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

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