Part 6

SERGIUS. (_with bitter levity._) Not a bit. They all slashed and cursed and yelled like heroes. Psha! the courage to rage and kill is cheap. I have an English bull terrier who has as much of that sort of courage as the whole Bulgarian nation, and the whole Russian nation at its back. But he lets my groom thrash him, all the same. That’s your soldier all over! No, Louka, your poor men can cut throats; but they are afraid of their officers; they put up with insults and blows; they stand by and see one another punished like children—-aye, and help to do it when they are ordered. And the officers!—-well (_with a short, bitter laugh_) I am an officer. Oh, (_fervently_) give me the man who will defy to the death any power on earth or in heaven that sets itself up against his own will and conscience: he alone is the brave man.

LOUKA. How easy it is to talk! Men never seem to me to grow up: they all have schoolboy’s ideas. You don’t know what true courage is.

SERGIUS. (_ironically_). Indeed! I am willing to be instructed.

LOUKA. Look at me! how much am I allowed to have my own will? I have to get your room ready for you—to sweep and dust, to fetch and carry. How could that degrade me if it did not degrade you to have it done for you? But (_with subdued passion_) if I were Empress of Russia, above everyone in the world, then—ah, then, though according to you I could shew no courage at all; you should see, you should see.

SERGIUS. What would you do, most noble Empress?

LOUKA. I would marry the man I loved, which no other queen in Europe has the courage to do. If I loved you, though you would be as far beneath me as I am beneath you, I would dare to be the equal of my inferior. Would you dare as much if you loved me? No: if you felt the beginnings of love for me you would not let it grow. You dare not: you would marry a rich man’s daughter because you would be afraid of what other people would say of you.

SERGIUS. (_carried away_). You lie: it is not so, by all the stars! If I loved you, and I were the Czar himself, I would set you on the throne by my side. You know that I love another woman, a woman as high above you as heaven is above earth. And you are jealous of her.

LOUKA. I have no reason to be. She will never marry you now. The man I told you of has come back. She will marry the Swiss.

SERGIUS. (_recoiling_). The Swiss!

LOUKA. A man worth ten of you. Then you can come to me; and I will refuse you. You are not good enough for me. (_She turns to the door._)

SERGIUS. (_springing after her and catching her fiercely in his arms_). I will kill the Swiss; and afterwards I will do as I please with you.

LOUKA. (_in his arms, passive and steadfast_). The Swiss will kill you, perhaps. He has beaten you in love. He may beat you in war.

SERGIUS. (_tormentedly_). Do you think I believe that she—she! whose worst thoughts are higher than your best ones, is capable of trifling with another man behind my back?

LOUKA. Do you think she would believe the Swiss if he told her now that I am in your arms?

SERGIUS. (_releasing her in despair_). Damnation! Oh, damnation! Mockery, mockery everywhere: everything I think is mocked by everything I do. (_He strikes himself frantically on the breast._) Coward, liar, fool! Shall I kill myself like a man, or live and pretend to laugh at myself? (_She again turns to go._) Louka! (_She stops near the door._) Remember: you belong to me.

LOUKA. (_quietly_). What does that mean—an insult?

SERGIUS. (_commandingly_). It means that you love me, and that I have had you here in my arms, and will perhaps have you there again. Whether that is an insult I neither know nor care: take it as you please. But (_vehemently_) I will not be a coward and a trifler. If I choose to love you, I dare marry you, in spite of all Bulgaria. If these hands ever touch you again, they shall touch my affianced bride.

LOUKA. We shall see whether you dare keep your word. But take care. I will not wait long.

SERGIUS. (_again folding his arms and standing motionless in the middle of the room_). Yes, we shall see. And you shall wait my pleasure.

(_Bluntschli, much preoccupied, with his papers still in his hand, enters, leaving the door open for Louka to go out. He goes across to the table, glancing at her as he passes. Sergius, without altering his resolute attitude, watches him steadily. Louka goes out, leaving the door open._)

BLUNTSCHLI. (_absently, sitting at the table as before, and putting down his papers_). That’s a remarkable looking young woman.

SERGIUS. (_gravely, without moving_). Captain Bluntschli.

BLUNTSCHLI. Eh?

SERGIUS. You have deceived me. You are my rival. I brook no rivals. At six o’clock I shall be in the drilling-ground on the Klissoura road, alone, on horseback, with my sabre. Do you understand?

BLUNTSCHLI. (_staring, but sitting quite at his ease_). Oh, thank you: that’s a cavalry man’s proposal. I’m in the artillery; and I have the choice of weapons. If I go, I shall take a machine gun. And there shall be no mistake about the cartridges this time.

SERGIUS. (_flushing, but with deadly coldness_). Take care, sir. It is not our custom in Bulgaria to allow invitations of that kind to be trifled with.

BLUNTSCHLI. (_warmly_). Pooh! don’t talk to me about Bulgaria. You don’t know what fighting is. But have it your own way. Bring your sabre along. I’ll meet you.

SERGIUS. (_fiercely delighted to find his opponent a man of spirit_). Well said, Switzer. Shall I lend you my best horse?

BLUNTSCHLI. No: damn your horse!—-thank you all the same, my dear fellow. (_Raina comes in, and hears the next sentence._) I shall fight you on foot. Horseback’s too dangerous: I don’t want to kill you if I can help it.

RAINA. (_hurrying forward anxiously_). I have heard what Captain Bluntschli said, Sergius. You are going to fight. Why? (_Sergius turns away in silence, and goes to the stove, where he stands watching her as she continues, to Bluntschli_) What about?

BLUNTSCHLI. I don’t know: he hasn’t told me. Better not interfere, dear young lady. No harm will be done: I’ve often acted as sword instructor. He won’t be able to touch me; and I’ll not hurt him. It will save explanations. In the morning I shall be off home; and you’ll never see me or hear of me again. You and he will then make it up and live happily ever after.

RAINA. (_turning away deeply hurt, almost with a sob in her voice_). I never said I wanted to see you again.

SERGIUS. (_striding forward_). Ha! That is a confession.

RAINA. (_haughtily_). What do you mean?

SERGIUS. You love that man!

RAINA. (_scandalized_). Sergius!

SERGIUS. You allow him to make love to you behind my back, just as you accept me as your affianced husband behind his. Bluntschli: you knew our relations; and you deceived me. It is for that that I call you to account, not for having received favours that I never enjoyed.

BLUNTSCHLI. (_jumping up indignantly_). Stuff! Rubbish! I have received no favours. Why, the young lady doesn’t even know whether I’m married or not.

RAINA. (_forgetting herself_). Oh! (_Collapsing on the ottoman._) Are you?

SERGIUS. You see the young lady’s concern, Captain Bluntschli. Denial is useless. You have enjoyed the privilege of being received in her own room, late at night—

BLUNTSCHLI. (_interrupting him pepperily_). Yes; you blockhead! She received me with a pistol at her head. Your cavalry were at my heels. I’d have blown out her brains if she’d uttered a cry.

SERGIUS. (_taken aback_). Bluntschli! Raina: is this true?

RAINA. (_rising in wrathful majesty_). Oh, how dare you, how dare you?

BLUNTSCHLI. Apologize, man, apologize! (_He resumes his seat at the table._)

SERGIUS. (_with the old measured emphasis, folding his arms_). I never apologize.

RAINA. (_passionately_). This is the doing of that friend of yours, Captain Bluntschli. It is he who is spreading this horrible story about me. (_She walks about excitedly._)

BLUNTSCHLI. No: he’s dead—burnt alive.

RAINA. (_stopping, shocked_). Burnt alive!

BLUNTSCHLI. Shot in the hip in a wood yard. Couldn’t drag himself out. Your fellows’ shells set the timber on fire and burnt him, with half a dozen other poor devils in the same predicament.

RAINA. How horrible!

SERGIUS. And how ridiculous! Oh, war! war! the dream of patriots and heroes! A fraud, Bluntschli, a hollow sham, like love.

RAINA. (_outraged_). Like love! You say that before me.

BLUNTSCHLI. Come, Saranoff: that matter is explained.

SERGIUS. A hollow sham, I say. Would you have come back here if nothing had passed between you, except at the muzzle of your pistol? Raina is mistaken about our friend who was burnt. He was not my informant.

RAINA. Who then? (_Suddenly guessing the truth._) Ah, Louka! my maid, my servant! You were with her this morning all that time after—-after—-Oh, what sort of god is this I have been worshipping! (_He meets her gaze with sardonic enjoyment of her disenchantment. Angered all the more, she goes closer to him, and says, in a lower, intenser tone_) Do you know that I looked out of the window as I went upstairs, to have another sight of my hero; and I saw something that I did not understand then. I know now that you were making love to her.

SERGIUS. (_with grim humor_). You saw that?

RAINA. Only too well. (_She turns away, and throws herself on the divan under the centre window, quite overcome._)

SERGIUS. (_cynically_). Raina: our romance is shattered. Life’s a farce.

BLUNTSCHLI. (_to Raina, goodhumoredly_). You see: he’s found himself out now.

SERGIUS. Bluntschli: I have allowed you to call me a blockhead. You may now call me a coward as well. I refuse to fight you. Do you know why?

BLUNTSCHLI. No; but it doesn’t matter. I didn’t ask the reason when you cried on; and I don’t ask the reason now that you cry off. I’m a professional soldier. I fight when I have to, and am very glad to get out of it when I haven’t to. You’re only an amateur: you think fighting’s an amusement.

SERGIUS. You shall hear the reason all the same, my professional. The reason is that it takes two men—real men—men of heart, blood and honor—to make a genuine combat. I could no more fight with you than I could make love to an ugly woman. You’ve no magnetism: you’re not a man, you’re a machine.

BLUNTSCHLI. (_apologetically_). Quite true, quite true. I always was that sort of chap. I’m very sorry. But now that you’ve found that life isn’t a farce, but something quite sensible and serious, what further obstacle is there to your happiness?

RAINA. (_riling_). You are very solicitous about my happiness and his. Do you forget his new love—Louka? It is not you that he must fight now, but his rival, Nicola.

SERGIUS. Rival!! (_Striking his forehead._)

RAINA. Did you not know that they are engaged?

SERGIUS. Nicola! Are fresh abysses opening! Nicola!!

RAINA. (_sarcastically_). A shocking sacrifice, isn’t it? Such beauty, such intellect, such modesty, wasted on a middle-aged servant man! Really, Sergius, you cannot stand by and allow such a thing. It would be unworthy of your chivalry.

SERGIUS. (_losing all self-control_). Viper! Viper! (_He rushes to and fro, raging._)

BLUNTSCHLI. Look here, Saranoff; you’re getting the worst of this.

RAINA. (_getting angrier_). Do you realize what he has done, Captain Bluntschli? He has set this girl as a spy on us; and her reward is that he makes love to her.

SERGIUS. False! Monstrous!

RAINA. Monstrous! (_Confronting him._) Do you deny that she told you about Captain Bluntschli being in my room?

SERGIUS. No; but—

RAINA. (_interrupting_). Do you deny that you were making love to her when she told you?

SERGIUS. No; but I tell you—

RAINA. (_cutting him short contemptuously_). It is unnecessary to tell us anything more. That is quite enough for us. (_She turns her back on him and sweeps majestically back to the window._)

BLUNTSCHLI. (_quietly, as Sergius, in an agony of mortification, sinks on the ottoman, clutching his averted head between his fists_). I told you you were getting the worst of it, Saranoff.

SERGIUS. Tiger cat!

RAINA. (_running excitedly to Bluntschli_). You hear this man calling me names, Captain Bluntschli?

BLUNTSCHLI. What else can he do, dear lady? He must defend himself somehow. Come (_very persuasively_), don’t quarrel. What good does it do? (_Raina, with a gasp, sits down on the ottoman, and after a vain effort to look vexedly at Bluntschli, she falls a victim to her sense of humor, and is attacked with a disposition to laugh._)

SERGIUS. Engaged to Nicola! (_He rises._) Ha! ha! (_Going to the stove and standing with his back to it._) Ah, well, Bluntschli, you are right to take this huge imposture of a world coolly.

RAINA. (_to Bluntschli with an intuitive guess at his state of mind_). I daresay you think us a couple of grown up babies, don’t you?

SERGIUS. (_grinning a little_). He does, he does. Swiss civilization nursetending Bulgarian barbarism, eh?

BLUNTSCHLI. (_blushing_). Not at all, I assure you. I’m only very glad to get you two quieted. There now, let’s be pleasant and talk it over in a friendly way. Where is this other young lady?

RAINA. Listening at the door, probably.

SERGIUS. (_shivering as if a bullet had struck him, and speaking with quiet but deep indignation_). I will prove that that, at least, is a calumny. (_He goes with dignity to the door and opens it. A yell of fury bursts from him as he looks out. He darts into the passage, and returns dragging in Louka, whom he flings against the table, R., as he cries_) Judge her, Bluntschli—you, the moderate, cautious man: judge the eavesdropper.

(_Louka stands her ground, proud and silent._)

BLUNTSCHLI. (_shaking his head_). I mustn’t judge her. I once listened myself outside a tent when there was a mutiny brewing. It’s all a question of the degree of provocation. My life was at stake.

LOUKA. My love was at stake. (_Sergius flinches, ashamed of her in spite of himself._) I am not ashamed.

RAINA. (_contemptuously_). Your love! Your curiosity, you mean.

LOUKA. (_facing her and retorting her contempt with interest_). My love, stronger than anything you can feel, even for your chocolate cream soldier.

SERGIUS. (_with quick suspicion—to Louka_). What does that mean?

LOUKA. (_fiercely_). It means—

SERGIUS. (_interrupting her slightingly_). Oh, I remember, the ice pudding. A paltry taunt, girl.

(_Major Petkoff enters, in his shirtsleeves._)

PETKOFF. Excuse my shirtsleeves, gentlemen. Raina: somebody has been wearing that coat of mine: I’ll swear it—somebody with bigger shoulders than mine. It’s all burst open at the back. Your mother is mending it. I wish she’d make haste. I shall catch cold. (_He looks more attentively at them._) Is anything the matter?

RAINA. No. (_She sits down at the stove with a tranquil air._)

SERGIUS. Oh, no! (_He sits down at the end of the table, as at first._)

BLUNTSCHLI. (_who is already seated_). Nothing, nothing.

PETKOFF. (_sitting down on the ottoman in his old place_). That’s all right. (_He notices Louka._) Anything the matter, Louka?

LOUKA. No, sir.

PETKOFF. (_genially_). That’s all right. (_He sneezes._) Go and ask your mistress for my coat, like a good girl, will you? (_She turns to obey; but Nicola enters with the coat; and she makes a pretence of having business in the room by taking the little table with the hookah away to the wall near the windows._)

RAINA. (_rising quickly, as she sees the coat on Nicola’s arm_). Here it is, papa. Give it to me, Nicola; and do you put some more wood on the fire. (_She takes the coat, and brings it to the Major, who stands up to put it on. Nicola attends to the fire._)

PETKOFF. (_to Raina, teasing her affectionately_). Aha! Going to be very good to poor old papa just for one day after his return from the wars, eh?

RAINA. (_with solemn reproach_). Ah, how can you say that to me, father?

PETKOFF. Well, well, only a joke, little one. Come, give me a kiss. (_She kisses him._) Now give me the coat.

RAINA. Now, I am going to put it on for you. Turn your back. (_He turns his back and feels behind him with his arms for the sleeves. She dexterously takes the photograph from the pocket and throws it on the table before Bluntschli, who covers it with a sheet of paper under the very nose of Sergius, who looks on amazed, with his suspicions roused in the highest degree. She then helps Petkoff on with his coat._) There, dear! Now are you comfortable?

PETKOFF. Quite, little love. Thanks. (_He sits down; and Raina returns to her seat near the stove._) Oh, by the bye, I’ve found something funny. What’s the meaning of this? (_He put his hand into the picked pocket._) Eh? Hallo! (_He tries the other pocket._) Well, I could have sworn—(_Much puzzled, he tries the breast pocket._) I wonder—(_Tries the original pocket._) Where can it—(_A light flashes on him; he rises, exclaiming_) Your mother’s taken it.

RAINA. (_very red_). Taken what?

PETKOFF. Your photograph, with the inscription: “Raina, to her Chocolate Cream Soldier—a souvenir.” Now you know there’s something more in this than meets the eye; and I’m going to find it out. (_Shouting_) Nicola!

NICOLA. (_dropping a log, and turning_). Sir!

PETKOFF. Did you spoil any pastry of Miss Raina’s this morning?

NICOLA. You heard Miss Raina say that I did, sir.

PETKOFF. I know that, you idiot. Was it true?

NICOLA. I am sure Miss Raina is incapable of saying anything that is not true, sir.

PETKOFF. Are you? Then I’m not. (_Turning to the others._) Come: do you think I don’t see it all? (_Goes to Sergius, and slaps him on the shoulder._) Sergius: you’re the chocolate cream soldier, aren’t you?

SERGIUS. (_starting up_). I! a chocolate cream soldier! Certainly not.

PETKOFF. Not! (_He looks at them. They are all very serious and very conscious._) Do you mean to tell me that Raina sends photographic souvenirs to other men?

SERGIUS. (_enigmatically_). The world is not such an innocent place as we used to think, Petkoff.

BLUNTSCHLI. (_rising_). It’s all right, Major. I’m the chocolate cream soldier. (_Petkoff and Sergius are equally astonished._) The gracious young lady saved my life by giving me chocolate creams when I was starving—shall I ever forget their flavour! My late friend Stolz told you the story at Peerot. I was the fugitive.

PETKOFF. You! (_He gasps._) Sergius: do you remember how those two women went on this morning when we mentioned it? (_Sergius smiles cynically. Petkoff confronts Raina severely._) You’re a nice young woman, aren’t you?

RAINA. (_bitterly_). Major Saranoff has changed his mind. And when I wrote that on the photograph, I did not know that Captain Bluntschli was married.

BLUNTSCHLI. (_much startled protesting vehemently_). I’m not married.

RAINA. (_with deep reproach_). You said you were.

BLUNTSCHLI. I did not. I positively did not. I never was married in my life.

PETKOFF. (_exasperated_). Raina: will you kindly inform me, if I am not asking too much, which gentleman you are engaged to?

RAINA. To neither of them. This young lady (_introducing Louka, who faces them all proudly_) is the object of Major Saranoff’s affections at present.

PETKOFF. Louka! Are you mad, Sergius? Why, this girl’s engaged to Nicola.

NICOLA. (_coming forward _). I beg your pardon, sir. There is a mistake. Louka is not engaged to me.

PETKOFF. Not engaged to you, you scoundrel! Why, you had twenty-five levas from me on the day of your betrothal; and she had that gilt bracelet from Miss Raina.

NICOLA. (_with cool unction_). We gave it out so, sir. But it was only to give Louka protection. She had a soul above her station; and I have been no more than her confidential servant. I intend, as you know, sir, to set up a shop later on in Sofia; and I look forward to her custom and recommendation should she marry into the nobility. (_He goes out with impressive discretion, leaving them all staring after him._)

PETKOFF. (_breaking the silence_). Well, I am—-hm!

SERGIUS. This is either the finest heroism or the most crawling baseness. Which is it, Bluntschli?

BLUNTSCHLI. Never mind whether it’s heroism or baseness. Nicola’s the ablest man I’ve met in Bulgaria. I’ll make him manager of a hotel if he can speak French and German.

LOUKA. (_suddenly breaking out at Sergius_). I have been insulted by everyone here. You set them the example. You owe me an apology. (_Sergius immediately, like a repeating clock of which the spring has been touched, begins to fold his arms._)

BLUNTSCHLI. (_before he can speak_). It’s no use. He never apologizes.

LOUKA. Not to you, his equal and his enemy. To me, his poor servant, he will not refuse to apologize.

SERGIUS. (_approvingly_). You are right. (_He bends his knee in his grandest manner._) Forgive me!

LOUKA. I forgive you. (_She timidly gives him her hand, which he kisses._) That touch makes me your affianced wife.

SERGIUS. (_springing up_). Ah, I forgot that!

LOUKA. (_coldly_). You can withdraw if you like.

SERGIUS. Withdraw! Never! You belong to me! (_He puts his arm about her and draws her to him._) (_Catherine comes in and finds Louka in Sergius’s arms, and all the rest gazing at them in bewildered astonishment._)

CATHERINE. What does this mean? (_Sergius releases Louka._)

PETKOFF. Well, my dear, it appears that Sergius is going to marry Louka instead of Raina. (_She is about to break out indignantly at him: he stops her by exclaiming testily._) Don’t blame me: I’ve nothing to do with it. (_He retreats to the stove._)

CATHERINE. Marry Louka! Sergius: you are bound by your word to us!

SERGIUS. (_folding his arms_). Nothing binds me.

BLUNTSCHLI. (_much pleased by this piece of common sense_). Saranoff: your hand. My congratulations. These heroics of yours have their practical side after all. (_To Louka._) Gracious young lady: the best wishes of a good Republican! (_He kisses her hand, to Raina’s great disgust._)

CATHERINE. (_threateningly_). Louka: you have been telling stories.

LOUKA. I have done Raina no harm.

CATHERINE. (_haughtily_). Raina! (_Raina is equally indignant at the liberty._)

LOUKA. I have a right to call her Raina: she calls me Louka. I told Major Saranoff she would never marry him if the Swiss gentleman came back.

BLUNTSCHLI. (_surprised_). Hallo!

LOUKA. (_turning to Raina_). I thought you were fonder of him than of Sergius. You know best whether I was right.

BLUNTSCHLI. What nonsense! I assure you, my dear Major, my dear Madame, the gracious young lady simply saved my life, nothing else. She never cared two straws for me. Why, bless my heart and soul, look at the young lady and look at me. She, rich, young, beautiful, with her imagination full of fairy princes and noble natures and cavalry charges and goodness knows what! And I, a common-place Swiss soldier who hardly knows what a decent life is after fifteen years of barracks and battles—a vagabond—a man who has spoiled all his chances in life through an incurably romantic disposition—a man—

SERGIUS. (_starting as if a needle had pricked him and interrupting Bluntschli in incredulous amazement_). Excuse me, Bluntschli: what did you say had spoiled your chances in life?