Arms and the Man
solicitor. (_He pulls out the enclosures and glances over them._) Great
Heavens! Seventy! Two hundred! (_In a crescendo of dismay._) Four
hundred! Four thousand!! Nine thousand six hundred!!! What on earth
shall I do with them all?
RAINA.
(_timidly_). Nine thousand hotels?
BLUNTSCHLI.
Hotels! Nonsense. If you only knew!—oh, it’s too ridiculous! Excuse me:
I must give my fellow orders about starting. (_He leaves the room
hastily, with the documents in his hand._)
LOUKA.
(_tauntingly_). He has not much heart, that Swiss, though he is so fond
of the Servians. He has not a word of grief for his poor father.
RAINA.
(_bitterly_). Grief!—a man who has been doing nothing but killing
people for years! What does he care? What does any soldier care? (_She
goes to the door, evidently restraining her tears with difficulty._)
LOUKA.
Major Saranoff has been fighting, too; and he has plenty of heart left.
(_Raina, at the door, looks haughtily at her and goes out._) Aha! I
thought you wouldn’t get much feeling out of your soldier. (_She is
following Raina when Nicola enters with an armful of logs for the
fire._)
NICOLA.
(_grinning amorously at her_). I’ve been trying all the afternoon to
get a minute alone with you, my girl. (_His countenance changes as he
notices her arm._) Why, what fashion is that of wearing your sleeve,
child?
LOUKA.
(_proudly_). My own fashion.
NICOLA.
Indeed! If the mistress catches you, she’ll talk to you. (_He throws
the logs down on the ottoman, and sits comfortably beside them._)
LOUKA.
Is that any reason why you should take it on yourself to talk to me?
NICOLA.
Come: don’t be so contrary with me. I’ve some good news for you. (_He
takes out some paper money. Louka, with an eager gleam in her eyes,
comes close to look at it._) See, a twenty leva bill! Sergius gave me
that out of pure swagger. A fool and his money are soon parted. There’s
ten levas more. The Swiss gave me that for backing up the mistress’s
and Raina’s lies about him. He’s no fool, he isn’t. You should have
heard old Catherine downstairs as polite as you please to me, telling
me not to mind the Major being a little impatient; for they knew what a
good servant I was—after making a fool and a liar of me before them
all! The twenty will go to our savings; and you shall have the ten to
spend if you’ll only talk to me so as to remind me I’m a human being. I
get tired of being a servant occasionally.
LOUKA.
(_scornfully_). Yes: sell your manhood for thirty levas, and buy me for
ten! Keep your money. You were born to be a servant. I was not. When
you set up your shop you will only be everybody’s servant instead of
somebody’s servant.
NICOLA.
(_picking up his logs, and going to the stove_). Ah, wait till you see.
We shall have our evenings to ourselves; and I shall be master in my
own house, I promise you. (_He throws the logs down and kneels at the
stove._)
LOUKA.
You shall never be master in mine. (_She sits down on Sergius’s
chair._)
NICOLA.
(_turning, still on his knees, and squatting down rather forlornly, on
his calves, daunted by her implacable disdain_). You have a great
ambition in you, Louka. Remember: if any luck comes to you, it was I
that made a woman of you.
LOUKA.
You!
NICOLA.
(_with dogged self-assertion_). Yes, me. Who was it made you give up
wearing a couple of pounds of false black hair on your head and
reddening your lips and cheeks like any other Bulgarian girl? I did.
Who taught you to trim your nails, and keep your hands clean, and be
dainty about yourself, like a fine Russian lady? Me! do you hear that?
me! (_She tosses her head defiantly; and he rises, ill-humoredly,
adding more coolly_) I’ve often thought that if Raina were out of the
way, and you just a little less of a fool and Sergius just a little
more of one, you might come to be one of my grandest customers, instead
of only being my wife and costing me money.
LOUKA.
I believe you would rather be my servant than my husband. You would
make more out of me. Oh, I know that soul of yours.
NICOLA.
(_going up close to her for greater emphasis_). Never you mind my soul;
but just listen to my advice. If you want to be a lady, your present
behaviour to me won’t do at all, unless when we’re alone. It’s too
sharp and impudent; and impudence is a sort of familiarity: it shews
affection for me. And don’t you try being high and mighty with me
either. You’re like all country girls: you think it’s genteel to treat
a servant the way I treat a stable-boy. That’s only your ignorance; and
don’t you forget it. And don’t be so ready to defy everybody. Act as if
you expected to have your own way, not as if you expected to be ordered
about. The way to get on as a lady is the same as the way to get on as
a servant: you’ve got to know your place; that’s the secret of it. And
you may depend on me to know my place if you get promoted. Think over
it, my girl. I’ll stand by you: one servant should always stand by
another.
LOUKA.
(_rising impatiently_). Oh, I must behave in my own way. You take all
the courage out of me with your cold-blooded wisdom. Go and put those
logs on the fire: that’s the sort of thing you understand. (_Before
Nicola can retort, Sergius comes in. He checks himself a moment on
seeing Louka; then goes to the stove._)
SERGIUS.
(_to Nicola_). I am not in the way of your work, I hope.
NICOLA.
(_in a smooth, elderly manner_). Oh, no, sir, thank you kindly. I was
only speaking to this foolish girl about her habit of running up here
to the library whenever she gets a chance, to look at the books. That’s
the worst of her education, sir: it gives her habits above her station.
(_To Louka._) Make that table tidy, Louka, for the Major. (_He goes out
sedately._)
(_Louka, without looking at Sergius, begins to arrange the papers on
the table. He crosses slowly to her, and studies the arrangement of her
sleeve reflectively._)
SERGIUS.
Let me see: is there a mark there? (_He turns up the bracelet and sees
the bruise made by his grasp. She stands motionless, not looking at
him: fascinated, but on her guard._) Ffff! Does it hurt?
LOUKA.
Yes.
SERGIUS.
Shall I cure it?
LOUKA.
(_instantly withdrawing herself proudly, but still not looking at
him_). No. You cannot cure it now.
SERGIUS.
(_masterfully_). Quite sure? (_He makes a movement as if to take her in
his arms._)
LOUKA.
Don’t trifle with me, please. An officer should not trifle with a
servant.
SERGIUS.
(_touching the arm with a merciless stroke of his forefinger_). That
was no trifle, Louka.
LOUKA.
No. (_Looking at him for the first time._) Are you sorry?
SERGIUS.
(_with measured emphasis, folding his arms_). I am never sorry.
LOUKA.
(_wistfully_). I wish I could believe a man could be so unlike a woman
as that. I wonder are you really a brave man?
SERGIUS.
(_unaffectedly, relaxing his attitude_). Yes: I am a brave man. My
heart jumped like a woman’s at the first shot; but in the charge I
found that I was brave. Yes: that at least is real about me.
LOUKA.
Did you find in the charge that the men whose fathers are poor like
mine were any less brave than the men who are rich like you?
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.