Arms and the Man
(_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