARMS AND THE MAN + +ACT I + + Night. A lady's bedchamber in Bulgaria, in a small + town near the Dragoman Pass. It is late in + November in the year 1885, and through an open + window with a little balcony on the left can be + seen a peak of the Balkans, wonderfully white and + beautiful in the starlit snow. The interior of the + room is not like anything to be seen in the east + of Europe. It is half rich Bulgarian, half cheap + Viennese. The counterpane and hangings of the bed, + the window curtains, the little carpet, and all + the ornamental textile fabrics in the room are + oriental and gorgeous: the paper on the walls is + occidental and paltry. Above the head of the bed, + which stands against a little wall cutting off the + right hand corner of the room diagonally, is a + painted wooden shrine, blue and gold, with an + ivory image of Christ, and a light hanging before + it in a pierced metal ball suspended by three + chains. On the left, further forward, is an + ottoman. The washstand, against the wall on the + left, consists of an enamelled iron basin with a + pail beneath it in a painted metal frame, and a + single towel on the rail at the side. A chair near + it is Austrian bent wood, with cane seat. The + dressing table, between the bed and the window, is + an ordinary pine table, covered with a cloth of + many colors, but with an expensive toilet mirror + on it. The door is on the right; and there is a + chest of drawers between the door and the bed. + This chest of drawers is also covered by a + variegated native cloth, and on it there is a pile + of paper backed novels, a box of chocolate creams, + and a miniature easel, on which is a large + photograph of an extremely handsome officer, whose + lofty bearing and magnetic glance can be felt even + from the portrait. The room is lighted by a candle + on the chest of drawers, and another on the + dressing table, with a box of matches beside it. + + The window is hinged doorwise and stands wide + open, folding back to the left. Outside a pair of + wooden shutters, opening outwards, also stand + open. On the balcony, a young lady, intensely + conscious of the romantic beauty of the night, and + of the fact that her own youth and beauty is a part + of it, is on the balcony, gazing at the snowy + Balkans. She is covered by a long mantle of furs, + worth, on a moderate estimate, about three times + the furniture of her room. + + Her reverie is interrupted by her mother, + Catherine Petkoff, a woman over forty, imperiously + energetic, with magnificent black hair and eyes, + who might be a very splendid specimen of the wife + of a mountain farmer, but is determined to be a + Viennese lady, and to that end wears a fashionable + tea gown on all occasions. + +CATHERINE (entering hastily, full of good news). Raina--(she +pronounces it Rah-eena, with the stress on the ee) Raina--(she +goes to the bed, expecting to find Raina there.) Why, +where--(Raina looks into the room.) Heavens! child, are you out +in the night air instead of in your bed? You'll catch your +death. Louka told me you were asleep. + +RAINA (coming in). I sent her away. I wanted to be alone. The +stars are so beautiful! What is the matter? + +CATHERINE. Such news. There has been a battle! + +RAINA (her eyes dilating). Ah! (She throws the cloak on the +ottoman, and comes eagerly to Catherine in her nightgown, a +pretty garment, but evidently the only one she has on.) + +CATHERINE. A great battle at Slivnitza! A victory! And it was +won by Sergius. + +RAINA (with a cry of delight). Ah! (Rapturously.) Oh, mother! +(Then, with sudden anxiety) Is father safe? + +CATHERINE. Of course: he sent me the news. Sergius is the hero +of the hour, the idol of the regiment. + +RAINA. Tell me, tell me. How was it! (Ecstatically) Oh, mother, +mother, mother! (Raina pulls her mother down on the ottoman; and +they kiss one another frantically.) + +CATHERINE (with surging enthusiasm). You can't guess how +splendid it is. A cavalry charge--think of that! He defied our +Russian commanders--acted without orders--led a charge on his +own responsibility--headed it himself--was the first man to +sweep through their guns. Can't you see it, Raina; our gallant +splendid Bulgarians with their swords and eyes flashing, +thundering down like an avalanche and scattering the wretched +Servian dandies like chaff. And you--you kept Sergius waiting a +year before you would be betrothed to him. Oh, if you have a +drop of Bulgarian blood in your veins, you will worship him when +he comes back. + +RAINA. What will he care for my poor little worship after the +acclamations of a whole army of heroes? But no matter: I am so +happy--so proud! (She rises and walks about excitedly.) It +proves that all our ideas were real after all. + +CATHERINE (indignantly). Our ideas real! What do you mean? + +RAINA. Our ideas of what Sergius would do--our patriotism--our +heroic ideals. Oh, what faithless little creatures girls are!--I +sometimes used to doubt whether they were anything but dreams. +When I buckled on Sergius's sword he looked so noble: it was +treason to think of disillusion or humiliation or failure. And +yet--and yet--(Quickly.) Promise me you'll never tell him. + +CATHERINE. Don't ask me for promises until I know what I am +promising. + +RAINA. Well, it came into my head just as he was holding me in +his arms and looking into my eyes, that perhaps we only had our +heroic ideas because we are so fond of reading Byron and +Pushkin, and because we were so delighted with the opera that +season at Bucharest. Real life is so seldom like that--indeed +never, as far as I knew it then. (Remorsefully.) Only think, +mother, I doubted him: I wondered whether all his heroic +qualities and his soldiership might not prove mere imagination +when he went into a real battle. I had an uneasy fear that he +might cut a poor figure there beside all those clever Russian +officers. + +CATHERINE. A poor figure! Shame on you! The Servians have +Austrian officers who are just as clever as our Russians; but we +have beaten them in every battle for all that. + +RAINA (laughing and sitting down again). Yes, I was only a +prosaic little coward. Oh, to think that it was all true--that +Sergius is just as splendid and noble as he looks--that the +world is really a glorious world for women who can see its glory +and men who can act its romance! What happiness! what +unspeakable fulfilment! Ah! (She throws herself on her knees +beside her mother and flings her arms passionately round her. +They are interrupted by the entry of Louka, a handsome, proud +girl in a pretty Bulgarian peasant's dress with double apron, so +defiant that her servility to Raina is almost insolent. She is +afraid of Catherine, but even with her goes as far as she dares. +She is just now excited like the others; but she has no sympathy +for Raina's raptures and looks contemptuously at the ecstasies +of the two before she addresses them.) + +LOUKA. If you please, madam, all the windows are to be closed +and the shutters made fast. They say there may be shooting in +the streets. (Raina and Catherine rise together, alarmed.) The +Servians are being chased right back through the pass; and they +say they may run into the town. Our cavalry will be after them; +and our people will be ready for them you may be sure, now that +they are running away. (She goes out on the balcony and pulls +the outside shutters to; then steps back into the room.) + +RAINA. I wish our people were not so cruel. What glory is there +in killing wretched fugitives? + +CATHERINE (business-like, her housekeeping instincts aroused). +I must see that everything is made safe downstairs. + +RAINA (to Louka). Leave the shutters so that I can just close +them if I hear any noise. + +CATHERINE (authoritatively, turning on her way to the door). +Oh, no, dear, you must keep them fastened. You would be sure to +drop off to sleep and leave them open. Make them fast, Louka. + +LOUKA. Yes, madam. (She fastens them.) + +RAINA. Don't be anxious about me. The moment I hear a shot, I +shall blow out the candles and roll myself up in bed with my +ears well covered. + +CATHERINE. Quite the wisest thing you can do, my love. +Good-night. + +RAINA. Good-night. (They kiss one another, and Raina's emotion +comes back for a moment.) Wish me joy of the happiest night of +my life--if only there are no fugitives. + +CATHERINE. Go to bed, dear; and don't think of them. (She goes +out.) + +LOUKA (secretly, to Raina). If you would like the shutters +open, just give them a push like this. (She pushes them: they +open: she pulls them to again.) One of them ought to be bolted +at the bottom; but the bolt's gone. + +RAINA (with dignity, reproving her). Thanks, Louka; but we must +do what we are told. (Louka makes a grimace.) Good-night. + +LOUKA (carelessly). Good-night. (She goes out, swaggering.) + + (Raina, left alone, goes to the chest of drawers, + and adores the portrait there with feelings that + are beyond all expression. She does not kiss it or + press it to her breast, or shew it any mark of + bodily affection; but she takes it in her hands + and elevates it like a priestess.) + +RAINA (looking up at the picture with worship.) Oh, I shall +never be unworthy of you any more, my hero--never, never, never. + + (She replaces it reverently, and selects a novel + from the little pile of books. She turns over the + leaves dreamily; finds her page; turns the book + inside out at it; and then, with a happy sigh, + gets into bed and prepares to read herself to + sleep. But before abandoning herself to fiction, + she raises her eyes once more, thinking of the + blessed reality and murmurs) + +My hero! my hero! + + (A distant shot breaks the quiet of the night + outside. She starts, listening; and two more + shots, much nearer, follow, startling her so that + she scrambles out of bed, and hastily blows out + the candle on the chest of drawers. Then, putting + her fingers in her ears, she runs to the + dressing-table and blows out the light there, and + hurries back to bed. The room is now in darkness: + nothing is visible but the glimmer of the light in + the pierced ball before the image, and the + starlight seen through the slits at the top of the + shutters. The firing breaks out again: there is a + startling fusillade quite close at hand. Whilst it + is still echoing, the shutters disappear, pulled + open from without, and for an instant the + rectangle of snowy starlight flashes out with the + figure of a man in black upon it. The shutters + close immediately and the room is dark again. But + the silence is now broken by the sound of panting. + Then there is a scrape; and the flame of a match + is seen in the middle of the room.) + +RAINA (crouching on the bed). Who's there? (The match is out +instantly.) Who's there? Who is that? + +A MAN'S VOICE (in the darkness, subduedly, but threateningly). +Sh--sh! Don't call out or you'll be shot. Be good; and no harm +will happen to you. (She is heard leaving her bed, and making +for the door.) Take care, there's no use in trying to run away. +Remember, if you raise your voice my pistol will go off. +(Commandingly.) Strike a light and let me see you. Do you hear? +(Another moment of silence and darkness. Then she is heard +retreating to the dressing-table. She lights a candle, and the +mystery is at an end. A man of about 35, in a deplorable plight, +bespattered with mud and blood and snow, his belt and the strap +of his revolver case keeping together the torn ruins of the blue +coat of a Servian artillery officer. As far as the candlelight +and his unwashed, unkempt condition make it possible to judge, +he is a man of middling stature and undistinguished appearance, +with strong neck and shoulders, a roundish, obstinate looking +head covered with short crisp bronze curls, clear quick blue +eyes and good brows and mouth, a hopelessly prosaic nose like +that of a strong-minded baby, trim soldierlike carriage and +energetic manner, and with all his wits about him in spite of +his desperate predicament--even with a sense of humor of it, +without, however, the least intention of trifling with it or +throwing away a chance. He reckons up what he can guess about +Raina--her age, her social position, her character, the extent +to which she is frightened--at a glance, and continues, more +politely but still most determinedly) Excuse my disturbing you; +but you recognise my uniform--Servian. If I'm caught I shall be +killed. (Determinedly.) Do you understand that? + +RAINA. Yes. + +MAN. Well, I don't intend to get killed if I can help it. (Still +more determinedly.) Do you understand that? (He locks the door +with a snap.) + +RAINA (disdainfully). I suppose not. (She draws herself up +superbly, and looks him straight in the face, saying with +emphasis) Some soldiers, I know, are afraid of death. + +MAN (with grim goodhumor). All of them, dear lady, all of them, +believe me. It is our duty to live as long as we can, and kill +as many of the enemy as we can. Now if you raise an alarm-- + +RAINA (cutting him short). You will shoot me. How do you know +that I am afraid to die? + +MAN (cunningly). Ah; but suppose I don't shoot you, what will +happen then? Why, a lot of your cavalry--the greatest +blackguards in your army--will burst into this pretty room of +yours and slaughter me here like a pig; for I'll fight like a +demon: they shan't get me into the street to amuse themselves +with: I know what they are. Are you prepared to receive that +sort of company in your present undress? (Raina, suddenly +conscious of her nightgown, instinctively shrinks and gathers it +more closely about her. He watches her, and adds, pitilessly) +It's rather scanty, eh? (She turns to the ottoman. He raises his +pistol instantly, and cries) Stop! (She stops.) Where are you +going? + +RAINA (with dignified patience). Only to get my cloak. + +MAN (darting to the ottoman and snatching the cloak). A good +idea. No: I'll keep the cloak: and you will take care that +nobody comes in and sees you without it. This is a better weapon +than the pistol. (He throws the pistol down on the ottoman.) + +RAINA (revolted). It is not the weapon of a gentleman! + +MAN. It's good enough for a man with only you to stand between +him and death. (As they look at one another for a moment, Raina +hardly able to believe that even a Servian officer can be so +cynically and selfishly unchivalrous, they are startled by a +sharp fusillade in the street. The chill of imminent death +hushes the man's voice as he adds) Do you hear? If you are going +to bring those scoundrels in on me you shall receive them as you +are. (Raina meets his eye with unflinching scorn. Suddenly he +starts, listening. There is a step outside. Someone tries the +door, and then knocks hurriedly and urgently at it. Raina looks +at the man, breathless. He throws up his head with the gesture +of a man who sees that it is all over with him, and, dropping +the manner which he has been assuming to intimidate her, flings +the cloak to her, exclaiming, sincerely and kindly) No use: I'm +done for. Quick! wrap yourself up: they're coming! + +RAINA (catching the cloak eagerly). Oh, thank you. (She wraps +herself up with great relief. He draws his sabre and turns to +the door, waiting.) + +LOUKA (outside, knocking). My lady, my lady! Get up, quick, and +open the door. + +RAINA (anxiously). What will you do? + +MAN (grimly). Never mind. Keep out of the way. It will not last +long. + +RAINA (impulsively). I'll help you. Hide yourself, oh, hide +yourself, quick, behind the curtain. (She seizes him by a torn +strip of his sleeve, and pulls him towards the window.) + +MAN (yielding to her). There is just half a chance, if you keep +your head. Remember: nine soldiers out of ten are born fools. +(He hides behind the curtain, looking out for a moment to say, +finally) If they find me, I promise you a fight--a devil of a +fight! (He disappears. Raina takes of the cloak and throws it +across the foot of the bed. Then with a sleepy, disturbed air, +she opens the door. Louka enters excitedly.) + +LOUKA. A man has been seen climbing up the water-pipe to your +balcony--a Servian. The soldiers want to search for him; and +they are so wild and drunk and furious. My lady says you are to +dress at once. + +RAINA (as if annoyed at being disturbed). They shall not search +here. Why have they been let in? + +CATHERINE (coming in hastily). Raina, darling, are you safe? +Have you seen anyone or heard anything? + +RAINA. I heard the shooting. Surely the soldiers will not dare +come in here? + +CATHERINE. I have found a Russian officer, thank Heaven: he +knows Sergius. (Speaking through the door to someone outside.) +Sir, will you come in now! My daughter is ready. + + (A young Russian officer, in Bulgarian uniform, + enters, sword in hand.) + +THE OFFICER. (with soft, feline politeness and stiff military +carriage). Good evening, gracious lady; I am sorry to intrude, +but there is a fugitive hiding on the balcony. Will you and the +gracious lady your mother please to withdraw whilst we search? + +RAINA (petulantly). Nonsense, sir, you can see that there is no +one on the balcony. (She throws the shutters wide open and +stands with her back to the curtain where the man is hidden, +pointing to the moonlit balcony. A couple of shots are fired +right under the window, and a bullet shatters the glass opposite +Raina, who winks and gasps, but stands her ground, whilst +Catherine screams, and the officer rushes to the balcony.) + +THE OFFICER. (on the balcony, shouting savagely down to the +street). Cease firing there, you fools: do you hear? Cease +firing, damn you. (He glares down for a moment; then turns to +Raina, trying to resume his polite manner.) Could anyone have +got in without your knowledge? Were you asleep? + +RAINA. No, I have not been to bed. + +THE OFFICER. (impatiently, coming back into the room). Your +neighbours have their heads so full of runaway Servians that +they see them everywhere. (Politely.) Gracious lady, a thousand +pardons. Good-night. (Military bow, which Raina returns coldly. +Another to Catherine, who follows him out. Raina closes the +shutters. She turns and sees Louka, who has been watching the +scene curiously.) + +RAINA. Don't leave my mother, Louka, whilst the soldiers are +here. (Louka glances at Raina, at the ottoman, at the curtain; +then purses her lips secretively, laughs to herself, and goes +out. Raina follows her to the door, shuts it behind her with a +slam, and locks it violently. The man immediately steps out from +behind the curtain, sheathing his sabre, and dismissing the +danger from his mind in a businesslike way.) + +MAN. A narrow shave; but a miss is as good as a mile. Dear young +lady, your servant until death. I wish for your sake I had +joined the Bulgarian army instead of the Servian. I am not a +native Servian. + +RAINA (haughtily). No, you are one of the Austrians who set the +Servians on to rob us of our national liberty, and who officer +their army for them. We hate them! + +MAN. Austrian! not I. Don't hate me, dear young lady. I am only +a Swiss, fighting merely as a professional soldier. I joined +Servia because it was nearest to me. Be generous: you've beaten +us hollow. + +RAINA. Have I not been generous? + +MAN. Noble!--heroic! But I'm not saved yet. This particular rush +will soon pass through; but the pursuit will go on all night by +fits and starts. I must take my chance to get off during a quiet +interval. You don't mind my waiting just a minute or two, do +you? + +RAINA. Oh, no: I am sorry you will have to go into danger again. +(Motioning towards ottoman.) Won't you sit--(She breaks off +with an irrepressible cry of alarm as she catches sight of the +pistol. The man, all nerves, shies like a frightened horse.) + +MAN (irritably). Don't frighten me like that. What is it? + +RAINA. Your pistol! It was staring that officer in the face all +the time. What an escape! + +MAN (vexed at being unnecessarily terrified). Oh, is that all? + +RAINA (staring at him rather superciliously, conceiving a +poorer and poorer opinion of him, and feeling proportionately +more and more at her ease with him). I am sorry I frightened +you. (She takes up the pistol and hands it to him.) Pray take it +to protect yourself against me. + +MAN (grinning wearily at the sarcasm as he takes the pistol). +No use, dear young lady: there's nothing in it. It's not loaded. +(He makes a grimace at it, and drops it disparagingly into his +revolver case.) + +RAINA. Load it by all means. + +MAN. I've no ammunition. What use are cartridges in battle? I +always carry chocolate instead; and I finished the last cake of +that yesterday. + +RAINA (outraged in her most cherished ideals of manhood). +Chocolate! Do you stuff your pockets with sweets--like a +schoolboy--even in the field? + +MAN. Yes. Isn't it contemptible? + + (Raina stares at him, unable to utter her + feelings. Then she sails away scornfully to the + chest of drawers, and returns with the box of + confectionery in her hand.) + +RAINA. Allow me. I am sorry I have eaten them all except these. +(She offers him the box.) + +MAN (ravenously). You're an angel! (He gobbles the comfits.) +Creams! Delicious! (He looks anxiously to see whether there are +any more. There are none. He accepts the inevitable with +pathetic goodhumor, and says, with grateful emotion) Bless you, +dear lady. You can always tell an old soldier by the inside of +his holsters and cartridge boxes. The young ones carry pistols +and cartridges; the old ones, grub. Thank you. (He hands back +the box. She snatches it contemptuously from him and throws it +away. This impatient action is so sudden that he shies again.) +Ugh! Don't do things so suddenly, gracious lady. Don't revenge +yourself because I frightened you just now. + +RAINA (superbly). Frighten me! Do you know, sir, that though I +am only a woman, I think I am at heart as brave as you. + +MAN. I should think so. You haven't been under fire for three +days as I have. I can stand two days without shewing it much; +but no man can stand three days: I'm as nervous as a mouse. (He +sits down on the ottoman, and takes his head in his hands.) +Would you like to see me cry? + +RAINA (quickly). No. + +MAN. If you would, all you have to do is to scold me just as if +I were a little boy and you my nurse. If I were in camp now +they'd play all sorts of tricks on me. + +RAINA (a little moved). I'm sorry. I won't scold you. (Touched +by the sympathy in her tone, he raises his head and looks +gratefully at her: she immediately draws hack and says stiffly) +You must excuse me: our soldiers are not like that. (She moves +away from the ottoman.) + +MAN. Oh, yes, they are. There are only two sorts of soldiers: +old ones and young ones. I've served fourteen years: half of +your fellows never smelt powder before. Why, how is it that +you've just beaten us? Sheer ignorance of the art of war, +nothing else. (Indignantly.) I never saw anything so +unprofessional. + +RAINA (ironically). Oh, was it unprofessional to beat you? + +MAN. Well, come, is it professional to throw a regiment of +cavalry on a battery of machine guns, with the dead certainty +that if the guns go off not a horse or man will ever get within +fifty yards of the fire? I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw +it. + +RAINA (eagerly turning to him, as all her enthusiasm and her +dream of glory rush back on her). Did you see the great cavalry +charge? Oh, tell me about it. Describe it to me. + +MAN. You never saw a cavalry charge, did you? + +RAINA. How could I? + +MAN. Ah, perhaps not--of course. Well, it's a funny sight. It's +like slinging a handful of peas against a window pane: first one +comes; then two or three close behind him; and then all the rest +in a lump. + +RAINA (her eyes dilating as she raises her clasped hands +ecstatically). Yes, first One!--the bravest of the brave! + +MAN (prosaically). Hm! you should see the poor devil pulling at +his horse. + +RAINA. Why should he pull at his horse? + +MAN (impatient of so stupid a question). It's running away with +him, of course: do you suppose the fellow wants to get there +before the others and be killed? Then they all come. You can +tell the young ones by their wildness and their slashing. The +old ones come bunched up under the number one guard: they know +that they are mere projectiles, and that it's no use trying to +fight. The wounds are mostly broken knees, from the horses +cannoning together. + +RAINA. Ugh! But I don't believe the first man is a coward. I +believe he is a hero! + +MAN (goodhumoredly). That's what you'd have said if you'd seen +the first man in the charge to-day. + +RAINA (breathless). Ah, I knew it! Tell me--tell me about him. + +MAN. He did it like an operatic tenor--a regular handsome +fellow, with flashing eyes and lovely moustache, shouting a +war-cry and charging like Don Quixote at the windmills. We +nearly burst with laughter at him; but when the sergeant ran up +as white as a sheet, and told us they'd sent us the wrong +cartridges, and that we couldn't fire a shot for the next ten +minutes, we laughed at the other side of our mouths. I never +felt so sick in my life, though I've been in one or two very +tight places. And I hadn't even a revolver cartridge--nothing +but chocolate. We'd no bayonets--nothing. Of course, they just +cut us to bits. And there was Don Quixote flourishing like a +drum major, thinking he'd done the cleverest thing ever known, +whereas he ought to be courtmartialled for it. Of all the fools +ever let loose on a field of battle, that man must be the very +maddest. He and his regiment simply committed suicide--only the +pistol missed fire, that's all. + +RAINA (deeply wounded, but steadfastly loyal to her ideals). +Indeed! Would you know him again if you saw him? + +MAN. Shall I ever forget him. (She again goes to the chest of +drawers. He watches her with a vague hope that she may have +something else for him to eat. She takes the portrait from its +stand and brings it to him.) + +RAINA. That is a photograph of the gentleman--the patriot and +hero--to whom I am betrothed. + +MAN (looking at it). I'm really very sorry. (Looking at her.) +Was it fair to lead me on? (He looks at the portrait again.) +Yes: that's him: not a doubt of it. (He stifles a laugh.) + +RAINA (quickly). Why do you laugh? + +MAN (shamefacedly, but still greatly tickled). I didn't laugh, +I assure you. At least I didn't mean to. But when I think of him +charging the windmills and thinking he was doing the finest +thing--(chokes with suppressed laughter). + +RAINA (sternly). Give me back the portrait, sir. + +MAN (with sincere remorse). Of course. Certainly. I'm really +very sorry. (She deliberately kisses it, and looks him straight +in the face, before returning to the chest of drawers to replace +it. He follows her, apologizing.) Perhaps I'm quite wrong, you +know: no doubt I am. Most likely he had got wind of the +cartridge business somehow, and knew it was a safe job. + +RAINA. That is to say, he was a pretender and a coward! You did +not dare say that before. + +MAN (with a comic gesture of despair). It's no use, dear lady: +I can't make you see it from the professional point of view. (As +he turns away to get back to the ottoman, the firing begins +again in the distance.) + +RAINA (sternly, as she sees him listening to the shots). So +much the better for you. + +MAN (turning). How? + +RAINA. You are my enemy; and you are at my mercy. What would I +do if I were a professional soldier? + +MAN. Ah, true, dear young lady: you're always right. I know how +good you have been to me: to my last hour I shall remember those +three chocolate creams. It was unsoldierly; but it was angelic. + +RAINA (coldly). Thank you. And now I will do a soldierly thing. +You cannot stay here after what you have just said about my +future husband; but I will go out on the balcony and see whether +it is safe for you to climb down into the street. (She turns to +the window.) + +MAN (changing countenance). Down that waterpipe! Stop! Wait! I +can't! I daren't! The very thought of it makes me giddy. I came +up it fast enough with death behind me. But to face it now in +cold blood!--(He sinks on the ottoman.) It's no use: I give up: +I'm beaten. Give the alarm. (He drops his head in his hands in +the deepest dejection.) + +RAINA (disarmed by pity). Come, don't be disheartened. (She +stoops over him almost maternally: he shakes his head.) Oh, you +are a very poor soldier--a chocolate cream soldier. Come, cheer +up: it takes less courage to climb down than to face +capture--remember that. + +MAN (dreamily, lulled by her voice). No, capture only means +death; and death is sleep--oh, sleep, sleep, sleep, undisturbed +sleep! Climbing down the pipe means doing something--exerting +myself--thinking! Death ten times over first. + +RAINA (softly and wonderingly, catching the rhythm of his +weariness). Are you so sleepy as that? + +MAN. I've not had two hours' undisturbed sleep since the war +began. I'm on the staff: you don't know what that means. I +haven't closed my eyes for thirty-six hours. + +RAINA (desperately). But what am I to do with you. + +MAN (staggering up). Of course I must do something. (He shakes +himself; pulls himself together; and speaks with rallied vigour +and courage.) You see, sleep or no sleep, hunger or no hunger, +tired or not tired, you can always do a thing when you know it +must be done. Well, that pipe must be got down--(He hits himself +on the chest, and adds)--Do you hear that, you chocolate cream +soldier? (He turns to the window.) + +RAINA (anxiously). But if you fall? + +MAN. I shall sleep as if the stones were a feather bed. +Good-bye. (He makes boldly for the window, and his hand is on +the shutter when there is a terrible burst of firing in the +street beneath.) + +RAINA (rushing to him). Stop! (She catches him by the shoulder, +and turns him quite round.) They'll kill you. + +MAN (coolly, but attentively). Never mind: this sort of thing +is all in my day's work. I'm bound to take my chance. +(Decisively.) Now do what I tell you. Put out the candles, so +that they shan't see the light when I open the shutters. And +keep away from the window, whatever you do. If they see me, +they're sure to have a shot at me. + +RAINA (clinging to him). They're sure to see you: it's bright +moonlight. I'll save you--oh, how can you be so indifferent? You +want me to save you, don't you? + +MAN. I really don't want to be troublesome. (She shakes him in +her impatience.) I am not indifferent, dear young lady, I assure +you. But how is it to be done? + +RAINA. Come away from the window--please. (She coaxes him back +to the middle of the room. He submits humbly. She releases him, +and addresses him patronizingly.) Now listen. You must trust to +our hospitality. You do not yet know in whose house you are. I +am a Petkoff. + +MAN. What's that? + +RAINA (rather indignantly). I mean that I belong to the family +of the Petkoffs, the richest and best known in our country. + +MAN. Oh, yes, of course. I beg your pardon. The Petkoffs, to be +sure. How stupid of me! + +RAINA. You know you never heard of them until this minute. How +can you stoop to pretend? + +MAN. Forgive me: I'm too tired to think; and the change of +subject was too much for me. Don't scold me. + +RAINA. I forgot. It might make you cry. (He nods, quite +seriously. She pouts and then resumes her patronizing tone.) I +must tell you that my father holds the highest command of any +Bulgarian in our army. He is (proudly) a Major. + +MAN (pretending to be deeply impressed). A Major! Bless me! +Think of that! + +RAINA. You shewed great ignorance in thinking that it was +necessary to climb up to the balcony, because ours is the only +private house that has two rows of windows. There is a flight of +stairs inside to get up and down by. + +MAN. Stairs! How grand! You live in great luxury indeed, dear +young lady. + +RAINA. Do you know what a library is? + +MAN. A library? A roomful of books. + +RAINA. Yes, we have one, the only one in Bulgaria. + +MAN. Actually a real library! I should like to see that. + +RAINA (affectedly). I tell you these things to shew you that +you are not in the house of ignorant country folk who would kill +you the moment they saw your Servian uniform, but among +civilized people. We go to Bucharest every year for the opera +season; and I have spent a whole month in Vienna. + +MAN. I saw that, dear young lady. I saw at once that you knew +the world. + +RAINA. Have you ever seen the opera of Ernani? + +MAN. Is that the one with the devil in it in red velvet, and a +soldier's chorus? + +RAINA (contemptuously). No! + +MAN (stifling a heavy sigh of weariness). Then I don't know it. + +RAINA. I thought you might have remembered the great scene where +Ernani, flying from his foes just as you are tonight, takes +refuge in the castle of his bitterest enemy, an old Castilian +noble. The noble refuses to give him up. His guest is sacred to +him. + +MAN (quickly waking up a little). Have your people got that +notion? + +RAINA (with dignity). My mother and I can understand that +notion, as you call it. And if instead of threatening me with +your pistol as you did, you had simply thrown yourself as a +fugitive on our hospitality, you would have been as safe as in +your father's house. + +MAN. Quite sure? + +RAINA (turning her back on him in disgust.) Oh, it is useless +to try and make you understand. + +MAN. Don't be angry: you see how awkward it would be for me if +there was any mistake. My father is a very hospitable man: he +keeps six hotels; but I couldn't trust him as far as that. What +about YOUR father? + +RAINA. He is away at Slivnitza fighting for his country. I +answer for your safety. There is my hand in pledge of it. Will +that reassure you? (She offers him her hand.) + +MAN (looking dubiously at his own hand). Better not touch my +hand, dear young lady. I must have a wash first. + +RAINA (touched). That is very nice of you. I see that you are a +gentleman. + +MAN (puzzled). Eh? + +RAINA. You must not think I am surprised. Bulgarians of really +good standing--people in OUR position--wash their hands nearly +every day. But I appreciate your delicacy. You may take my hand. +(She offers it again.) + +MAN (kissing it with his hands behind his back). Thanks, +gracious young lady: I feel safe at last. And now would you mind +breaking the news to your mother? I had better not stay here +secretly longer than is necessary. + +RAINA. If you will be so good as to keep perfectly still whilst +I am away. + +MAN. Certainly. (He sits down on the ottoman.) + + (Raina goes to the bed and wraps herself in the + fur cloak. His eyes close. She goes to the door, + but on turning for a last look at him, sees that + he is dropping of to sleep.) + +RAINA (at the door). You are not going asleep, are you? +(He murmurs inarticulately: she runs to him and shakes him.) +Do you hear? Wake up: you are falling asleep. + +MAN. Eh? Falling aslee--? Oh, no, not the least in +the world: I was only thinking. It's all right: I'm wide +awake. + +RAINA (severely). Will you please stand up while I am +away. (He rises reluctantly.) All the time, mind. + +MAN (standing unsteadily). Certainly--certainly: you +may depend on me. + + (Raina looks doubtfully at him. He smiles + foolishly. She goes reluctantly, turning + again at the door, and almost catching him + in the act of yawning. She goes out.) + +MAN (drowsily). Sleep, sleep, sleep, sleep, slee--(The +words trail of into a murmur. He wakes again with a +shock on the point of falling.) Where am I? That's what +I want to know: where am I? Must keep awake. Nothing +keeps me awake except danger--remember that--(intently) +danger, danger, danger, dan-- Where's danger? Must +find it. (He starts of vaguely around the room in search of +it.) What am I looking for? Sleep--danger--don't know. +(He stumbles against the bed.) Ah, yes: now I know. All +right now. I'm to go to bed, but not to sleep--be sure +not to sleep--because of danger. Not to lie down, either, +only sit down. (He sits on the bed. A blissful expression +comes into his face.) Ah! (With a happy sigh he sinks back +at full length; lifts his boots into the bed with a final +effort; and falls fast asleep instantly.) + + (Catherine comes in, followed by Raina.) + +RAINA (looking at the ottoman). He's gone! I left him +here. + +CATHERINE, Here! Then he must have climbed down from the-- + +RAINA (seeing him). Oh! (She points.) + +CATHERINE (scandalized). Well! (She strides to the left +side of the bed, Raina following and standing opposite her on +the right.) He's fast asleep. The brute! + +RAINA (anxiously). Sh! + +CATHERINE (shaking him). Sir! (Shaking him again, +harder.) Sir!! (Vehemently shaking very bard.) Sir!!! + +RAINA (catching her arm). Don't, mamma: the poor dear +is worn out. Let him sleep. + +CATHERINE (letting him go and turning amazed to Raina). +The poor dear! Raina!!! (She looks sternly at her +daughter. The man sleeps profoundly.) + + + + + + +ACT II + + The sixth of March, 1886. In the garden of major + Petkoff's house. It is a fine spring morning; and + the garden looks fresh and pretty. Beyond the + paling the tops of a couple of minarets can he + seen, shewing that there it a valley there, with + the little town in it. A few miles further the + Balkan mountains rise and shut in the view. Within + the garden the side of the house is seen on the + right, with a garden door reached by a little + flight of steps. On the left the stable yard, with + its gateway, encroaches on the garden. There are + fruit bushes along the paling and house, covered + with washing hung out to dry. A path runs by the + house, and rises by two steps at the corner where + it turns out of the right along the front. In the + middle a small table, with two bent wood chairs at + it, is laid for breakfast with Turkish coffee pot, + cups, rolls, etc.; but the cups have been used and + the bread broken. There is a wooden garden seat + against the wall on the left. + + Louka, smoking a cigaret, is standing between the + table and the house, turning her back with angry + disdain on a man-servant who is lecturing her. He + is a middle-aged man of cool temperament and low + but clear and keen intelligence, with the + complacency of the servant who values himself on + his rank in servility, and the imperturbability of + the accurate calculator who has no illusions. He + wears a white Bulgarian costume jacket with + decorated harder, sash, wide knickerbockers, and + decorated gaiters. His head is shaved up to the + crown, giving him a high Japanese forehead. His + name is Nicola. + +NICOLA. Be warned in time, Louka: mend your manners. I know the +mistress. She is so grand that she never dreams that any servant +could dare to be disrespectful to her; but if she once suspects +that you are defying her, out you go. + +LOUKA. I do defy her. I will defy her. What do I care for her? + +NICOLA. If you quarrel with the family, I never can marry you. +It's the same as if you quarrelled with me! + +LOUKA. You take her part against me, do you? + +NICOLA (sedately). I shall always be dependent on the good will +of the family. When I leave their service and start a shop in +Sofea, their custom will be half my capital: their bad word +would ruin me. + +LOUKA. You have no spirit. I should like to see them dare say a +word against me! + +NICOLA (pityingly). I should have expected more sense from you, +Louka. But you're young, you're young! + +LOUKA. Yes; and you like me the better for it, don't you? But I +know some family secrets they wouldn't care to have told, young +as I am. Let them quarrel with me if they dare! + +NICOLA (with compassionate superiority). Do you know what they +would do if they heard you talk like that? + +LOUKA. What could they do? + +NICOLA. Discharge you for untruthfulness. Who would believe any +stories you told after that? Who would give you another +situation? Who in this house would dare be seen speaking to you +ever again? How long would your father be left on his little +farm? (She impatiently throws away the end of her cigaret, and +stamps on it.) Child, you don't know the power such high people +have over the like of you and me when we try to rise out of our +poverty against them. (He goes close to her and lowers his +voice.) Look at me, ten years in their service. Do you think I +know no secrets? I know things about the mistress that she +wouldn't have the master know for a thousand levas. I know +things about him that she wouldn't let him hear the last of for +six months if I blabbed them to her. I know things about Raina +that would break off her match with Sergius if-- + +LOUKA (turning on him quickly). How do you know? I never told +you! + +NICOLA (opening his eyes cunningly). So that's your little +secret, is it? I thought it might be something like that. Well, +you take my advice, and be respectful; and make the mistress +feel that no matter what you know or don't know, they can depend +on you to hold your tongue and serve the family faithfully. +That's what they like; and that's how you'll make most out of +them. + +LOUKA (with searching scorn). You have the soul of a servant, +Nicola. + +NICOLA (complacently). Yes: that's the secret of success in +service. + + (A loud knocking with a whip handle on a wooden + door, outside on the left, is heard.) + +MALE VOICE OUTSIDE. Hollo! Hollo there! Nicola! + +LOUKA. Master! back from the war! + +NICOLA (quickly). My word for it, Louka, the war's over. Off +with you and get some fresh coffee. (He runs out into the stable +yard.) + +LOUKA (as she puts the coffee pot and the cups upon the tray, +and carries it into the house). You'll never put the soul of a +servant into me. + + (Major Petkoff comes from the stable yard, + followed by Nicola. He is a cheerful, excitable, + insignificant, unpolished man of about 50, + naturally unambitious except as to his income and + his importance in local society, but just now + greatly pleased with the military rank which the + war has thrust on him as a man of consequence in + his town. The fever of plucky patriotism which the + Servian attack roused in all the Bulgarians has + pulled him through the war; but he is obviously + glad to be home again.) + +PETKOFF (pointing to the table with his whip). Breakfast out +here, eh? + +NICOLA. Yes, sir. The mistress and Miss Raina have just gone in. + +PETKOFF (fitting down and taking a roll). Go in and say I've +come; and get me some fresh coffee. + +NICOLA. It's coming, sir. (He goes to the house door. Louka, +with fresh coffee, a clean cup, and a brandy bottle on her tray +meets him.) Have you told the mistress? + +LOUKA. Yes: she's coming. + + (Nicola goes into the house. Louka brings the + coffee to the table.) + +PETKOFF. Well, the Servians haven't run away with you, have +they? + +LOUKA. No, sir. + +PETKOFF. That's right. Have you brought me some cognac? + +LOUKA (putting the bottle on the table). Here, sir. + +PETKOFF. That's right. (He pours some into his coffee.) + + (Catherine who has at this early hour made only a + very perfunctory toilet, and wears a Bulgarian + apron over a once brilliant, but now half worn out + red dressing gown, and a colored handkerchief tied + over her thick black hair, with Turkish slippers + on her bare feet, comes from the house, looking + astonishingly handsome and stately under all the + circumstances. Louka goes into the house.) + +CATHERINE. My dear Paul, what a surprise for us. (She stoops +over the back of his chair to kiss him.) Have they brought you +fresh coffee? + +PETKOFF. Yes, Louka's been looking after me. The war's over. The +treaty was signed three days ago at Bucharest; and the decree +for our army to demobilize was issued yesterday. + +CATHERINE (springing erect, with flashing eyes). The war over! +Paul: have you let the Austrians force you to make peace? + +PETKOFF (submissively). My dear: they didn't consult me. What +could _I_ do? (She sits down and turns away from him.) But of +course we saw to it that the treaty was an honorable one. It +declares peace-- + +CATHERINE (outraged). Peace! + +PETKOFF (appeasing her).--but not friendly relations: remember +that. They wanted to put that in; but I insisted on its being +struck out. What more could I do? + +CATHERINE. You could have annexed Servia and made Prince +Alexander Emperor of the Balkans. That's what I would have done. + +PETKOFF. I don't doubt it in the least, my dear. But I should +have had to subdue the whole Austrian Empire first; and that +would have kept me too long away from you. I missed you greatly. + +CATHERINE (relenting). Ah! (Stretches her hand affectionately +across the table to squeeze his.) + +PETKOFF. And how have you been, my dear? + +CATHERINE. Oh, my usual sore throats, that's all. + +PETKOFF (with conviction). That comes from washing your neck +every day. I've often told you so. + +CATHERINE. Nonsense, Paul! + +PETKOFF (over his coffee and cigaret). I don't believe in going +too far with these modern customs. All this washing can't be +good for the health: it's not natural. There was an Englishman +at Phillipopolis who used to wet himself all over with cold +water every morning when he got up. Disgusting! It all comes +from the English: their climate makes them so dirty that they +have to be perpetually washing themselves. Look at my father: he +never had a bath in his life; and he lived to be ninety-eight, +the healthiest man in Bulgaria. I don't mind a good wash once a +week to keep up my position; but once a day is carrying the +thing to a ridiculous extreme. + +CATHERINE. You are a barbarian at heart still, Paul. I hope you +behaved yourself before all those Russian officers. + +PETKOFF. I did my best. I took care to let them know that we had +a library. + +CATHERINE. Ah; but you didn't tell them that we have an electric +bell in it? I have had one put up. + +PETKOFF. What's an electric bell? + +CATHERINE. You touch a button; something tinkles in the kitchen; +and then Nicola comes up. + +PETKOFF. Why not shout for him? + +CATHERINE. Civilized people never shout for their servants. I've +learnt that while you were away. + +PETKOFF. Well, I'll tell you something I've learnt, too. +Civilized people don't hang out their washing to dry where +visitors can see it; so you'd better have all that (indicating +the clothes on the bushes) put somewhere else. + +CATHERINE. Oh, that's absurd, Paul: I don't believe really +refined people notice such things. + + (Someone is heard knocking at the stable gates.) + +PETKOFF. There's Sergius. (Shouting.) Hollo, Nicola! + +CATHERINE. Oh, don't shout, Paul: it really isn't nice. + +PETKOFF. Bosh! (He shouts louder than before.) Nicola! + +NICOLA (appearing at the house door). Yes, sir. + +PETKOFF. If that is Major Saranoff, bring him round this way. +(He pronounces the name with the stress on the second +syllable--Sarah-noff.) + +NICOLA. Yes, sir. (He goes into the stable yard.) + +PETKOFF. You must talk to him, my dear, until Raina takes him +off our hands. He bores my life out about our not promoting +him--over my head, mind you. + +CATHERINE. He certainly ought to be promoted when he marries +Raina. Besides, the country should insist on having at least one +native general. + +PETKOFF. Yes, so that he could throw away whole brigades instead +of regiments. It's no use, my dear: he has not the slightest +chance of promotion until we are quite sure that the peace will +be a lasting one. + +NICOLA (at the gate, announcing). Major Sergius Saranoff! (He +goes into the house and returns presently with a third chair, +which he places at the table. He then withdraws.) + + (Major Sergius Saranoff, the original of the + portrait in Raina's room, is a tall, romantically + handsome man, with the physical hardihood, the + high spirit, and the susceptible imagination of an + untamed mountaineer chieftain. But his remarkable + personal distinction is of a characteristically + civilized type. The ridges of his eyebrows, + curving with a ram's-horn twist round the marked + projections at the outer corners, his jealously + observant eye, his nose, thin, keen, and + apprehensive in spite of the pugnacious high + bridge and large nostril, his assertive chin, + would not be out of place in a Paris salon. In + short, the clever, imaginative barbarian has an + acute critical faculty which has been thrown into + intense activity by the arrival of western + civilization in the Balkans; and the result is + precisely what the advent of nineteenth-century + thought first produced in England: to-wit, + Byronism. By his brooding on the perpetual + failure, not only of others, but of himself, to + live up to his imaginative ideals, his consequent + cynical scorn for humanity, the jejune credulity + as to the absolute validity of his ideals and the + unworthiness of the world in disregarding them, + his wincings and mockeries under the sting of the + petty disillusions which every hour spent among + men brings to his infallibly quick observation, he + has acquired the half tragic, half ironic air, the + mysterious moodiness, the suggestion of a strange + and terrible history that has left him nothing but + undying remorse, by which Childe Harold fascinated + the grandmothers of his English contemporaries. + Altogether it is clear that here or nowhere is + Raina's ideal hero. Catherine is hardly less + enthusiastic, and much less reserved in shewing + her enthusiasm. As he enters from the stable gate, + she rises effusively to greet him. Petkoff is + distinctly less disposed to make a fuss about + him.) + +PETKOFF. Here already, Sergius. Glad to see you! + +CATHERINE. My dear Sergius!(She holds out both her hands.) + +SERGIUS (kissing them with scrupulous gallantry). My dear +mother, if I may call you so. + +PETKOFF (drily). Mother-in-law, Sergius; mother-in-law! Sit +down, and have some coffee. + +SERGIUS. Thank you, none for me. (He gets away from the table +with a certain distaste for Petkoff's enjoyment of it, and posts +himself with conscious grace against the rail of the steps +leading to the house.) + +CATHERINE. You look superb--splendid. The campaign has improved +you. Everybody here is mad about you. We were all wild with +enthusiasm about that magnificent cavalry charge. + +SERGIUS (with grave irony). Madam: it was the cradle and the +grave of my military reputation. + +CATHERINE. How so? + +SERGIUS. I won the battle the wrong way when our worthy Russian +generals were losing it the right way. That upset their plans, +and wounded their self-esteem. Two of their colonels got their +regiments driven back on the correct principles of scientific +warfare. Two major-generals got killed strictly according to +military etiquette. Those two colonels are now major-generals; +and I am still a simple major. + +CATHERINE. You shall not remain so, Sergius. The women are on +your side; and they will see that justice is done you. + +SERGIUS. It is too late. I have only waited for the peace to +send in my resignation. + +PETKOFF (dropping his cup in his amazement). Your resignation! + +CATHERINE. Oh, you must withdraw it! + +SERGIUS (with resolute, measured emphasis, folding his arms). I +never withdraw! + +PETKOFF (vexed). Now who could have supposed you were going to +do such a thing? + +SERGIUS (with fire). Everyone that knew me. But enough of +myself and my affairs. How is Raina; and where is Raina? + +RAINA (suddenly coming round the corner of the house and +standing at the top of the steps in the path). Raina is here. +(She makes a charming picture as they all turn to look at her. +She wears an underdress of pale green silk, draped with an +overdress of thin ecru canvas embroidered with gold. On her head +she wears a pretty Phrygian cap of gold tinsel. Sergius, with an +exclamation of pleasure, goes impulsively to meet her. She +stretches out her hand: he drops chivalrously on one knee and +kisses it.) + +PETKOFF (aside to Catherine, beaming with parental pride). +Pretty, isn't it? She always appears at the right moment. + +CATHERINE (impatiently). Yes: she listens for it. It is an +abominable habit. + + (Sergius leads Raina forward with splendid gallantry, + as if she were a queen. When they come to the + table, she turns to him with a bend of the head; + he bows; and thus they separate, he coming to his + place, and she going behind her father's chair.) + +RAINA (stooping and kissing her father). Dear father! Welcome +home! + +PETKOFF (patting her cheek). My little pet girl. (He kisses +her; she goes to the chair left by Nicola for Sergius, and sits +down.) + +CATHERINE. And so you're no longer a soldier, Sergius. + +SERGIUS. I am no longer a soldier. Soldiering, my dear madam, is +the coward's art of attacking mercilessly when you are strong, +and keeping out of harm's way when you are weak. That is the +whole secret of successful fighting. Get your enemy at a +disadvantage; and never, on any account, fight him on equal +terms. Eh, Major! + +PETKOFF. They wouldn't let us make a fair stand-up fight of it. +However, I suppose soldiering has to be a trade like any other +trade. + +SERGIUS. Precisely. But I have no ambition to succeed as a +tradesman; so I have taken the advice of that bagman of a +captain that settled the exchange of prisoners with us at +Peerot, and given it up. + +PETKOFF. What, that Swiss fellow? Sergius: I've often thought of +that exchange since. He over-reached us about those horses. + +SERGIUS. Of course he over-reached us. His father was a hotel +and livery stable keeper; and he owed his first step to his +knowledge of horse-dealing. (With mock enthusiasm.) Ah, he was a +soldier--every inch a soldier! If only I had bought the horses +for my regiment instead of foolishly leading it into danger, I +should have been a field-marshal now! + +CATHERINE. A Swiss? What was he doing in the Servian army? + +PETKOFF. A volunteer of course--keen on picking up his +profession. (Chuckling.) We shouldn't have been able to begin +fighting if these foreigners hadn't shewn us how to do it: we +knew nothing about it; and neither did the Servians. Egad, +there'd have been no war without them. + +RAINA. Are there many Swiss officers in the Servian Army? + +PETKOFF. No--all Austrians, just as our officers were all +Russians. This was the only Swiss I came across. I'll never +trust a Swiss again. He cheated us--humbugged us into giving +him fifty able bodied men for two hundred confounded worn out +chargers. They weren't even eatable! + +SERGIUS. We were two children in the hands of that consummate +soldier, Major: simply two innocent little children. + +RAINA. What was he like? + +CATHERINE. Oh, Raina, what a silly question! + +SERGIUS. He was like a commercial traveller in uniform. +Bourgeois to his boots. + +PETKOFF (grinning). Sergius: tell Catherine that queer story +his friend told us about him--how he escaped after Slivnitza. +You remember?--about his being hid by two women. + +SERGIUS (with bitter irony). Oh, yes, quite a romance. He was +serving in the very battery I so unprofessionally charged. Being +a thorough soldier, he ran away like the rest of them, with our +cavalry at his heels. To escape their attentions, he had the +good taste to take refuge in the chamber of some patriotic young +Bulgarian lady. The young lady was enchanted by his persuasive +commercial traveller's manners. She very modestly entertained +him for an hour or so and then called in her mother lest her +conduct should appear unmaidenly. The old lady was equally +fascinated; and the fugitive was sent on his way in the morning, +disguised in an old coat belonging to the master of the house, +who was away at the war. + +RAINA (rising with marked stateliness). Your life in the camp +has made you coarse, Sergius. I did not think you would have +repeated such a story before me. (She turns away coldly.) + +CATHERINE (also rising). She is right, Sergius. If such women +exist, we should be spared the knowledge of them. + +PETKOFF. Pooh! nonsense! what does it matter? + +SERGIUS (ashamed). No, Petkoff: I was wrong. (To Raina, with +earnest humility.) I beg your pardon. I have behaved abominably. +Forgive me, Raina. (She bows reservedly.) And you, too, madam. +(Catherine bows graciously and sits down. He proceeds solemnly, +again addressing Raina.) The glimpses I have had of the seamy +side of life during the last few months have made me cynical; +but I should not have brought my cynicism here--least of all +into your presence, Raina. I--(Here, turning to the others, he +is evidently about to begin a long speech when the Major +interrupts him.) + +PETKOFF. Stuff and nonsense, Sergius. That's quite enough fuss +about nothing: a soldier's daughter should be able to stand up +without flinching to a little strong conversation. (He rises.) +Come: it's time for us to get to business. We have to make up +our minds how those three regiments are to get back to +Phillipopolis:--there's no forage for them on the Sophia route. +(He goes towards the house.) Come along. (Sergius is about to +follow him when Catherine rises and intervenes.) + +CATHERINE. Oh, Paul, can't you spare Sergius for a few moments? +Raina has hardly seen him yet. Perhaps I can help you to settle +about the regiments. + +SERGIUS (protesting). My dear madam, impossible: you-- + +CATHERINE (stopping him playfully). You stay here, my dear +Sergius: there's no hurry. I have a word or two to say to Paul. +(Sergius instantly bows and steps back.) Now, dear (taking +Petkoff's arm), come and see the electric bell. + +PETKOFF. Oh, very well, very well. (They go into the house +together affectionately. Sergius, left alone with Raina, looks +anxiously at her, fearing that she may be still offended. She +smiles, and stretches out her arms to him.) + + (Exit R. into house, followed by Catherine.) + +SERGIUS (hastening to her, but refraining from touching her +without express permission). Am I forgiven? + +RAINA (placing her hands on his shoulder as she looks up at him +with admiration and worship). My hero! My king. + +SERGIUS. My queen! (He kisses her on the forehead with holy +awe.) + +RAINA. How I have envied you, Sergius! You have been out in the +world, on the field of battle, able to prove yourself there +worthy of any woman in the world; whilst I have had to sit at +home inactive,--dreaming--useless--doing nothing that could +give me the right to call myself worthy of any man. + +SERGIUS. Dearest, all my deeds have been yours. You inspired me. +I have gone through the war like a knight in a tournament with +his lady looking on at him! + +RAINA. And you have never been absent from my thoughts for a +moment. (Very solemnly.) Sergius: I think we two have found the +higher love. When I think of you, I feel that I could never do a +base deed, or think an ignoble thought. + +SERGIUS. My lady, and my saint! (Clasping her reverently.) + +RAINA (returning his embrace). My lord and my g-- + +SERGIUS. Sh--sh! Let me be the worshipper, dear. You little know +how unworthy even the best man is of a girl's pure passion! + +RAINA. I trust you. I love you. You will never disappoint me, +Sergius. (Louka is heard singing within the house. They quickly +release each other.) Hush! I can't pretend to talk indifferently +before her: my heart is too full. (Louka comes from the house +with her tray. She goes to the table, and begins to clear it, +with her back turned to them.) I will go and get my hat; and +then we can go out until lunch time. Wouldn't you like that? + +SERGIUS. Be quick. If you are away five minutes, it will seem +five hours. (Raina runs to the top of the steps and turns there +to exchange a look with him and wave him a kiss with both hands. +He looks after her with emotion for a moment, then turns slowly +away, his face radiant with the exultation of the scene which +has just passed. The movement shifts his field of vision, into +the corner of which there now comes the tail of Louka's double +apron. His eye gleams at once. He takes a stealthy look at her, +and begins to twirl his moustache nervously, with his left hand +akimbo on his hip. Finally, striking the ground with his heels +in something of a cavalry swagger, he strolls over to the left +of the table, opposite her, and says) Louka: do you know what +the higher love is? + +LOUKA (astonished). No, sir. + +SERGIUS. Very fatiguing thing to keep up for any length of time, +Louka. One feels the need of some relief after it. + +LOUKA (innocently). Perhaps you would like some coffee, sir? +(She stretches her hand across the table for the coffee pot.) + +SERGIUS (taking her hand). Thank you, Louka. + +LOUKA (pretending to pull). Oh, sir, you know I didn't mean +that. I'm surprised at you! + +SERGIUS (coming clear of the table and drawing her with him). I +am surprised at myself, Louka. What would Sergius, the hero of +Slivnitza, say if he saw me now? What would Sergius, the apostle +of the higher love, say if he saw me now? What would the half +dozen Sergiuses who keep popping in and out of this handsome +figure of mine say if they caught us here? (Letting go her hand +and slipping his arm dexterously round her waist.) Do you +consider my figure handsome, Louka? + +LOUKA. Let me go, sir. I shall be disgraced. (She struggles: he +holds her inexorably.) Oh, will you let go? + +SERGIUS (looking straight into her eyes). No. + +LOUKA. Then stand back where we can't be seen. Have you no +common sense? + +SERGIUS. Ah, that's reasonable. (He takes her into the +stableyard gateway, where they are hidden from the house.) + +LOUKA (complaining). I may have been seen from the windows: +Miss Raina is sure to be spying about after you. + +SERGIUS (stung--letting her go). Take care, Louka. I may be +worthless enough to betray the higher love; but do not you +insult it. + +LOUKA (demurely). Not for the world, sir, I'm sure. May I go on +with my work please, now? + +SERGIUS (again putting his arm round her). You are a provoking +little witch, Louka. If you were in love with me, would you spy +out of windows on me? + +LOUKA. Well, you see, sir, since you say you are half a dozen +different gentlemen all at once, I should have a great deal to +look after. + +SERGIUS (charmed). Witty as well as pretty. (He tries to kiss +her.) + +LOUKA (avoiding him). No, I don't want your kisses. Gentlefolk +are all alike--you making love to me behind Miss Raina's back, +and she doing the same behind yours. + +SERGIUS (recoiling a step). Louka! + +LOUKA. It shews how little you really care! + +SERGIUS (dropping his familiarity and speaking with freezing +politeness). If our conversation is to continue, Louka, you will +please remember that a gentleman does not discuss the conduct of +the lady he is engaged to with her maid. + +LOUKA. It's so hard to know what a gentleman considers right. I +thought from your trying to kiss me that you had given up being +so particular. + +SERGIUS (turning from her and striking his forehead as he comes +back into the garden from the gateway). Devil! devil! + +LOUKA. Ha! ha! I expect one of the six of you is very like me, +sir, though I am only Miss Raina's maid. (She goes back to her +work at the table, taking no further notice of him.) + +SERGIUS (speaking to himself). Which of the six is the real +man?--that's the question that torments me. One of them is a +hero, another a buffoon, another a humbug, another perhaps a +bit of a blackguard. (He pauses and looks furtively at Louka, as +he adds with deep bitterness) And one, at least, is a +coward--jealous, like all cowards. (He goes to the table.) +Louka. + +LOUKA. Yes? + +SERGIUS. Who is my rival? + +LOUKA. You shall never get that out of me, for love or money. + +SERGIUS. Why? + +LOUKA. Never mind why. Besides, you would tell that I told you; +and I should lose my place. + +SERGIUS (holding out his right hand in affirmation). No; on the +honor of a--(He checks himself, and his hand drops nerveless as +he concludes, sardonically)--of a man capable of behaving as I +have been behaving for the last five minutes. Who is he? + +LOUKA. I don't know. I never saw him. I only heard his voice +through the door of her room. + +SERGIUS. Damnation! How dare you? + +LOUKA (retreating). Oh, I mean no harm: you've no right to take +up my words like that. The mistress knows all about it. And I +tell you that if that gentleman ever comes here again, Miss +Raina will marry him, whether he likes it or not. I know the +difference between the sort of manner you and she put on before +one another and the real manner. (Sergius shivers as if she had +stabbed him. Then, setting his face like iron, he strides grimly +to her, and grips her above the elbows with both bands.) + +SERGIUS. Now listen you to me! + +LOUKA (wincing). Not so tight: you're hurting me! + +SERGIUS. That doesn't matter. You have stained my honor by +making me a party to your eavesdropping. And you have betrayed +your mistress-- + +LOUKA (writhing). Please-- + +SERGIUS. That shews that you are an abominable little clod of +common clay, with the soul of a servant. (He lets her go as if +she were an unclean thing, and turns away, dusting his hands of +her, to the bench by the wall, where he sits down with averted +head, meditating gloomily.) + +LOUKA (whimpering angrily with her hands up her sleeves, +feeling her bruised arms). You know how to hurt with your tongue +as well as with your hands. But I don't care, now I've found out +that whatever clay I'm made of, you're made of the same. As for +her, she's a liar; and her fine airs are a cheat; and I'm worth +six of her. (She shakes the pain off hardily; tosses her head; +and sets to work to put the things on the tray. He looks +doubtfully at her once or twice. She finishes packing the tray, +and laps the cloth over the edges, so as to carry all out +together. As she stoops to lift it, he rises.) + +SERGIUS. Louka! (She stops and looks defiantly at him with the +tray in her hands.) A gentleman has no right to hurt a woman +under any circumstances. (With profound humility, uncovering his +head.) I beg your pardon. + +LOUKA. That sort of apology may satisfy a lady. Of what use is +it to a servant? + +SERGIUS (thus rudely crossed in his chivalry, throws it off +with a bitter laugh and says slightingly). Oh, you wish to be +paid for the hurt? (He puts on his shako, and takes some money +from his pocket.) + +LOUKA (her eyes filling with tears in spite of herself). No, I +want my hurt made well. + +SERGIUS (sobered by her tone). How? + + (She rolls up her left sleeve; clasps her arm with + the thumb and fingers of her right hand; and looks + down at the bruise. Then she raises her head and + looks straight at him. Finally, with a superb + gesture she presents her arm to be kissed. Amazed, + he looks at her; at the arm; at her again; + hesitates; and then, with shuddering intensity, + exclaims) + +SERGIUS. Never! (and gets away as far as possible from her.) + + (Her arm drops. Without a word, and with unaffected + dignity, she takes her tray, and is approaching + the house when Raina returns wearing a hat and + jacket in the height of the Vienna fashion of the + previous year, 1885. Louka makes way proudly for + her, and then goes into the house.) + +RAINA. I'm ready! What's the matter? (Gaily.) Have you been +flirting with Louka? + +SERGIUS (hastily). No, no. How can you think such a thing? + +RAINA (ashamed of herself). Forgive me, dear: it was only a +jest. I am so happy to-day. + + (He goes quickly to her, and kisses her hand + remorsefully. Catherine comes out and calls + to them from the top of the steps.) + +CATHERINE (coming down to them). I am sorry to disturb you, +children; but Paul is distracted over those three regiments. He +does not know how to get them to Phillipopolis; and he objects +to every suggestion of mine. You must go and help him, Sergius. +He is in the library. + +RAINA (disappointed). But we are just going out for a walk. + +SERGIUS. I shall not be long. Wait for me just five minutes. (He +runs up the steps to the door.) + +RAINA (following him to the foot of the steps and looking up at +him with timid coquetry). I shall go round and wait in full view +of the library windows. Be sure you draw father's attention to +me. If you are a moment longer than five minutes, I shall go in +and fetch you, regiments or no regiments. + +SERGIUS (laughing). Very well. (He goes in. Raina watches him +until he is out of her right. Then, with a perceptible +relaxation of manner, she begins to pace up and down about the +garden in a brown study.) + +CATHERINE. Imagine their meeting that Swiss and hearing the +whole story! The very first thing your father asked for was the +old coat we sent him off in. A nice mess you have got us into! + +RAINA (gazing thoughtfully at the gravel as she walks). The +little beast! + +CATHERINE. Little beast! What little beast? + +RAINA. To go and tell! Oh, if I had him here, I'd stuff him with +chocolate creams till he couldn't ever speak again! + +CATHERINE. Don't talk nonsense. Tell me the truth, Raina. How +long was he in your room before you came to me? + +RAINA (whisking round and recommencing her march in the +opposite direction). Oh, I forget. + +CATHERINE. You cannot forget! Did he really climb up after the +soldiers were gone, or was he there when that officer searched +the room? + +RAINA. No. Yes, I think he must have been there then. + +CATHERINE. You think! Oh, Raina, Raina! Will anything ever make +you straightforward? If Sergius finds out, it is all over +between you. + +RAINA (with cool impertinence). Oh, I know Sergius is your pet. +I sometimes wish you could marry him instead of me. You would +just suit him. You would pet him, and spoil him, and mother him +to perfection. + +CATHERINE (opening her eyes very widely indeed). Well, upon my +word! + +RAINA (capriciously--half to herself). I always feel a longing +to do or say something dreadful to him--to shock his +propriety--to scandalize the five senses out of him! (To +Catherine perversely.) I don't care whether he finds out about +the chocolate cream soldier or not. I half hope he may. (She +again turns flippantly away and strolls up the path to the +corner of the house.) + +CATHERINE. And what should I be able to say to your father, +pray? + +RAINA (over her shoulder, from the top of the two steps). Oh, +poor father! As if he could help himself! (She turns the corner +and passes out of sight.) + +CATHERINE (looking after her, her fingers itching). Oh, if you +were only ten years younger! (Louka comes from the house with a +salver, which she carries hanging down by her side.) Well? + +LOUKA. There's a gentleman just called, madam--a Servian +officer-- + +CATHERINE (flaming). A Servian! How dare he--(Checking herself +bitterly.) Oh, I forgot. We are at peace now. I suppose we shall +have them calling every day to pay their compliments. Well, if +he is an officer why don't you tell your master? He is in the +library with Major Saranoff. Why do you come to me? + +LOUKA. But he asks for you, madam. And I don't think he knows +who you are: he said the lady of the house. He gave me this +little ticket for you. (She takes a card out of her bosom; puts +it on the salver and offers it to Catherine.) + +CATHERINE (reading). "Captain Bluntschli!" That's a German +name. + +LOUKA. Swiss, madam, I think. + +CATHERINE (with a bound that makes Louka jump back). Swiss! +What is he like? + +LOUKA (timidly). He has a big carpet bag, madam. + +CATHERINE. Oh, Heavens, he's come to return the coat! Send him +away--say we're not at home--ask him to leave his address and +I'll write to him--Oh, stop: that will never do. Wait! (She +throws herself into a chair to think it out. Louka waits.) The +master and Major Saranoff are busy in the library, aren't they? + +LOUKA. Yes, madam. + +CATHERINE (decisively). Bring the gentleman out here at once. +(Imperatively.) And be very polite to him. Don't delay. Here +(impatiently snatching the salver from her): leave that here; +and go straight back to him. + +LOUKA. Yes, madam. (Going.) + +CATHERINE. Louka! + +LOUKA (stopping). Yes, madam. + +CATHERINE. Is the library door shut? + +LOUKA. I think so, madam. + +CATHERINE. If not, shut it as you pass through. + +LOUKA. Yes, madam. (Going.) + +CATHERINE. Stop! (Louka stops.) He will have to go out that way +(indicating the gate of the stable yard). Tell Nicola to bring +his bag here after him. Don't forget. + +LOUKA (surprised). His bag? + +CATHERINE. Yes, here, as soon as possible. (Vehemently.) Be +quick! (Louka runs into the house. Catherine snatches her apron +off and throws it behind a bush. She then takes up the salver +and uses it as a mirror, with the result that the handkerchief +tied round her head follows the apron. A touch to her hair and a +shake to her dressing gown makes her presentable.) Oh, +how--how--how can a man be such a fool! Such a moment to select! +(Louka appears at the door of the house, announcing "Captain +Bluntschli;" and standing aside at the top of the steps to let +him pass before she goes in again. He is the man of the +adventure in Raina's room. He is now clean, well brushed, +smartly uniformed, and out of trouble, but still unmistakably +the same man. The moment Louka's back is turned, Catherine +swoops on him with hurried, urgent, coaxing appeal.) Captain +Bluntschli, I am very glad to see you; but you must leave this +house at once. (He raises his eyebrows.) My husband has just +returned, with my future son-in-law; and they know nothing. If +they did, the consequences would be terrible. You are a +foreigner: you do not feel our national animosities as we do. We +still hate the Servians: the only effect of the peace on my +husband is to make him feel like a lion baulked of his prey. If +he discovered our secret, he would never forgive me; and my +daughter's life would hardly be safe. Will you, like the +chivalrous gentleman and soldier you are, leave at once before +he finds you here? + +BLUNTSCHLI (disappointed, but philosophical). At once, gracious +lady. I only came to thank you and return the coat you lent me. +If you will allow me to take it out of my bag and leave it with +your servant as I pass out, I need detain you no further. (He +turns to go into the house.) + +CATHERINE (catching him by the sleeve). Oh, you must not think +of going back that way. (Coaxing him across to the stable +gates.) This is the shortest way out. Many thanks. So glad to +have been of service to you. Good-bye. + +BLUNTSCHLI. But my bag? + +CATHERINE. It will be sent on. You will leave me your address. + +BLUNTSCHLI. True. Allow me. (He takes out his card-case, and +stops to write his address, keeping Catherine in an agony of +impatience. As he hands her the card, Petkoff, hatless, rushes +from the house in a fluster of hospitality, followed by +Sergius.) + +PETKOFF (as he hurries down the steps). My dear Captain +Bluntschli-- + +CATHERINE. Oh Heavens! (She sinks on the seat against the wall.) + +PETKOFF (too preoccupied to notice her as he shakes +Bluntschli's hand heartily). Those stupid people of mine thought +I was out here, instead of in the--haw!--library. (He cannot +mention the library without betraying how proud he is of it.) I +saw you through the window. I was wondering why you didn't come +in. Saranoff is with me: you remember him, don't you? + +SERGIUS (saluting humorously, and then offering his hand with +great charm of manner). Welcome, our friend the enemy! + +PETKOFF. No longer the enemy, happily. (Rather anxiously.) I +hope you've come as a friend, and not on business. + +CATHERINE. Oh, quite as a friend, Paul. I was just asking +Captain Bluntschli to stay to lunch; but he declares he must go +at once. + +SERGIUS (sardonically). Impossible, Bluntschli. We want you +here badly. We have to send on three cavalry regiments to +Phillipopolis; and we don't in the least know how to do it. + +BLUNTSCHLI (suddenly attentive and business-like). +Phillipopolis! The forage is the trouble, eh? + +PETKOFF (eagerly). Yes, that's it. (To Sergius.) He sees the +whole thing at once. + +BLUNTSCHLI. I think I can shew you how to manage that. + +SERGIUS. Invaluable man! Come along! (Towering over Bluntschli, +he puts his hand on his shoulder and takes him to the steps, +Petkoff following. As Bluntschli puts his foot on the first +step, Raina comes out of the house.) + +RAINA (completely losing her presence of mind). Oh, the +chocolate cream soldier! + + (Bluntschli stands rigid. Sergius, amazed, looks + at Raina, then at Petkoff, who looks back at him + and then at his wife.) + +CATHERINE (with commanding presence of mind). My dear Raina, +don't you see that we have a guest here--Captain Bluntschli, one +of our new Servian friends? + + (Raina bows; Bluntschli bows.) + +RAINA. How silly of me! (She comes down into the centre of the +group, between Bluntschli and Petkoff) I made a beautiful +ornament this morning for the ice pudding; and that stupid +Nicola has just put down a pile of plates on it and spoiled it. +(To Bluntschli, winningly.) I hope you didn't think that you +were the chocolate cream soldier, Captain Bluntschli. + +BLUNTSCHLI (laughing). I assure you I did. (Stealing a +whimsical glance at her.) Your explanation was a relief. + +PETKOFF (suspiciously, to Raina). And since when, pray, have +you taken to cooking? + +CATHERINE. Oh, whilst you were away. It is her latest fancy. + +PETKOFF (testily). And has Nicola taken to drinking? He used to +be careful enough. First he shews Captain Bluntschli out here +when he knew quite well I was in the--hum!--library; and then +he goes downstairs and breaks Raina's chocolate soldier. He +must--(At this moment Nicola appears at the top of the steps R., +with a carpet bag. He descends; places it respectfully before +Bluntschli; and waits for further orders. General amazement. +Nicola, unconscious of the effect he is producing, looks +perfectly satisfied with himself. When Petkoff recovers his +power of speech, he breaks out at him with) Are you mad, Nicola? + +NICOLA (taken aback). Sir? + +PETKOFF. What have you brought that for? + +NICOLA. My lady's orders, sir. Louka told me that-- + +CATHERINE (interrupting him). My orders! Why should I order you +to bring Captain Bluntschli's luggage out here? What are you +thinking of, Nicola? + +NICOLA (after a moment's bewilderment, picking up the bag as he +addresses Bluntschli with the very perfection of servile +discretion). I beg your pardon, sir, I am sure. (To Catherine.) +My fault, madam! I hope you'll overlook it! (He bows, and is +going to the steps with the bag, when Petkoff addresses him +angrily.) + +PETKOFF. You'd better go and slam that bag, too, down on Miss +Raina's ice pudding! (This is too much for Nicola. The bag drops +from his hands on Petkoff's corns, eliciting a roar of anguish +from him.) Begone, you butter-fingered donkey. + +NICOLA (snatching up the bag, and escaping into the house). +Yes, sir. + +CATHERINE. Oh, never mind, Paul, don't be angry! + +PETKOFF (muttering). Scoundrel. He's got out of hand while I +was away. I'll teach him. (Recollecting his guest.) Oh, well, +never mind. Come, Bluntschli, lets have no more nonsense about +you having to go away. You know very well you're not going back +to Switzerland yet. Until you do go back you'll stay with us. + +RAINA. Oh, do, Captain Bluntschli. + +PETKOFF (to Catherine). Now, Catherine, it's of you that he's +afraid. Press him and he'll stay. + +CATHERINE. Of course I shall be only too delighted if +(appealingly) Captain Bluntschli really wishes to stay. He knows +my wishes. + +BLUNTSCHLI (in his driest military manner). I am at madame's +orders. + +SERGIUS (cordially). That settles it! + +PETKOFF (heartily). Of course! + +RAINA. You see, you must stay! + +BLUNTSCHLI (smiling). Well, If I must, I must! +(Gesture of despair from Catherine.) + + + + +ACT III + + In the library after lunch. It is not much of a + library, its literary equipment consisting of a + single fixed shelf stocked with old paper-covered + novels, broken backed, coffee stained, torn and + thumbed, and a couple of little hanging shelves + with a few gift books on them, the rest of the + wall space being occupied by trophies of war and + the chase. But it is a most comfortable + sitting-room. A row of three large windows in the + front of the house shew a mountain panorama, which + is just now seen in one of its softest aspects in + the mellowing afternoon light. In the left hand + corner, a square earthenware stove, a perfect + tower of colored pottery, rises nearly to the + ceiling and guarantees plenty of warmth. The + ottoman in the middle is a circular bank of + decorated cushions, and the window seats are well + upholstered divans. Little Turkish tables, one of + them with an elaborate hookah on it, and a screen + to match them, complete the handsome effect of the + furnishing. There is one object, however, which is + hopelessly out of keeping with its surroundings. + This is a small kitchen table, much the worse for + wear, fitted as a writing table with an old + canister full of pens, an eggcup filled with ink, + and a deplorable scrap of severely used pink + blotting paper. + + At the side of this table, which stands on the + right, Bluntschli is hard at work, with a couple + of maps before him, writing orders. At the head of + it sits Sergius, who is also supposed to be at + work, but who is actually gnawing the feather of a + pen, and contemplating Bluntschli's quick, sure, + businesslike progress with a mixture of envious + irritation at his own incapacity, and awestruck + wonder at an ability which seems to him almost + miraculous, though its prosaic character forbids + him to esteem it. The major is comfortably + established on the ottoman, with a newspaper in + his hand and the tube of the hookah within his + reach. Catherine sits at the stove, with her back + to them, embroidering. Raina, reclining on the + divan under the left hand window, is gazing in a + daydream out at the Balkan landscape, with a + neglected novel in her lap. + + The door is on the left. The button of the + electric bell is between the door and the + fireplace. + +PETKOFF (looking up from his paper to watch how they are +getting on at the table). Are you sure I can't help you in any +way, Bluntschli? + +BLUNTSCHLI (without interrupting his writing or looking up). +Quite sure, thank you. Saranoff and I will manage it. + +SERGIUS (grimly). Yes: we'll manage it. He finds out what to +do; draws up the orders; and I sign 'em. Division of labour, +Major. (Bluntschli passes him a paper.) Another one? Thank you. +(He plants the papers squarely before him; sets his chair +carefully parallel to them; and signs with the air of a man +resolutely performing a difficult and dangerous feat.) This hand +is more accustomed to the sword than to the pen. + +PETKOFF. It's very good of you, Bluntschli, it is indeed, to let +yourself be put upon in this way. Now are you quite sure I can +do nothing? + +CATHERINE (in a low, warning tone). You can stop interrupting, +Paul. + +PETKOFF (starting and looking round at her). Eh? Oh! Quite +right, my love, quite right. (He takes his newspaper up, but +lets it drop again.) Ah, you haven't been campaigning, +Catherine: you don't know how pleasant it is for us to sit here, +after a good lunch, with nothing to do but enjoy ourselves. +There's only one thing I want to make me thoroughly comfortable. + +CATHERINE. What is that? + +PETKOFF. My old coat. I'm not at home in this one: I feel as if +I were on parade. + +CATHERINE. My dear Paul, how absurd you are about that old coat! +It must be hanging in the blue closet where you left it. + +PETKOFF. My dear Catherine, I tell you I've looked there. Am I +to believe my own eyes or not? (Catherine quietly rises and +presses the button of the electric bell by the fireplace.) What +are you shewing off that bell for? (She looks at him majestically, +and silently resumes her chair and her needlework.) My dear: if +you think the obstinacy of your sex can make a coat out of two +old dressing gowns of Raina's, your waterproof, and my +mackintosh, you're mistaken. That's exactly what the blue closet +contains at present. (Nicola presents himself.) + +CATHERINE (unmoved by Petkoff's sally). Nicola: go to the blue +closet and bring your master's old coat here--the braided one he +usually wears in the house. + +NICOLA. Yes, madam. (Nicola goes out.) + +PETKOFF. Catherine. + +CATHERINE. Yes, Paul? + +PETKOFF. I bet you any piece of jewellery you like to order from +Sophia against a week's housekeeping money, that the coat isn't +there. + +CATHERINE. Done, Paul. + +PETKOFF (excited by the prospect of a gamble). Come: here's an +opportunity for some sport. Who'll bet on it? Bluntschli: I'll +give you six to one. + +BLUNTSCHLI (imperturbably). It would be robbing you, Major. +Madame is sure to be right. (Without looking up, he passes +another batch of papers to Sergius.) + +SERGIUS (also excited). Bravo, Switzerland! Major: I bet my +best charger against an Arab mare for Raina that Nicola finds +the coat in the blue closet. + +PETKOFF (eagerly). Your best char-- + +CATHERINE (hastily interrupting him). Don't be foolish, Paul. +An Arabian mare will cost you 50,000 levas. + +RAINA (suddenly coming out of her picturesque revery). Really, +mother, if you are going to take the jewellery, I don't see why +you should grudge me my Arab. + + (Nicola comes back with the coat and brings it + to Petkoff, who can hardly believe his eyes.) + +CATHERINE. Where was it, Nicola? + +NICOLA. Hanging in the blue closet, madam. + +PETKOFF. Well, I am d-- + +CATHERINE (stopping him). Paul! + +PETKOFF. I could have sworn it wasn't there. Age is beginning to +tell on me. I'm getting hallucinations. (To Nicola.) Here: help +me to change. Excuse me, Bluntschli. (He begins changing coats, +Nicola acting as valet.) Remember: I didn't take that bet of +yours, Sergius. You'd better give Raina that Arab steed +yourself, since you've roused her expectations. Eh, Raina? (He +looks round at her; but she is again rapt in the landscape. With +a little gush of paternal affection and pride, he points her out +to them and says) She's dreaming, as usual. + +SERGIUS. Assuredly she shall not be the loser. + +PETKOFF. So much the better for her. I shan't come off so cheap, +I expect. (The change is now complete. Nicola goes out with the +discarded coat.) Ah, now I feel at home at last. (He sits down +and takes his newspaper with a grunt of relief.) + +BLUNTSCHLI (to Sergius, handing a paper). That's the last +order. + +PETKOFF (jumping up). What! finished? + +BLUNTSCHLI. Finished. (Petkoff goes beside Sergius; looks +curiously over his left shoulder as he signs; and says with +childlike envy) Haven't you anything for me to sign? + +BLUNTSCHLI. Not necessary. His signature will do. + +PETKOFF. Ah, well, I think we've done a thundering good day's +work. (He goes away from the table.) Can I do anything more? + +BLUNTSCHLI. You had better both see the fellows that are to take +these. (To Sergius.) Pack them off at once; and shew them that +I've marked on the orders the time they should hand them in by. +Tell them that if they stop to drink or tell stories--if they're +five minutes late, they'll have the skin taken off their backs. + +SERGIUS (rising indignantly). I'll say so. And if one of them +is man enough to spit in my face for insulting him, I'll buy his +discharge and give him a pension. (He strides out, his humanity +deeply outraged.) + +BLUNTSCHLI (confidentially). Just see that he talks to them +properly, Major, will you? + +PETKOFF (officiously). Quite right, Bluntschli, quite right. +I'll see to it. (He goes to the door importantly, but hesitates +on the threshold.) By the bye, Catherine, you may as well come, +too. They'll be far more frightened of you than of me. + +CATHERINE (putting down her embroidery). I daresay I had +better. You will only splutter at them. (She goes out, Petkoff +holding the door for her and following her.) + +BLUNTSCHLI. What a country! They make cannons out of cherry +trees; and the officers send for their wives to keep discipline! +(He begins to fold and docket the papers. Raina, who has risen +from the divan, strolls down the room with her hands clasped +behind her, and looks mischievously at him.) + +RAINA. You look ever so much nicer than when we last met. (He +looks up, surprised.) What have you done to yourself? + +BLUNTSCHLI. Washed; brushed; good night's sleep and breakfast. +That's all. + +RAINA. Did you get back safely that morning? + +BLUNTSCHLI. Quite, thanks. + +RAINA. Were they angry with you for running away from Sergius's +charge? + +BLUNTSCHLI. No, they were glad; because they'd all just run away +themselves. + +RAINA (going to the table, and leaning over it towards him). It +must have made a lovely story for them--all that about me and my +room. + +BLUNTSCHLI. Capital story. But I only told it to one of them--a +particular friend. + +RAINA. On whose discretion you could absolutely rely? + +BLUNTSCHLI. Absolutely. + +RAINA. Hm! He told it all to my father and Sergius the day you +exchanged the prisoners. (She turns away and strolls carelessly +across to the other side of the room.) + +BLUNTSCHLI (deeply concerned and half incredulous). No! you +don't mean that, do you? + +RAINA (turning, with sudden earnestness). I do indeed. But they +don't know that it was in this house that you hid. If Sergius +knew, he would challenge you and kill you in a duel. + +BLUNTSCHLI. Bless me! then don't tell him. + +RAINA (full of reproach for his levity). Can you realize what +it is to me to deceive him? I want to be quite perfect with +Sergius--no meanness, no smallness, no deceit. My relation to +him is the one really beautiful and noble part of my life. I +hope you can understand that. + +BLUNTSCHLI (sceptically). You mean that you wouldn't like him +to find out that the story about the ice pudding was +a--a--a--You know. + +RAINA (wincing). Ah, don't talk of it in that flippant way. I +lied: I know it. But I did it to save your life. He would have +killed you. That was the second time I ever uttered a falsehood. +(Bluntschli rises quickly and looks doubtfully and somewhat +severely at her.) Do you remember the first time? + +BLUNTSCHLI. I! No. Was I present? + +RAINA. Yes; and I told the officer who was searching for you +that you were not present. + +BLUNTSCHLI. True. I should have remembered it. + +RAINA (greatly encouraged). Ah, it is natural that you should +forget it first. It cost you nothing: it cost me a lie!--a lie!! +(She sits down on the ottoman, looking straight before her with +her hands clasped on her knee. Bluntschli, quite touched, goes +to the ottoman with a particularly reassuring and considerate +air, and sits down beside her.) + +BLUNTSCHLI. My dear young lady, don't let this worry you. +Remember: I'm a soldier. Now what are the two things that happen +to a soldier so often that he comes to think nothing of them? +One is hearing people tell lies (Raina recoils): the other is +getting his life saved in all sorts of ways by all sorts of +people. + +RAINA (rising in indignant protest). And so he becomes a +creature incapable of faith and of gratitude. + +BLUNTSCHLI (making a wry face). Do you like gratitude? I don't. +If pity is akin to love, gratitude is akin to the other thing. + +RAINA. Gratitude! (Turning on him.) If you are incapable of +gratitude you are incapable of any noble sentiment. Even animals +are grateful. Oh, I see now exactly what you think of me! You +were not surprised to hear me lie. To you it was something I +probably did every day--every hour. That is how men think of +women. (She walks up the room melodramatically.) + +BLUNTSCHLI (dubiously). There's reason in everything. You said +you'd told only two lies in your whole life. Dear young lady: +isn't that rather a short allowance? I'm quite a straightforward +man myself; but it wouldn't last me a whole morning. + +RAINA (staring haughtily at him). Do you know, sir, that you +are insulting me? + +BLUNTSCHLI. I can't help it. When you get into that noble +attitude and speak in that thrilling voice, I admire you; but I +find it impossible to believe a single word you say. + +RAINA (superbly). Captain Bluntschli! + +BLUNTSCHLI (unmoved). Yes? + +RAINA (coming a little towards him, as if she could not believe +her senses). Do you mean what you said just now? Do you know +what you said just now? + +BLUNTSCHLI. I do. + +RAINA (gasping). I! I!!! (She points to herself incredulously, +meaning "I, Raina Petkoff, tell lies!" He meets her gaze +unflinchingly. She suddenly sits down beside him, and adds, with +a complete change of manner from the heroic to the familiar) How +did you find me out? + +BLUNTSCHLI (promptly). Instinct, dear young lady. Instinct, and +experience of the world. + +RAINA (wonderingly). Do you know, you are the first man I ever +met who did not take me seriously? + +BLUNTSCHLI. You mean, don't you, that I am the first man that +has ever taken you quite seriously? + +RAINA. Yes, I suppose I do mean that. (Cosily, quite at her ease +with him.) How strange it is to be talked to in such a way! You +know, I've always gone on like that--I mean the noble attitude +and the thrilling voice. I did it when I was a tiny child to my +nurse. She believed in it. I do it before my parents. They +believe in it. I do it before Sergius. He believes in it. + +BLUNTSCHLI. Yes: he's a little in that line himself, isn't he? + +RAINA (startled). Do you think so? + +BLUNTSCHLI. You know him better than I do. + +RAINA. I wonder--I wonder is he? If I thought that--! +(Discouraged.) Ah, well, what does it matter? I suppose, now +that you've found me out, you despise me. + +BLUNTSCHLI (warmly, rising). No, my dear young lady, no, no, no +a thousand times. It's part of your youth--part of your charm. +I'm like all the rest of them--the nurse--your +parents--Sergius: I'm your infatuated admirer. + +RAINA (pleased). Really? + +BLUNTSCHLI (slapping his breast smartly with his hand, German +fashion). Hand aufs Herz! Really and truly. + +RAINA (very happy). But what did you think of me for giving you +my portrait? + +BLUNTSCHLI (astonished). Your portrait! You never gave me your +portrait. + +RAINA (quickly). Do you mean to say you never got it? + +BLUNTSCHLI. No. (He sits down beside her, with renewed interest, +and says, with some complacency.) When did you send it to me? + +RAINA (indignantly). I did not send it to you. (She turns her +head away, and adds, reluctantly.) It was in the pocket of that +coat. + +BLUNTSCHLI (pursing his lips and rounding his eyes). Oh-o-oh! I +never found it. It must be there still. + +RAINA (springing up). There still!--for my father to find the +first time he puts his hand in his pocket! Oh, how could you be +so stupid? + +BLUNTSCHLI (rising also). It doesn't matter: it's only a +photograph: how can he tell who it was intended for? Tell him he +put it there himself. + +RAINA (impatiently). Yes, that is so clever--so clever! What +shall I do? + +BLUNTSCHLI. Ah, I see. You wrote something on it. That was rash! + +RAINA (annoyed almost to tears). Oh, to have done such a thing +for you, who care no more--except to laugh at me--oh! Are you +sure nobody has touched it? + +BLUNTSCHLI. Well, I can't be quite sure. You see I couldn't +carry it about with me all the time: one can't take much luggage +on active service. + +RAINA. What did you do with it? + +BLUNTSCHLI. When I got through to Peerot I had to put it in safe +keeping somehow. I thought of the railway cloak room; but that's +the surest place to get looted in modern warfare. So I pawned +it. + +RAINA. Pawned it!!! + +BLUNTSCHLI. I know it doesn't sound nice; but it was much the +safest plan. I redeemed it the day before yesterday. Heaven only +knows whether the pawnbroker cleared out the pockets or not. + +RAINA (furious--throwing the words right into his face). You +have a low, shopkeeping mind. You think of things that would +never come into a gentleman's head. + +BLUNTSCHLI (phlegmatically). That's the Swiss national +character, dear lady. + +RAINA. Oh, I wish I had never met you. (She flounces away and +sits at the window fuming.) + + (Louka comes in with a heap of letters and + telegrams on her salver, and crosses, with her + bold, free gait, to the table. Her left sleeve is + looped up to the shoulder with a brooch, shewing + her naked arm, with a broad gilt bracelet covering + the bruise.) + +LOUKA (to Bluntschli). For you. (She empties the salver +recklessly on the table.) The messenger is waiting. (She is +determined not to be civil to a Servian, even if she must bring +him his letters.) + +BLUNTSCHLI (to Raina). Will you excuse me: the last postal +delivery that reached me was three weeks ago. These are the +subsequent accumulations. Four telegrams--a week old. (He opens +one.) Oho! Bad news! + +RAINA (rising and advancing a little remorsefully). Bad news? + +BLUNTSCHLI. My father's dead. (He looks at the telegram with his +lips pursed, musing on the unexpected change in his +arrangements.) + +RAINA. Oh, how very sad! + +BLUNTSCHLI. Yes: I shall have to start for home in an hour. He +has left a lot of big hotels behind him to be looked after. +(Takes up a heavy letter in a long blue envelope.) Here's a +whacking letter from the family solicitor. (He pulls out the +enclosures and glances over them.) Great Heavens! Seventy! Two +hundred! (In a crescendo of dismay.) Four hundred! Four +thousand!! Nine thousand six hundred!!! What on earth shall I do +with them all? + +RAINA (timidly). Nine thousand hotels? + +BLUNTSCHLI. Hotels! Nonsense. If you only knew!--oh, it's too +ridiculous! Excuse me: I must give my fellow orders about +starting. (He leaves the room hastily, with the documents in his +hand.) + +LOUKA (tauntingly). He has not much heart, that Swiss, though +he is so fond of the Servians. He has not a word of grief for +his poor father. + +RAINA (bitterly). Grief!--a man who has been doing nothing but +killing people for years! What does he care? What does any +soldier care? (She goes to the door, evidently restraining her +tears with difficulty.) + +LOUKA. Major Saranoff has been fighting, too; and he has plenty +of heart left. (Raina, at the door, looks haughtily at her and +goes out.) Aha! I thought you wouldn't get much feeling out of +your soldier. (She is following Raina when Nicola enters with an +armful of logs for the fire.) + +NICOLA (grinning amorously at her). I've been trying all the +afternoon to get a minute alone with you, my girl. (His +countenance changes as he notices her arm.) Why, what fashion is +that of wearing your sleeve, child? + +LOUKA (proudly). My own fashion. + +NICOLA. Indeed! If the mistress catches you, she'll talk to you. +(He throws the logs down on the ottoman, and sits comfortably +beside them.) + +LOUKA. Is that any reason why you should take it on yourself to +talk to me? + +NICOLA. Come: don't be so contrary with me. I've some good news +for you. (He takes out some paper money. Louka, with an eager +gleam in her eyes, comes close to look at it.) See, a twenty +leva bill! Sergius gave me that out of pure swagger. A fool and +his money are soon parted. There's ten levas more. The Swiss +gave me that for backing up the mistress's and Raina's lies +about him. He's no fool, he isn't. You should have heard old +Catherine downstairs as polite as you please to me, telling me +not to mind the Major being a little impatient; for they knew +what a good servant I was--after making a fool and a liar of me +before them all! The twenty will go to our savings; and you +shall have the ten to spend if you'll only talk to me so as to +remind me I'm a human being. I get tired of being a servant +occasionally. + +LOUKA (scornfully). Yes: sell your manhood for thirty levas, +and buy me for ten! Keep your money. You were born to be a +servant. I was not. When you set up your shop you will only be +everybody's servant instead of somebody's servant. + +NICOLA (picking up his logs, and going to the stove). Ah, wait +till you see. We shall have our evenings to ourselves; and I +shall be master in my own house, I promise you. (He throws the +logs down and kneels at the stove.) + +LOUKA. You shall never be master in mine. (She sits down on +Sergius's chair.) + +NICOLA (turning, still on his knees, and squatting down rather +forlornly, on his calves, daunted by her implacable disdain). +You have a great ambition in you, Louka. Remember: if any luck +comes to you, it was I that made a woman of you. + +LOUKA. You! + +NICOLA (with dogged self-assertion). Yes, me. Who was it made +you give up wearing a couple of pounds of false black hair on +your head and reddening your lips and cheeks like any other +Bulgarian girl? I did. Who taught you to trim your nails, and +keep your hands clean, and be dainty about yourself, like a fine +Russian lady? Me! do you hear that? me! (She tosses her head +defiantly; and he rises, ill-humoredly, adding more coolly) I've +often thought that if Raina were out of the way, and you just a +little less of a fool and Sergius just a little more of one, you +might come to be one of my grandest customers, instead of only +being my wife and costing me money. + +LOUKA. I believe you would rather be my servant than my husband. +You would make more out of me. Oh, I know that soul of yours. + +NICOLA (going up close to her for greater emphasis). Never you +mind my soul; but just listen to my advice. If you want to be a +lady, your present behaviour to me won't do at all, unless when +we're alone. It's too sharp and imprudent; and impudence is a +sort of familiarity: it shews affection for me. And don't you +try being high and mighty with me either. You're like all +country girls: you think it's genteel to treat a servant the way +I treat a stable-boy. That's only your ignorance; and don't you +forget it. And don't be so ready to defy everybody. Act as if +you expected to have your own way, not as if you expected to be +ordered about. The way to get on as a lady is the same as the +way to get on as a servant: you've got to know your place; +that's the secret of it. And you may depend on me to know my +place if you get promoted. Think over it, my girl. I'll stand by +you: one servant should always stand by another. + +LOUKA (rising impatiently). Oh, I must behave in my own way. +You take all the courage out of me with your cold-blooded +wisdom. Go and put those logs on the fire: that's the sort of +thing you understand. (Before Nicola can retort, Sergius comes +in. He checks himself a moment on seeing Louka; then goes to the +stove.) + +SERGIUS (to Nicola). I am not in the way of your work, I hope. + +NICOLA (in a smooth, elderly manner). Oh, no, sir, thank you +kindly. I was only speaking to this foolish girl about her habit +of running up here to the library whenever she gets a chance, to +look at the books. That's the worst of her education, sir: it +gives her habits above her station. (To Louka.) Make that table +tidy, Louka, for the Major. (He goes out sedately.) + + (Louka, without looking at Sergius, begins to + arrange the papers on the table. He crosses slowly + to her, and studies the arrangement of her sleeve + reflectively.) + +SERGIUS. Let me see: is there a mark there? (He turns up the +bracelet and sees the bruise made by his grasp. She stands +motionless, not looking at him: fascinated, but on her guard.) +Ffff! Does it hurt? + +LOUKA. Yes. + +SERGIUS. Shall I cure it? + +LOUKA (instantly withdrawing herself proudly, but still not +looking at him). No. You cannot cure it now. + +SERGIUS (masterfully). Quite sure? (He makes a movement as if +to take her in his arms.) + +LOUKA. Don't trifle with me, please. An officer should not +trifle with a servant. + +SERGIUS (touching the arm with a merciless stroke of his +forefinger). That was no trifle, Louka. + +LOUKA. No. (Looking at him for the first time.) Are you sorry? + +SERGIUS (with measured emphasis, folding his arms). I am never +sorry. + +LOUKA (wistfully). I wish I could believe a man could be so +unlike a woman as that. I wonder are you really a brave man? + +SERGIUS (unaffectedly, relaxing his attitude). Yes: I am a +brave man. My heart jumped like a woman's at the first shot; but +in the charge I found that I was brave. Yes: that at least is +real about me. + +LOUKA. Did you find in the charge that the men whose fathers are +poor like mine were any less brave than the men who are rich +like you? + +SERGIUS (with bitter levity.) Not a bit. They all slashed and +cursed and yelled like heroes. Psha! the courage to rage and +kill is cheap. I have an English bull terrier who has as much of +that sort of courage as the whole Bulgarian nation, and the +whole Russian nation at its back. But he lets my groom thrash +him, all the same. That's your soldier all over! No, Louka, your +poor men can cut throats; but they are afraid of their officers; +they put up with insults and blows; they stand by and see one +another punished like children---aye, and help to do it when +they are ordered. And the officers!---well (with a short, bitter +laugh) I am an officer. Oh, (fervently) give me the man who will +defy to the death any power on earth or in heaven that sets +itself up against his own will and conscience: he alone is the +brave man. + +LOUKA. How easy it is to talk! Men never seem to me to grow up: +they all have schoolboy's ideas. You don't know what true +courage is. + +SERGIUS (ironically). Indeed! I am willing to be instructed. + +LOUKA. Look at me! how much am I allowed to have my own will? I +have to get your room ready for you--to sweep and dust, to fetch +and carry. How could that degrade me if it did not degrade you +to have it done for you? But (with subdued passion) if I were +Empress of Russia, above everyone in the world, then--ah, then, +though according to you I could shew no courage at all; you +should see, you should see. + +SERGIUS. What would you do, most noble Empress? + +LOUKA. I would marry the man I loved, which no other queen in +Europe has the courage to do. If I loved you, though you would +be as far beneath me as I am beneath you, I would dare to be the +equal of my inferior. Would you dare as much if you loved me? +No: if you felt the beginnings of love for me you would not let +it grow. You dare not: you would marry a rich man's daughter +because you would be afraid of what other people would say of +you. + +SERGIUS (carried away). You lie: it is not so, by all the +stars! If I loved you, and I were the Czar himself, I would set +you on the throne by my side. You know that I love another +woman, a woman as high above you as heaven is above earth. And +you are jealous of her. + +LOUKA. I have no reason to be. She will never marry you now. The +man I told you of has come back. She will marry the Swiss. + +SERGIUS (recoiling). The Swiss! + +LOUKA. A man worth ten of you. Then you can come to me; and I +will refuse you. You are not good enough for me. (She turns to +the door.) + +SERGIUS (springing after her and catching her fiercely in his +arms). I will kill the Swiss; and afterwards I will do as I +please with you. + +LOUKA (in his arms, passive and steadfast). The Swiss will kill +you, perhaps. He has beaten you in love. He may beat you in war. + +SERGIUS (tormentedly). Do you think I believe that she--she! +whose worst thoughts are higher than your best ones, is capable +of trifling with another man behind my back? + +LOUKA. Do you think she would believe the Swiss if he told her +now that I am in your arms? + +SERGIUS (releasing her in despair). Damnation! Oh, damnation! +Mockery, mockery everywhere: everything I think is mocked by +everything I do. (He strikes himself frantically on the breast.) +Coward, liar, fool! Shall I kill myself like a man, or live and +pretend to laugh at myself? (She again turns to go.) Louka! (She +stops near the door.) Remember: you belong to me. + +LOUKA (quietly). What does that mean--an insult? + +SERGIUS (commandingly). It means that you love me, and that I +have had you here in my arms, and will perhaps have you there +again. Whether that is an insult I neither know nor care: take +it as you please. But (vehemently) I will not be a coward and a +trifler. If I choose to love you, I dare marry you, in spite of +all Bulgaria. If these hands ever touch you again, they shall +touch my affianced bride. + +LOUKA. We shall see whether you dare keep your word. But take +care. I will not wait long. + +SERGIUS (again folding his arms and standing motionless in the +middle of the room). Yes, we shall see. And you shall wait my +pleasure. + + (Bluntschli, much preoccupied, with his papers + still in his hand, enters, leaving the door open + for Louka to go out. He goes across to the table, + glancing at her as he passes. Sergius, without + altering his resolute attitude, watches him + steadily. Louka goes out, leaving the door open.) + +BLUNTSCHLI (absently, sitting at the table as before, and +putting down his papers). That's a remarkable looking young +woman. + +SERGIUS (gravely, without moving). Captain Bluntschli. + +BLUNTSCHLI. Eh? + +SERGIUS. You have deceived me. You are my rival. I brook no +rivals. At six o'clock I shall be in the drilling-ground on the +Klissoura road, alone, on horseback, with my sabre. Do you +understand? + +BLUNTSCHLI (staring, but sitting quite at his ease). Oh, thank +you: that's a cavalry man's proposal. I'm in the artillery; and +I have the choice of weapons. If I go, I shall take a machine +gun. And there shall be no mistake about the cartridges this +time. + +SERGIUS (flushing, but with deadly coldness). Take care, sir. +It is not our custom in Bulgaria to allow invitations of that +kind to be trifled with. + +BLUNTSCHLI (warmly). Pooh! don't talk to me about Bulgaria. You +don't know what fighting is. But have it your own way. Bring +your sabre along. I'll meet you. + +SERGIUS (fiercely delighted to find his opponent a man of +spirit). Well said, Switzer. Shall I lend you my best horse? + +BLUNTSCHLI. No: damn your horse!---thank you all the same, my +dear fellow. (Raina comes in, and hears the next sentence.) I +shall fight you on foot. Horseback's too dangerous: I don't want +to kill you if I can help it. + +RAINA (hurrying forward anxiously). I have heard what Captain +Bluntschli said, Sergius. You are going to fight. Why? (Sergius +turns away in silence, and goes to the stove, where he stands +watching her as she continues, to Bluntschli) What about? + +BLUNTSCHLI. I don't know: he hasn't told me. Better not +interfere, dear young lady. No harm will be done: I've often +acted as sword instructor. He won't be able to touch me; and +I'll not hurt him. It will save explanations. In the morning I +shall be off home; and you'll never see me or hear of me again. +You and he will then make it up and live happily ever after. + +RAINA (turning away deeply hurt, almost with a sob in her +voice). I never said I wanted to see you again. + +SERGIUS (striding forward). Ha! That is a confession. + +RAINA (haughtily). What do you mean? + +SERGIUS. You love that man! + +RAINA (scandalized). Sergius! + +SERGIUS. You allow him to make love to you behind my back, just +as you accept me as your affianced husband behind his. +Bluntschli: you knew our relations; and you deceived me. It is +for that that I call you to account, not for having received +favours that I never enjoyed. + +BLUNTSCHLI (jumping up indignantly). Stuff! Rubbish! I have +received no favours. Why, the young lady doesn't even know +whether I'm married or not. + +RAINA (forgetting herself). Oh! (Collapsing on the ottoman.) +Are you? + +SERGIUS. You see the young lady's concern, Captain Bluntschli. +Denial is useless. You have enjoyed the privilege of being +received in her own room, late at night-- + +BLUNTSCHLI (interrupting him pepperily). Yes; you blockhead! +She received me with a pistol at her head. Your cavalry were at +my heels. I'd have blown out her brains if she'd uttered a cry. + +SERGIUS (taken aback). Bluntschli! Raina: is this true? + +RAINA (rising in wrathful majesty). Oh, how dare you, how dare +you? + +BLUNTSCHLI. Apologize, man, apologize! (He resumes his seat at +the table.) + +SERGIUS (with the old measured emphasis, folding his arms). I +never apologize. + +RAINA (passionately). This is the doing of that friend of +yours, Captain Bluntschli. It is he who is spreading this +horrible story about me. (She walks about excitedly.) + +BLUNTSCHLI. No: he's dead--burnt alive. + +RAINA (stopping, shocked). Burnt alive! + +BLUNTSCHLI. Shot in the hip in a wood yard. Couldn't drag +himself out. Your fellows' shells set the timber on fire and +burnt him, with half a dozen other poor devils in the same +predicament. + +RAINA. How horrible! + +SERGIUS. And how ridiculous! Oh, war! war! the dream of patriots +and heroes! A fraud, Bluntschli, a hollow sham, like love. + +RAINA (outraged). Like love! You say that before me. + +BLUNTSCHLI. Come, Saranoff: that matter is explained. + +SERGIUS. A hollow sham, I say. Would you have come back here if +nothing had passed between you, except at the muzzle of your +pistol? Raina is mistaken about our friend who was burnt. He was +not my informant. + +RAINA. Who then? (Suddenly guessing the truth.) Ah, Louka! my +maid, my servant! You were with her this morning all that time +after---after---Oh, what sort of god is this I have been +worshipping! (He meets her gaze with sardonic enjoyment of her +disenchantment. Angered all the more, she goes closer to him, +and says, in a lower, intenser tone) Do you know that I looked +out of the window as I went upstairs, to have another sight of +my hero; and I saw something that I did not understand then. I +know now that you were making love to her. + +SERGIUS (with grim humor). You saw that? + +RAINA. Only too well. (She turns away, and throws herself on the +divan under the centre window, quite overcome.) + +SERGIUS (cynically). Raina: our romance is shattered. Life's a +farce. + +BLUNTSCHLI (to Raina, goodhumoredly). You see: he's found +himself out now. + +SERGIUS. Bluntschli: I have allowed you to call me a blockhead. +You may now call me a coward as well. I refuse to fight you. Do +you know why? + +BLUNTSCHLI. No; but it doesn't matter. I didn't ask the reason +when you cried on; and I don't ask the reason now that you cry +off. I'm a professional soldier. I fight when I have to, and am +very glad to get out of it when I haven't to. You're only an +amateur: you think fighting's an amusement. + +SERGIUS. You shall hear the reason all the same, my +professional. The reason is that it takes two men--real men--men +of heart, blood and honor--to make a genuine combat. I could no +more fight with you than I could make love to an ugly woman. +You've no magnetism: you're not a man, you're a machine. + +BLUNTSCHLI (apologetically). Quite true, quite true. I always +was that sort of chap. I'm very sorry. But now that you've found +that life isn't a farce, but something quite sensible and +serious, what further obstacle is there to your happiness? + +RAINA (riling). You are very solicitous about my happiness and +his. Do you forget his new love--Louka? It is not you that he +must fight now, but his rival, Nicola. + +SERGIUS. Rival!! (Striking his forehead.) + +RAINA. Did you not know that they are engaged? + +SERGIUS. Nicola! Are fresh abysses opening! Nicola!! + +RAINA (sarcastically). A shocking sacrifice, isn't it? Such +beauty, such intellect, such modesty, wasted on a middle-aged +servant man! Really, Sergius, you cannot stand by and allow such +a thing. It would be unworthy of your chivalry. + +SERGIUS (losing all self-control). Viper! Viper! (He rushes to +and fro, raging.) + +BLUNTSCHLI. Look here, Saranoff; you're getting the worst of +this. + +RAINA (getting angrier). Do you realize what he has done, +Captain Bluntschli? He has set this girl as a spy on us; and her +reward is that he makes love to her. + +SERGIUS. False! Monstrous! + +RAINA. Monstrous! (Confronting him.) Do you deny that she told +you about Captain Bluntschli being in my room? + +SERGIUS. No; but-- + +RAINA (interrupting). Do you deny that you were making love to +her when she told you? + +SERGIUS. No; but I tell you-- + +RAINA (cutting him short contemptuously). It is unnecessary to +tell us anything more. That is quite enough for us. (She turns +her back on him and sweeps majestically back to the window.) + +BLUNTSCHLI (quietly, as Sergius, in an agony of mortification, +rinks on the ottoman, clutching his averted head between his +fists). I told you you were getting the worst of it, Saranoff. + +SERGIUS. Tiger cat! + +RAINA (running excitedly to Bluntschli). You hear this man +calling me names, Captain Bluntschli? + +BLUNTSCHLI. What else can he do, dear lady? He must defend +himself somehow. Come (very persuasively), don't quarrel. What +good does it do? (Raina, with a gasp, sits down on the ottoman, +and after a vain effort to look vexedly at Bluntschli, she falls +a victim to her sense of humor, and is attacked with a +disposition to laugh.) + +SERGIUS. Engaged to Nicola! (He rises.) Ha! ha! (Going to the +stove and standing with his back to it.) Ah, well, Bluntschli, +you are right to take this huge imposture of a world coolly. + +RAINA (to Bluntschli with an intuitive guess at his state of +mind). I daresay you think us a couple of grown up babies, don't +you? + +SERGIUS (grinning a little). He does, he does. Swiss +civilization nursetending Bulgarian barbarism, eh? + +BLUNTSCHLI (blushing). Not at all, I assure you. I'm only very +glad to get you two quieted. There now, let's be pleasant and +talk it over in a friendly way. Where is this other young lady? + +RAINA. Listening at the door, probably. + +SERGIUS (shivering as if a bullet had struck him, and speaking +with quiet but deep indignation). I will prove that that, at +least, is a calumny. (He goes with dignity to the door and opens +it. A yell of fury bursts from him as he looks out. He darts +into the passage, and returns dragging in Louka, whom he flings +against the table, R., as he cries) Judge her, Bluntschli--you, +the moderate, cautious man: judge the eavesdropper. + + (Louka stands her ground, proud and silent.) + +BLUNTSCHLI (shaking his head). I mustn't judge her. I once +listened myself outside a tent when there was a mutiny brewing. +It's all a question of the degree of provocation. My life was at +stake. + +LOUKA. My love was at stake. (Sergius flinches, ashamed of her +in spite of himself.) I am not ashamed. + +RAINA (contemptuously). Your love! Your curiosity, you mean. + +LOUKA (facing her and retorting her contempt with interest). My +love, stronger than anything you can feel, even for your +chocolate cream soldier. + +SERGIUS (with quick suspicion--to Louka). What does that mean? + +LOUKA (fiercely). It means-- + +SERGIUS (interrupting her slightingly). Oh, I remember, the ice +pudding. A paltry taunt, girl. + + (Major Petkoff enters, in his shirtsleeves.) + +PETKOFF. Excuse my shirtsleeves, gentlemen. Raina: somebody has +been wearing that coat of mine: I'll swear it--somebody with +bigger shoulders than mine. It's all burst open at the back. +Your mother is mending it. I wish she'd make haste. I shall +catch cold. (He looks more attentively at them.) Is anything the +matter? + +RAINA. No. (She sits down at the stove with a tranquil air.) + +SERGIUS. Oh, no! (He sits down at the end of the table, as at +first.) + +BLUNTSCHLI (who is already seated). Nothing, nothing. + +PETKOFF (sitting down on the ottoman in his old place). That's +all right. (He notices Louka.) Anything the matter, Louka? + +LOUKA. No, sir. + +PETKOFF (genially). That's all right. (He sneezes.) Go and ask +your mistress for my coat, like a good girl, will you? (She +turns to obey; but Nicola enters with the coat; and she makes a +pretence of having business in the room by taking the little +table with the hookah away to the wall near the windows.) + +RAINA (rising quickly, as she sees the coat on Nicola's arm). +Here it is, papa. Give it to me, Nicola; and do you put some +more wood on the fire. (She takes the coat, and brings it to the +Major, who stands up to put it on. Nicola attends to the fire.) + +PETKOFF (to Raina, teasing her affectionately). Aha! Going to +be very good to poor old papa just for one day after his return +from the wars, eh? + +RAINA (with solemn reproach). Ah, how can you say that to me, +father? + +PETKOFF. Well, well, only a joke, little one. Come, give me a +kiss. (She kisses him.) Now give me the coat. + +RAINA. Now, I am going to put it on for you. Turn your back. (He +turns his back and feels behind him with his arms for the +sleeves. She dexterously takes the photograph from the pocket +and throws it on the table before Bluntschli, who covers it with +a sheet of paper under the very nose of Sergius, who looks on +amazed, with his suspicions roused in the highest degree. She +then helps Petkoff on with his coat.) There, dear! Now are you +comfortable? + +PETKOFF. Quite, little love. Thanks. (He sits down; and Raina +returns to her seat near the stove.) Oh, by the bye, I've found +something funny. What's the meaning of this? (He put his hand +into the picked pocket.) Eh? Hallo! (He tries the other pocket.) +Well, I could have sworn--(Much puzzled, he tries the breast +pocket.) I wonder--(Tries the original pocket.) Where can +it--(A light flashes on him; he rises, exclaiming) Your mother's +taken it. + +RAINA (very red). Taken what? + +PETKOFF. Your photograph, with the inscription: "Raina, to her +Chocolate Cream Soldier--a souvenir." Now you know there's +something more in this than meets the eye; and I'm going to find +it out. (Shouting) Nicola! + +NICOLA (dropping a log, and turning). Sir! + +PETKOFF. Did you spoil any pastry of Miss Raina's this morning? + +NICOLA. You heard Miss Raina say that I did, sir. + +PETKOFF. I know that, you idiot. Was it true? + +NICOLA. I am sure Miss Raina is incapable of saying anything +that is not true, sir. + +PETKOFF. Are you? Then I'm not. (Turning to the others.) Come: +do you think I don't see it all? (Goes to Sergius, and slaps him +on the shoulder.) Sergius: you're the chocolate cream soldier, +aren't you? + +SERGIUS (starting up). I! a chocolate cream soldier! Certainly +not. + +PETKOFF. Not! (He looks at them. They are all very serious and +very conscious.) Do you mean to tell me that Raina sends +photographic souvenirs to other men? + +SERGIUS (enigmatically). The world is not such an innocent +place as we used to think, Petkoff. + +BLUNTSCHLI (rising). It's all right, Major. I'm the chocolate +cream soldier. (Petkoff and Sergius are equally astonished.) The +gracious young lady saved my life by giving me chocolate creams +when I was starving--shall I ever forget their flavour! My late +friend Stolz told you the story at Peerot. I was the fugitive. + +PETKOFF. You! (He gasps.) Sergius: do you remember how those two +women went on this morning when we mentioned it? (Sergius smiles +cynically. Petkoff confronts Raina severely.) You're a nice young +woman, aren't you? + +RAINA (bitterly). Major Saranoff has changed his mind. And when +I wrote that on the photograph, I did not know that Captain +Bluntschli was married. + +BLUNTSCHLI (much startled protesting vehemently). I'm not +married. + +RAINA (with deep reproach). You said you were. + +BLUNTSCHLI. I did not. I positively did not. I never was married +in my life. + +PETKOFF (exasperated). Raina: will you kindly inform me, if I +am not asking too much, which gentleman you are engaged to? + +RAINA. To neither of them. This young lady (introducing Louka, +who faces them all proudly) is the object of Major Saranoff's +affections at present. + +PETKOFF. Louka! Are you mad, Sergius? Why, this girl's engaged +to Nicola. + +NICOLA (coming forward ). I beg your pardon, sir. There is a +mistake. Louka is not engaged to me. + +PETKOFF. Not engaged to you, you scoundrel! Why, you had +twenty-five levas from me on the day of your betrothal; and she +had that gilt bracelet from Miss Raina. + +NICOLA (with cool unction). We gave it out so, sir. But it was +only to give Louka protection. She had a soul above her station; +and I have been no more than her confidential servant. I intend, +as you know, sir, to set up a shop later on in Sofea; and I look +forward to her custom and recommendation should she marry into +the nobility. (He goes out with impressive discretion, leaving +them all staring after him.) + +PETKOFF (breaking the silence). Well, I am---hm! + +SERGIUS. This is either the finest heroism or the most crawling +baseness. Which is it, Bluntschli? + +BLUNTSCHLI. Never mind whether it's heroism or baseness. +Nicola's the ablest man I've met in Bulgaria. I'll make him +manager of a hotel if he can speak French and German. + +LOUKA (suddenly breaking out at Sergius). I have been insulted +by everyone here. You set them the example. You owe me an +apology. (Sergius immediately, like a repeating clock of which +the spring has been touched, begins to fold his arms.) + +BLUNTSCHLI (before he can speak). It's no use. He never +apologizes. + +LOUKA. Not to you, his equal and his enemy. To me, his poor +servant, he will not refuse to apologize. + +SERGIUS (approvingly). You are right. (He bends his knee in his +grandest manner.) Forgive me! + +LOUKA. I forgive you. (She timidly gives him her hand, which he +kisses.) That touch makes me your affianced wife. + +SERGIUS (springing up). Ah, I forgot that! + +LOUKA (coldly). You can withdraw if you like. + +SERGIUS. Withdraw! Never! You belong to me! (He puts his arm +about her and draws her to him.) (Catherine comes in and finds +Louka in Sergius's arms, and all the rest gazing at them in +bewildered astonishment.) + +CATHERINE. What does this mean? (Sergius releases Louka.) + +PETKOFF. Well, my dear, it appears that Sergius is going to +marry Louka instead of Raina. (She is about to break out +indignantly at him: he stops her by exclaiming testily.) Don't +blame me: I've nothing to do with it. (He retreats to the +stove.) + +CATHERINE. Marry Louka! Sergius: you are bound by your word to +us! + +SERGIUS (folding his arms). Nothing binds me. + +BLUNTSCHLI (much pleased by this piece of common sense). +Saranoff: your hand. My congratulations. These heroics of yours +have their practical side after all. (To Louka.) Gracious young +lady: the best wishes of a good Republican! (He kisses her hand, +to Raina's great disgust.) + +CATHERINE (threateningly). Louka: you have been telling +stories. + +LOUKA. I have done Raina no harm. + +CATHERINE (haughtily). Raina! (Raina is equally indignant at +the liberty.) + +LOUKA. I have a right to call her Raina: she calls me Louka. I +told Major Saranoff she would never marry him if the Swiss +gentleman came back. + +BLUNTSCHLI (surprised). Hallo! + +LOUKA (turning to Raina). I thought you were fonder of him than +of Sergius. You know best whether I was right. + +BLUNTSCHLI. What nonsense! I assure you, my dear Major, my dear +Madame, the gracious young lady simply saved my life, nothing +else. She never cared two straws for me. Why, bless my heart and +soul, look at the young lady and look at me. She, rich, young, +beautiful, with her imagination full of fairy princes and noble +natures and cavalry charges and goodness knows what! And I, a +common-place Swiss soldier who hardly knows what a decent life +is after fifteen years of barracks and battles--a vagabond--a +man who has spoiled all his chances in life through an incurably +romantic disposition--a man-- + +SERGIUS (starting as if a needle had pricked him and +interrupting Bluntschli in incredulous amazement). Excuse me, +Bluntschli: what did you say had spoiled your chances in life? + +BLUNTSCHLI (promptly). An incurably romantic disposition. I ran +away from home twice when I was a boy. I went into the army +instead of into my father's business. I climbed the balcony of +this house when a man of sense would have dived into the nearest +cellar. I came sneaking back here to have another look at the +young lady when any other man of my age would have sent the coat +back-- + +PETKOFF. My coat! + +BLUNTSCHLI.--Yes: that's the coat I mean--would have sent it +back and gone quietly home. Do you suppose I am the sort of +fellow a young girl falls in love with? Why, look at our ages! +I'm thirty-four: I don't suppose the young lady is much over +seventeen. (This estimate produces a marked sensation, all the +rest turning and staring at one another. He proceeds +innocently.) All that adventure which was life or death to me, +was only a schoolgirl's game to her--chocolate creams and hide +and seek. Here's the proof! (He takes the photograph from the +table.) Now, I ask you, would a woman who took the affair +seriously have sent me this and written on it: "Raina, to her +chocolate cream soldier--a souvenir"? (He exhibits the +photograph triumphantly, as if it settled the matter beyond all +possibility of refutation.) + +PETKOFF. That's what I was looking for. How the deuce did it get +there? + +BLUNTSCHLI (to Raina complacently). I have put everything +right, I hope, gracious young lady! + +RAINA (in uncontrollable vexation). I quite agree with your +account of yourself. You are a romantic idiot. (Bluntschli is +unspeakably taken aback.) Next time I hope you will know the +difference between a schoolgirl of seventeen and a woman of +twenty-three. + +BLUNTSCHLI (stupefied). Twenty-three! (She snaps the photograph +contemptuously from his hand; tears it across; and throws the +pieces at his feet.) + +SERGIUS (with grim enjoyment of Bluntschli's discomfiture). +Bluntschli: my one last belief is gone. Your sagacity is a +fraud, like all the other things. You have less sense than even +I have. + +BLUNTSCHLI (overwhelmed). Twenty-three! Twenty-three!! (He +considers.) Hm! (Swiftly making up his mind.) In that case, +Major Petkoff, I beg to propose formally to become a suitor for +your daughter's hand, in place of Major Saranoff retired. + +RAINA. You dare! + +BLUNTSCHLI. If you were twenty-three when you said those things +to me this afternoon, I shall take them seriously. + +CATHERINE (loftily polite). I doubt, sir, whether you quite +realize either my daughter's position or that of Major Sergius +Saranoff, whose place you propose to take. The Petkoffs and the +Saranoffs are known as the richest and most important families +in the country. Our position is almost historical: we can go +back for nearly twenty years. + +PETKOFF. Oh, never mind that, Catherine. (To Bluntschli.) We +should be most happy, Bluntschli, if it were only a question of +your position; but hang it, you know, Raina is accustomed to a +very comfortable establishment. Sergius keeps twenty horses. + +BLUNTSCHLI. But what on earth is the use of twenty horses? Why, +it's a circus. + +CATHERINE (severely). My daughter, sir, is accustomed to a +first-rate stable. + +RAINA. Hush, mother, you're making me ridiculous. + +BLUNTSCHLI. Oh, well, if it comes to a question of an +establishment, here goes! (He goes impetuously to the table and +seizes the papers in the blue envelope.) How many horses did you +say? + +SERGIUS. Twenty, noble Switzer! + +BLUNTSCHLI. I have two hundred horses. (They are amazed.) How +many carriages? + +SERGIUS. Three. + +BLUNTSCHLI. I have seventy. Twenty-four of them will hold twelve +inside, besides two on the box, without counting the driver and +conductor. How many tablecloths have you? + +SERGIUS. How the deuce do I know? + +BLUNTSCHLI. Have you four thousand? + +SERGIUS. NO. + +BLUNTSCHLI. I have. I have nine thousand six hundred pairs of +sheets and blankets, with two thousand four hundred eider-down +quilts. I have ten thousand knives and forks, and the same +quantity of dessert spoons. I have six hundred servants. I have +six palatial establishments, besides two livery stables, a tea +garden and a private house. I have four medals for distinguished +services; I have the rank of an officer and the standing of a +gentleman; and I have three native languages. Show me any man in +Bulgaria that can offer as much. + +PETKOFF (with childish awe). Are you Emperor of Switzerland? + +BLUNTSCHLI. My rank is the highest known in Switzerland: I'm a +free citizen. + +CATHERINE. Then Captain Bluntschli, since you are my daughter's +choice, I shall not stand in the way of her happiness. (Petkoff +is about to speak.) That is Major Petkoff's feeling also. + +PETKOFF. Oh, I shall be only too glad. Two hundred horses! Whew! + +SERGIUS. What says the lady? + +RAINA (pretending to sulk). The lady says that he can keep his +tablecloths and his omnibuses. I am not here to be sold to the +highest bidder. + +BLUNTSCHLI. I won't take that answer. I appealed to you as a +fugitive, a beggar, and a starving man. You accepted me. You +gave me your hand to kiss, your bed to sleep in, and your roof +to shelter me-- + +RAINA (interrupting him). I did not give them to the Emperor of +Switzerland! + +BLUNTSCHLI. That's just what I say. (He catches her hand quickly +and looks her straight in the face as he adds, with confident +mastery) Now tell us who you did give them to. + +RAINA (succumbing with a shy smile). To my chocolate cream +soldier! + +BLUNTSCHLI (with a boyish laugh of delight). That'll do. Thank +you. (Looks at his watch and suddenly becomes businesslike.) +Time's up, Major. You've managed those regiments so well that +you are sure to be asked to get rid of some of the Infantry of +the Teemok division. Send them home by way of Lom Palanka. +Saranoff: don't get married until I come back: I shall be here +punctually at five in the evening on Tuesday fortnight. Gracious +ladies--good evening. (He makes them a military bow, and goes.) + +SERGIUS. What a man! What a man! + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg Etext Arms and the Man, by George Bernard Shaw + + + diff --git a/old/rmsmn10.zip b/old/rmsmn10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f074473 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/rmsmn10.zip |
