________________________________________________
_ 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 be 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 be 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
bead.) 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.) _
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