Arms and the Man · Act I (2/2) (2/3)

| 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 Serbians 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 Serbian. I am not a native Serbian. | | Raina | Haughtily. No, you are one of the Austrians who set the Serbians 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 Serbia 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 showing 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 today. | | 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. Goodbye. 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 showed 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 show you that you are not in the house of ignorant country folk who would kill you the moment they saw your Serbian 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? |