Arms and the Man - George Bernard Shaw (black male authors txt) š
- Author: George Bernard Shaw
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CATHERINE. Where was it, Nicola?
NICOLA. Hanging in the blue closet, madam.
PETKOFF. Well, I am dā
CATHERINE (stopping him). Paul!
PETKOFF. I could have sworn it wasnāt there. Age is beginning to
tell on me. Iām getting hallucinations. (To Nicola.) Here: help
me to change. Excuse me, Bluntschli. (He begins changing coats,
Nicola acting as valet.) Remember: I didnāt take that bet of
yours, Sergius. Youād better give Raina that Arab steed
yourself, since youāve 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) Sheās dreaming, as usual.
SERGIUS. Assuredly she shall not be the loser.
PETKOFF. So much the better for her. I shanāt 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). Thatās 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) Havenāt you anything for me to sign?
BLUNTSCHLI. Not necessary. His signature will do.
PETKOFF. Ah, well, I think weāve done a thundering good dayās
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
Iāve marked on the orders the time they should hand them in by.
Tell them that if they stop to drink or tell storiesāif theyāre
five minutes late, theyāll have the skin taken off their backs.
SERGIUS (rising indignantly). Iāll say so. And if one of them
is man enough to spit in my face for insulting him, Iāll 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.
Iāll see to it. (He goes to the door importantly, but hesitates
on the threshold.) By the bye, Catherine, you may as well come,
too. Theyāll 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 nightās sleep and breakfast.
Thatās all.
RAINA. Did you get back safely that morning?
BLUNTSCHLI. Quite, thanks.
RAINA. Were they angry with you for running away from Sergiusās
charge?
BLUNTSCHLI. No, they were glad; because theyād all just run away
themselves.
RAINA (going to the table, and leaning over it towards him). It
must have made a lovely story for themāall that about me and my
room.
BLUNTSCHLI. Capital story. But I only told it to one of themāa
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
donāt mean that, do you?
RAINA (turning, with sudden earnestness). I do indeed. But they
donāt 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 donāt 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
Sergiusāno 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 wouldnāt like him
to find out that the story about the ice pudding was
aāa--aāYou know.
RAINA (wincing). Ah, donāt 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!āa 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, donāt let this worry you.
Remember: Iām 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 donāt.
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 dayāevery hour. That is how men think of
women. (She walks up the room melodramatically.)
BLUNTSCHLI (dubiously). Thereās reason in everything. You said
youād told only two lies in your whole life. Dear young lady:
isnāt that rather a short allowance? Iām quite a straightforward
man myself; but it wouldnāt last me a whole morning.
RAINA (staring haughtily at him). Do you know, sir, that you
are insulting me?
BLUNTSCHLI. I canāt 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 āI, Raina Petkoff, tell lies!ā 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, donāt 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, Iāve always gone on like thatāI 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: heās a little in that line himself, isnāt he?
RAINA (startled). Do you think so?
BLUNTSCHLI. You know him better than I do.
RAINA. I wonderāI wonder is he? If I thought thatā!
(Discouraged.) Ah, well, what does it matter? I suppose, now
that youāve found me out, you despise me.
BLUNTSCHLI (warmly, rising). No, my dear young lady, no, no, no
a thousand times. Itās part of your youthāpart of your charm.
Iām like all the rest of themāthe nurseāyour
parentsāSergius: Iām 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!āfor 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 doesnāt matter: itās 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 cleverāso 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 moreāexcept to laugh at meāoh! Are you
sure nobody has touched it?
BLUNTSCHLI. Well, I canāt be quite sure. You see I couldnāt
carry it about with me all the time: one canāt 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 thatās
the surest place to get looted in modern warfare. So I pawned
it.
RAINA. Pawned it!!!
BLUNTSCHLI. I know it doesnāt 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 (furiousāthrowing the words right into his face). You
have a low, shopkeeping mind. You think of things that would
never come into a gentlemanās head.
BLUNTSCHLI (phlegmatically). Thatās 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 telegramsāa week old. (He opens
one.) Oho! Bad news!
RAINA (rising and advancing a little remorsefully). Bad news?
BLUNTSCHLI. My fatherās dead. (He looks at the telegram with his
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