Part 2

MAN. It’s good enough for a man with only you to stand between him and death. (_As they look at one another for a moment, Raina hardly able to believe that even a Servian officer can be so cynically and selfishly unchivalrous, they are startled by a sharp fusillade in the street. The chill of imminent death hushes the man’s voice as he adds_) Do you hear? If you are going to bring those scoundrels in on me you shall receive them as you are. (_Raina meets his eye with unflinching scorn. Suddenly he starts, listening. There is a step outside. Someone tries the door, and then knocks hurriedly and urgently at it. Raina looks at the man, breathless. He throws up his head with the gesture of a man who sees that it is all over with him, and, dropping the manner which he has been assuming to intimidate her, flings the cloak to her, exclaiming, sincerely and kindly_) No use: I’m done for. Quick! wrap yourself up: they’re coming!

RAINA. (_catching the cloak eagerly_). Oh, thank you. (_She wraps herself up with great relief. He draws his sabre and turns to the door, waiting._)

LOUKA. (_outside, knocking_). My lady, my lady! Get up, quick, and open the door.

RAINA. (_anxiously_). What will you do?

MAN. (_grimly_). Never mind. Keep out of the way. It will not last long.

RAINA. (_impulsively_). I’ll help you. Hide yourself, oh, hide yourself, quick, behind the curtain. (_She seizes him by a torn strip of his sleeve, and pulls him towards the window._)

MAN. (_yielding to her_). There is just half a chance, if you keep your head. Remember: nine soldiers out of ten are born fools. (_He hides behind the curtain, looking out for a moment to say, finally_) If they find me, I promise you a fight—a devil of a fight! (_He disappears. Raina takes off the cloak and throws it across the foot of the bed. Then with a sleepy, disturbed air, she opens the door. Louka enters excitedly._)

LOUKA. A man has been seen climbing up the water-pipe to your balcony—a Servian. The soldiers want to search for him; and they are so wild and drunk and furious. My lady says you are to dress at once.

RAINA. (_as if annoyed at being disturbed_). They shall not search here. Why have they been let in?

CATHERINE. (_coming in hastily_). Raina, darling, are you safe? Have you seen anyone or heard anything?

RAINA. I heard the shooting. Surely the soldiers will not dare come in here?

CATHERINE. I have found a Russian officer, thank Heaven: he knows Sergius. (_Speaking through the door to someone outside._) Sir, will you come in now! My daughter is ready.

(_A young Russian officer, in Bulgarian uniform, enters, sword in hand._)

THE OFFICER. (_with soft, feline politeness and stiff military carriage_). Good evening, gracious lady; I am sorry to intrude, but there is a fugitive hiding on the balcony. Will you and the gracious lady your mother please to withdraw whilst we search?

RAINA. (_petulantly_). Nonsense, sir, you can see that there is no one on the balcony. (_She throws the shutters wide open and stands with her back to the curtain where the man is hidden, pointing to the moonlit balcony. A couple of shots are fired right under the window, and a bullet shatters the glass opposite Raina, who winks and gasps, but stands her ground, whilst Catherine screams, and the officer rushes to the balcony._)

THE OFFICER. (_on the balcony, shouting savagely down to the street_). Cease firing there, you fools: do you hear? Cease firing, damn you. (_He glares down for a moment; then turns to Raina, trying to resume his polite manner._) Could anyone have got in without your knowledge? Were you asleep?

RAINA. No, I have not been to bed.

THE OFFICER. (_impatiently, coming back into the room_). Your neighbours have their heads so full of runaway Servians that they see them everywhere. (_Politely._) Gracious lady, a thousand pardons. Good-night. (_Military bow, which Raina returns coldly. Another to Catherine, who follows him out. Raina closes the shutters. She turns and sees Louka, who has been watching the scene curiously._)

RAINA. Don’t leave my mother, Louka, whilst the soldiers are here. (_Louka glances at Raina, at the ottoman, at the curtain; then purses her lips secretively, laughs to herself, and goes out. Raina follows her to the door, shuts it behind her with a slam, and locks it violently. The man immediately steps out from behind the curtain, sheathing his sabre, and dismissing the danger from his mind in a businesslike way._)

MAN. A narrow shave; but a miss is as good as a mile. Dear young lady, your servant until death. I wish for your sake I had joined the Bulgarian army instead of the Servian. I am not a native Servian.

RAINA. (_haughtily_). No, you are one of the Austrians who set the Servians on to rob us of our national liberty, and who officer their army for them. We hate them!

MAN. Austrian! not I. Don’t hate me, dear young lady. I am only a Swiss, fighting merely as a professional soldier. I joined Servia because it was nearest to me. Be generous: you’ve beaten us hollow.

RAINA. Have I not been generous?

MAN. Noble!—heroic! But I’m not saved yet. This particular rush will soon pass through; but the pursuit will go on all night by fits and starts. I must take my chance to get off during a quiet interval. You don’t mind my waiting just a minute or two, do you?

RAINA. Oh, no: I am sorry you will have to go into danger again. (_Motioning towards ottoman._) Won’t you sit—(_She breaks off with an irrepressible cry of alarm as she catches sight of the pistol. The man, all nerves, shies like a frightened horse._)

MAN. (_irritably_). Don’t frighten me like that. What is it?

RAINA. Your pistol! It was staring that officer in the face all the time. What an escape!

MAN. (_vexed at being unnecessarily terrified_). Oh, is that all?

RAINA. (_staring at him rather superciliously, conceiving a poorer and poorer opinion of him, and feeling proportionately more and more at her ease with him_). I am sorry I frightened you. (_She takes up the pistol and hands it to him._) Pray take it to protect yourself against me.

MAN. (_grinning wearily at the sarcasm as he takes the pistol_). No use, dear young lady: there’s nothing in it. It’s not loaded. (_He makes a grimace at it, and drops it disparagingly into his revolver case._)

RAINA. Load it by all means.

MAN. I’ve no ammunition. What use are cartridges in battle? I always carry chocolate instead; and I finished the last cake of that yesterday.

RAINA. (_outraged in her most cherished ideals of manhood_). Chocolate! Do you stuff your pockets with sweets—like a schoolboy—even in the field?

MAN. Yes. Isn’t it contemptible?

(_Raina stares at him, unable to utter her feelings. Then she sails away scornfully to the chest of drawers, and returns with the box of confectionery in her hand._)

RAINA. Allow me. I am sorry I have eaten them all except these. (_She offers him the box._)

MAN. (_ravenously_). You’re an angel! (_He gobbles the comfits._) Creams! Delicious! (_He looks anxiously to see whether there are any more. There are none. He accepts the inevitable with pathetic goodhumor, and says, with grateful emotion_) Bless you, dear lady. You can always tell an old soldier by the inside of his holsters and cartridge boxes. The young ones carry pistols and cartridges; the old ones, grub. Thank you. (_He hands back the box. She snatches it contemptuously from him and throws it away. This impatient action is so sudden that he shies again._) Ugh! Don’t do things so suddenly, gracious lady. Don’t revenge yourself because I frightened you just now.

RAINA. (_superbly_). Frighten me! Do you know, sir, that though I am only a woman, I think I am at heart as brave as you.

MAN. I should think so. You haven’t been under fire for three days as I have. I can stand two days without shewing it much; but no man can stand three days: I’m as nervous as a mouse. (_He sits down on the ottoman, and takes his head in his hands._) Would you like to see me cry?

RAINA. (_quickly_). No.

MAN. If you would, all you have to do is to scold me just as if I were a little boy and you my nurse. If I were in camp now they’d play all sorts of tricks on me.

RAINA. (_a little moved_). I’m sorry. I won’t scold you. (_Touched by the sympathy in her tone, he raises his head and looks gratefully at her: she immediately draws back and says stiffly_) You must excuse me: our soldiers are not like that. (_She moves away from the ottoman._)

MAN. Oh, yes, they are. There are only two sorts of soldiers: old ones and young ones. I’ve served fourteen years: half of your fellows never smelt powder before. Why, how is it that you’ve just beaten us? Sheer ignorance of the art of war, nothing else. (_Indignantly._) I never saw anything so unprofessional.

RAINA. (_ironically_). Oh, was it unprofessional to beat you?

MAN. Well, come, is it professional to throw a regiment of cavalry on a battery of machine guns, with the dead certainty that if the guns go off not a horse or man will ever get within fifty yards of the fire? I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw it.

RAINA. (_eagerly turning to him, as all her enthusiasm and her dream of glory rush back on her_). Did you see the great cavalry charge? Oh, tell me about it. Describe it to me.

MAN. You never saw a cavalry charge, did you?

RAINA. How could I?

MAN. Ah, perhaps not—of course. Well, it’s a funny sight. It’s like slinging a handful of peas against a window pane: first one comes; then two or three close behind him; and then all the rest in a lump.

RAINA. (_her eyes dilating as she raises her clasped hands ecstatically_). Yes, first One!—the bravest of the brave!

MAN. (_prosaically_). Hm! you should see the poor devil pulling at his horse.

RAINA. Why should he pull at his horse?

MAN. (_impatient of so stupid a question_). It’s running away with him, of course: do you suppose the fellow wants to get there before the others and be killed? Then they all come. You can tell the young ones by their wildness and their slashing. The old ones come bunched up under the number one guard: they know that they are mere projectiles, and that it’s no use trying to fight. The wounds are mostly broken knees, from the horses cannoning together.

RAINA. Ugh! But I don’t believe the first man is a coward. I believe he is a hero!

MAN. (_goodhumoredly_). That’s what you’d have said if you’d seen the first man in the charge to-day.

RAINA. (_breathless_). Ah, I knew it! Tell me—tell me about him.

MAN. He did it like an operatic tenor—a regular handsome fellow, with flashing eyes and lovely moustache, shouting a war-cry and charging like Don Quixote at the windmills. We nearly burst with laughter at him; but when the sergeant ran up as white as a sheet, and told us they’d sent us the wrong cartridges, and that we couldn’t fire a shot for the next ten minutes, we laughed at the other side of our mouths. I never felt so sick in my life, though I’ve been in one or two very tight places. And I hadn’t even a revolver cartridge—nothing but chocolate. We’d no bayonets—nothing. Of course, they just cut us to bits. And there was Don Quixote flourishing like a drum major, thinking he’d done the cleverest thing ever known, whereas he ought to be courtmartialled for it. Of all the fools ever let loose on a field of battle, that man must be the very maddest. He and his regiment simply committed suicide—only the pistol missed fire, that’s all.

RAINA. (_deeply wounded, but steadfastly loyal to her ideals_). Indeed! Would you know him again if you saw him?

MAN. Shall I ever forget him. (_She again goes to the chest of drawers. He watches her with a vague hope that she may have something else for him to eat. She takes the portrait from its stand and brings it to him._)

RAINA. That is a photograph of the gentleman—the patriot and hero—to whom I am betrothed.

MAN. (_looking at it_). I’m really very sorry. (_Looking at her._) Was it fair to lead me on? (_He looks at the portrait again._) Yes: that’s him: not a doubt of it. (_He stifles a laugh._)

RAINA. (_quickly_). Why do you laugh?

MAN. (_shamefacedly, but still greatly tickled_). I didn’t laugh, I assure you. At least I didn’t mean to. But when I think of him charging the windmills and thinking he was doing the finest thing—(_chokes with suppressed laughter_).

RAINA. (_sternly_). Give me back the portrait, sir.

MAN. (_with sincere remorse_). Of course. Certainly. I’m really very sorry. (_She deliberately kisses it, and looks him straight in the face, before returning to the chest of drawers to replace it. He follows her, apologizing._) Perhaps I’m quite wrong, you know: no doubt I am. Most likely he had got wind of the cartridge business somehow, and knew it was a safe job.

RAINA. That is to say, he was a pretender and a coward! You did not dare say that before.

MAN. (_with a comic gesture of despair_). It’s no use, dear lady: I can’t make you see it from the professional point of view. (_As he turns away to get back to the ottoman, the firing begins again in the distance._)

RAINA. (_sternly, as she sees him listening to the shots_). So much the better for you.

MAN. (_turning_). How?

RAINA. You are my enemy; and you are at my mercy. What would I do if I were a professional soldier?

MAN. Ah, true, dear young lady: you’re always right. I know how good you have been to me: to my last hour I shall remember those three chocolate creams. It was unsoldierly; but it was angelic.

RAINA. (_coldly_). Thank you. And now I will do a soldierly thing. You cannot stay here after what you have just said about my future husband; but I will go out on the balcony and see whether it is safe for you to climb down into the street. (_She turns to the window._)

MAN. (_changing countenance_). Down that waterpipe! Stop! Wait! I can’t! I daren’t! The very thought of it makes me giddy. I came up it fast enough with death behind me. But to face it now in cold blood!—(_He sinks on the ottoman._) It’s no use: I give up: I’m beaten. Give the alarm. (_He drops his head in his hands in the deepest dejection._)

RAINA. (_disarmed by pity_). Come, don’t be disheartened. (_She stoops over him almost maternally: he shakes his head._) Oh, you are a very poor soldier—a chocolate cream soldier. Come, cheer up: it takes less courage to climb down than to face capture—remember that.

MAN. (_dreamily, lulled by her voice_). No, capture only means death; and death is sleep—oh, sleep, sleep, sleep, undisturbed sleep! Climbing down the pipe means doing something—exerting myself—thinking! Death ten times over first.

RAINA. (_softly and wonderingly, catching the rhythm of his weariness_). Are you so sleepy as that?

MAN. I’ve not had two hours’ undisturbed sleep since the war began. I’m on the staff: you don’t know what that means. I haven’t closed my eyes for thirty-six hours.

RAINA. (_desperately_). But what am I to do with you.

MAN. (_staggering up_). Of course I must do something. (_He shakes himself; pulls himself together; and speaks with rallied vigour and courage._) You see, sleep or no sleep, hunger or no hunger, tired or not tired, you can always do a thing when you know it must be done. Well, that pipe must be got down—(_He hits himself on the chest, and adds_)—Do you hear that, you chocolate cream soldier? (_He turns to the window._)

RAINA. (_anxiously_). But if you fall?

MAN. I shall sleep as if the stones were a feather bed. Good-bye. (_He makes boldly for the window, and his hand is on the shutter when there is a terrible burst of firing in the street beneath._)

RAINA. (_rushing to him_). Stop! (_She catches him by the shoulder, and turns him quite round._) They’ll kill you.

MAN. (_coolly, but attentively_). Never mind: this sort of thing is all in my day’s work. I’m bound to take my chance. (_Decisively._) Now do what I tell you. Put out the candles, so that they shan’t see the light when I open the shutters. And keep away from the window, whatever you do. If they see me, they’re sure to have a shot at me.

RAINA. (_clinging to him_). They’re sure to see you: it’s bright moonlight. I’ll save you—oh, how can you be so indifferent? You want me to save you, don’t you?

MAN. I really don’t want to be troublesome. (_She shakes him in her 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 off 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!