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

class="calibre1">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