Arms and the Man - George Bernard Shaw (black male authors txt) 📗

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