Arms and the Man · Act III (2/2) (1/4)
At the side of this table, which stands on the right, Bluntschli is hard at work, with a couple of maps before him, writing orders. At the head of it sits Sergius, who is also supposed to be at work, but who is actually gnawing the feather of a pen, and contemplating Bluntschli’s quick, sure, businesslike progress with a mixture of envious irritation at his own incapacity, and awestruck wonder at an ability which seems to him almost miraculous, though its prosaic character forbids him to esteem it. The major is comfortably established on the ottoman, with a newspaper in his hand and the tube of the hookah within his reach. Catherine sits at the stove, with her back to them, embroidering. Raina, reclining on the divan under the left hand window, is gazing in a daydream out at the Balkan landscape, with a neglected novel in her lap.
The door is on the left. The button of the electric bell is between the door and the fireplace.
Petkoff Looking up from his paper to watch how they are getting on at the table. Are you sure I can’t help you in any way, Bluntschli?
Bluntschli Without interrupting his writing or looking up. Quite sure, thank you. Saranoff and I will manage it.
Sergius Grimly. Yes: we’ll manage it. He finds out what to do; draws up the orders; and I sign ’em. Division of labour, Major. Bluntschli passes him a paper. Another one? Thank you. He plants the papers squarely before him; sets his chair carefully parallel to them; and signs with the air of a man resolutely performing a difficult and dangerous feat. This hand is more accustomed to the sword than to the pen.
Petkoff It’s very good of you, Bluntschli, it is indeed, to let yourself be put upon in this way. Now are you quite sure I can do nothing?
Catherine In a low, warning tone. You can stop interrupting, Paul.
Petkoff Starting and looking round at her. Eh? Oh! Quite right, my love, quite right. He takes his newspaper up, but lets it drop again. Ah, you haven’t been campaigning, Catherine: you don’t know how pleasant it is for us to sit here, after a good lunch, with nothing to do but enjoy ourselves. There’s only one thing I want to make me thoroughly comfortable.
Catherine What is that?
Petkoff My old coat. I’m not at home in this one: I feel as if I were on parade.
Catherine My dear Paul, how absurd you are about that old coat! It must be hanging in the blue closet where you left it.
Petkoff My dear Catherine, I tell you I’ve looked there. Am I to believe my own eyes or not? Catherine quietly rises and presses the button of the electric bell by the fireplace. What are you showing off that bell for? She looks at him majestically, and silently resumes her chair and her needlework. My dear: if you think the obstinacy of your sex can make a coat out of two old dressing gowns of Raina’s, your waterproof, and my mackintosh, you’re mistaken. That’s exactly what the blue closet contains at present. Nicola presents himself.
Catherine Unmoved by Petkoff’s sally. Nicola: go to the blue closet and bring your master’s old coat here⁠—the braided one he usually wears in the house.
Nicola Yes, madam. Nicola goes out.
Petkoff Catherine.
Catherine Yes, Paul?
Petkoff I bet you any piece of jewellery you like to order from Sofia against a week’s housekeeping money, that the coat isn’t there.
Catherine Done, Paul.
Petkoff Excited by the prospect of a gamble. Come: here’s an opportunity for some sport. Who’ll bet on it? Bluntschli: I’ll give you six to one.
Bluntschli Imperturbably. It would be robbing you, Major. Madame is sure to be right. Without looking up, he passes another batch of papers to Sergius.
Sergius Also excited. Bravo, Switzerland! Major: I bet my best charger against an Arab mare for Raina that Nicola finds the coat in the blue closet.
Petkoff Eagerly. Your best char⁠—
Catherine Hastily interrupting him. Don’t be foolish, Paul. An Arabian mare will cost you 50,000 levas.
Raina Suddenly coming out of her picturesque revery. Really, Mother, if you are going to take the jewellery, I don’t see why you should grudge me my Arab.
Nicola* comes back with the coat and brings it to Petkoff*, who can hardly believe his eyes.
Catherine Where was it, Nicola?
Nicola Hanging in the blue closet, madam.
Petkoff Well, I am d⁠—
Catherine Stopping him. Paul!
Petkoff I could have sworn it wasn’t there. Age is beginning to tell on me. I’m getting hallucinations. To Nicola. Here: help me to change. Excuse me, Bluntschli. He begins changing coats, Nicola acting as valet. Remember: I didn’t take that bet of yours, Sergius. You’d better give Raina that Arab steed yourself, since you’ve roused her expectations. Eh, Raina? He looks round at her; but she is again rapt in the landscape. With a little gush of paternal affection and pride, he points her out to them and says, She’s dreaming, as usual.
Sergius Assuredly she shall not be the loser.
Petkoff So much the better for her. I shan’t come off so cheap, I expect. The change is now complete. Nicola goes out with the discarded coat. Ah, now I feel at home at last. He sits down and takes his newspaper with a grunt of relief.
Bluntschli To Sergius, handing a paper. That’s the last order.
Petkoff Jumping up. What! finished?
Bluntschli Finished. Petkoff* goes beside Sergius*; looks curiously over his left shoulder as he signs; and says with childlike envy. Haven’t you anything for me to sign?
Bluntschli Not necessary. His signature will do.
Petkoff Ah, well, I think we’ve done a thundering good day’s work. He goes away from the table. Can I do anything more?
Bluntschli You had better both see the fellows that are to take these. To Sergius. Pack them off at once; and show them that I’ve marked on the orders the time they should hand them in by. Tell them that if they stop to drink or tell stories⁠—if they’re five minutes late, they’ll have the skin taken off their backs.
Sergius Rising indignantly. I’ll say so. And if one of them is man enough to spit in my face for insulting him, I’ll buy his discharge and give him a pension. He strides out, his humanity deeply outraged.
Bluntschli Confidentially. Just see that he talks to them properly, Major, will you?
Petkoff Officiously. Quite right, Bluntschli, quite right. I’ll see to it. He goes to the door importantly, but hesitates on the threshold. By the by, Catherine, you may as well come, too. They’ll be far more frightened of you than of me.
Catherine Putting down her embroidery. I daresay I had better. You will only splutter at them. She goes out, Petkoff holding the door for her and following her.
Bluntschli What a country! They make cannons out of cherry trees; and the officers send for their wives to keep discipline! He begins to fold and docket the papers. Raina, who has risen from the divan, strolls down the room with her hands clasped behind her, and looks mischievously at him.
Raina You look ever so much nicer than when we last met. He looks up, surprised. What have you done to yourself?
Bluntschli Washed; brushed; good night’s sleep and breakfast. That’s all.
Raina Did you get back safely that morning?
Bluntschli Quite, thanks.
Raina Were they angry with you for running away from Sergius’s charge?
Bluntschli No, they were glad; because they’d all just run away themselves.
Raina Going to the table, and leaning over it towards him. It must have made a lovely story for them⁠—all that about me and my room.
Bluntschli Capital story. But I only told it to one of them⁠—a particular friend.
Raina On whose discretion you could absolutely rely?
Bluntschli Absolutely.
Raina Hm! He told it all to my father and Sergius the day you exchanged the prisoners. She turns away and strolls carelessly across to the other side of the room.
Bluntschli Deeply concerned and half incredulous. No! you don’t mean that, do you?
Raina Turning, with sudden earnestness. I do indeed. But they don’t know that it was in this house that you hid. If Sergius knew, he would challenge you and kill you in a duel.
Bluntschli Bless me! then don’t tell him.
Raina Full of reproach for his levity. Can you realize what it is to me to deceive him? I want to be quite perfect with Sergius⁠—no meanness, no smallness, no deceit. My relation to him is the one really beautiful and noble part of my life. I hope you can understand that.
Bluntschli Sceptically. You mean that you wouldn’t like him to find out that the story about the ice pudding was a⁠—a⁠—a⁠—You know.
Raina Wincing. Ah, don’t talk of it in that flippant way. I lied: I know it. But I did it to save your life. He would have killed you. That was the second time I ever uttered a falsehood. Bluntschli rises quickly and looks doubtfully and somewhat severely at her. Do you remember the first time?
Bluntschli I! No. Was I present?
Raina Yes; and I told the officer who was searching for you that you were not present.
Bluntschli True. I should have remembered it.
Raina Greatly encouraged. Ah, it is natural that you should forget it first. It cost you nothing: it cost me a lie!⁠—a lie!! She sits down on the ottoman, looking straight before her with her hands clasped on her knee. Bluntschli, quite touched, goes to the ottoman with a particularly reassuring and considerate air, and sits down beside her.
Bluntschli My dear young lady, don’t let this worry you. Remember: I’m a soldier. Now what are the two things that happen to a soldier so often that he comes to think nothing of them? One is hearing people tell lies Raina recoils. the other is getting his life saved in all sorts of ways by all sorts of people.
Raina Rising in indignant protest. And so he becomes a creature incapable of faith and of gratitude.
Bluntschli Making a wry face. Do you like gratitude? I don’t. If pity is akin to love, gratitude is akin to the other thing.
Raina Gratitude! Turning on him. If you are incapable of gratitude you are incapable of any noble sentiment. Even animals are grateful. Oh, I see now exactly what you think of me! You were not surprised to hear me lie. To you it was something I probably did every day⁠—every hour. That is how men think of women. She walks up the room melodramatically.
Bluntschli Dubiously. There’s reason in everything. You said you’d told only two lies in your whole life. Dear young lady: isn’t that rather a short allowance? I’m quite a straightforward man myself; but it wouldn’t last me a whole morning.
Raina Staring haughtily at him. Do you know, sir, that you are insulting me?
Bluntschli I can’t help it. When you get into that noble attitude and speak in that thrilling voice, I admire you; but I find it impossible to believe a single word you say.
Raina Superbly. Captain Bluntschli!
Bluntschli Unmoved. Yes?
Raina Coming a little towards him, as if she could not believe her senses. Do you mean what you said just now? Do you know what you said just now?
Bluntschli I do.
Raina Gasping. I! I!!! She points to herself incredulously, meaning “I, Raina Petkoff, tell lies!” He meets her gaze unflinchingly. She suddenly sits down beside him, and adds, with a complete change of manner from the heroic to the familiar. How did you find me out?
Bluntschli Promptly. Instinct, dear young lady. Instinct, and experience of the world.
Raina Wonderingly. Do you know, you are the first man I ever met who did not take me seriously?
Bluntschli You mean, don’t you, that I am the first man that has ever taken you quite seriously?
Raina Yes, I suppose I do mean that. Cosily, quite at her ease with him. How strange it is to be talked to in such a way! You know, I’ve always gone on like that⁠—I mean the noble attitude and the thrilling voice. I did it when I was a tiny child to my nurse. She believed in it. I do it before my parents. They believe in it. I do it before Sergius. He believes in it.
Bluntschli Yes: he’s a little in that line himself, isn’t he?
Raina Startled. Do you think so?
Bluntschli You know him better than I do.
Raina I wonder⁠—I wonder is he? If I thought that⁠—! Discouraged. Ah, well, what does it matter? I suppose, now that you’ve found me out, you despise me.
Bluntschli Warmly, rising. No, my dear young lady, no, no, no a thousand times. It’s part of your youth⁠—part of your charm. I’m like all the rest of them⁠—the nurse⁠—your parents⁠—Sergius: I’m your infatuated admirer.
Raina Pleased. Really?
Bluntschli Slapping his breast smartly with his hand, German fashion. Hand aufs Herz! Really and truly.
Raina Very happy. But what did you think of me for giving you my portrait?
Bluntschli Astonished. Your portrait! You never gave me your portrait.
Raina Quickly. Do you mean to say you never got it?
Bluntschli No. He sits down beside her, with renewed interest, and says, with some complacency. When did you send it to me?
Raina Indignantly. I did not send it to you. She turns her head away, and adds, reluctantly. It was in the pocket of that coat.
Bluntschli Pursing his lips and rounding his eyes. Oh-o-oh! I never found it. It must be there still.
Raina Springing up. There still!⁠—for my father to find the first time he puts his hand in his pocket! Oh, how could you be so stupid?
Bluntschli Rising also. It doesn’t matter: it’s only a photograph: how can he tell who it was intended for? Tell him he put it there himself.
Raina Impatiently. Yes, that is so clever⁠—so clever! What shall I do?
Bluntschli Ah, I see. You wrote something on it. That was rash!
Raina Annoyed almost to tears. Oh, to have done such a thing for you, who care no more⁠—except to laugh at me⁠—oh! Are you sure nobody has touched it?
Bluntschli Well, I can’t be quite sure. You see I couldn’t carry it about with me all the time: one can’t take much luggage on active service.
Raina What did you do with it?
Bluntschli When I got through to Peerot I had to put it in safe keeping somehow. I thought of the railway cloak room; but that’s the surest place to get looted in modern warfare. So I pawned it.
Raina Pawned it!!!
Bluntschli I know it doesn’t sound nice; but it was much the safest plan. I redeemed it the day before yesterday. Heaven only knows whether the pawnbroker cleared out the pockets or not.
Raina Furious⁠—throwing the words right into his face. You have a low, shopkeeping mind. You think of things that would never come into a gentleman’s head.
Bluntschli Phlegmatically. That’s the Swiss national character, dear lady.
Raina Oh, I wish I had never met you. She flounces away and sits at the window fuming.
Louka comes in with a heap of letters and telegrams on her salver, and crosses, with her bold, free gait, to the table. Her left sleeve is looped up to the shoulder with a brooch, showing her naked arm, with a broad gilt bracelet covering the bruise.
Louka To Bluntschli. For you. She empties the salver recklessly on the table. The messenger is waiting. She is determined not to be civil to a Serbian, even if she must bring him his letters.