Arms and the Man
yourself up: they’re coming!
RAINA.
(_catching the cloak eagerly_). Oh, thank you. (_She wraps herself up
with great relief. He draws his sabre and turns to the door, waiting._)
LOUKA.
(_outside, knocking_). My lady, my lady! Get up, quick, and open the
door.
RAINA.
(_anxiously_). What will you do?
MAN.
(_grimly_). Never mind. Keep out of the way. It will not last long.
RAINA.
(_impulsively_). I’ll help you. Hide yourself, oh, hide yourself,
quick, behind the curtain. (_She seizes him by a torn strip of his
sleeve, and pulls him towards the window._)
MAN.
(_yielding to her_). There is just half a chance, if you keep your
head. Remember: nine soldiers out of ten are born fools. (_He hides
behind the curtain, looking out for a moment to say, finally_) If they
find me, I promise you a fight—a devil of a fight! (_He disappears.
Raina takes off the cloak and throws it across the foot of the bed.
Then with a sleepy, disturbed air, she opens the door. Louka enters
excitedly._)
LOUKA.
A man has been seen climbing up the water-pipe to your balcony—a
Servian. The soldiers want to search for him; and they are so wild and
drunk and furious. My lady says you are to dress at once.
RAINA.
(_as if annoyed at being disturbed_). They shall not search here. Why
have they been let in?
CATHERINE.
(_coming in hastily_). Raina, darling, are you safe? Have you seen
anyone or heard anything?
RAINA.
I heard the shooting. Surely the soldiers will not dare come in here?
CATHERINE.
I have found a Russian officer, thank Heaven: he knows Sergius.
(_Speaking through the door to someone outside._) Sir, will you come in
now! My daughter is ready.
(_A young Russian officer, in Bulgarian uniform, enters, sword in
hand._)
THE OFFICER.
(_with soft, feline politeness and stiff military carriage_). Good
evening, gracious lady; I am sorry to intrude, but there is a fugitive
hiding on the balcony. Will you and the gracious lady your mother
please to withdraw whilst we search?
RAINA.
(_petulantly_). Nonsense, sir, you can see that there is no one on the
balcony. (_She throws the shutters wide open and stands with her back
to the curtain where the man is hidden, pointing to the moonlit
balcony. A couple of shots are fired right under the window, and a
bullet shatters the glass opposite Raina, who winks and gasps, but
stands her ground, whilst Catherine screams, and the officer rushes to
the balcony._)
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 Servians 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 Servian. I am not a native Servian.
RAINA.
(_haughtily_). No, you are one of the Austrians who set the Servians 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 Servia 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 shewing 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 to-day.
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,