Arms and the Man
CATHERINE.
How so?
SERGIUS.
I won the battle the wrong way when our worthy Russian generals were
losing it the right way. That upset their plans, and wounded their
self-esteem. Two of their colonels got their regiments driven back on
the correct principles of scientific warfare. Two major-generals got
killed strictly according to military etiquette. Those two colonels are
now major-generals; and I am still a simple major.
CATHERINE.
You shall not remain so, Sergius. The women are on your side; and they
will see that justice is done you.
SERGIUS.
It is too late. I have only waited for the peace to send in my
resignation.
PETKOFF.
(_dropping his cup in his amazement_). Your resignation!
CATHERINE.
Oh, you must withdraw it!
SERGIUS.
(_with resolute, measured emphasis, folding his arms_). I never
withdraw!
PETKOFF.
(_vexed_). Now who could have supposed you were going to do such a
thing?
SERGIUS.
(_with fire_). Everyone that knew me. But enough of myself and my
affairs. How is Raina; and where is Raina?
RAINA.
(_suddenly coming round the corner of the house and standing at the top
of the steps in the path_). Raina is here. (_She makes a charming
picture as they all turn to look at her. She wears an underdress of
pale green silk, draped with an overdress of thin ecru canvas
embroidered with gold. On her head she wears a pretty Phrygian cap of
gold tinsel. Sergius, with an exclamation of pleasure, goes impulsively
to meet her. She stretches out her hand: he drops chivalrously on one
knee and kisses it._)
PETKOFF.
(_aside to Catherine, beaming with parental pride_). Pretty, isn’t it?
She always appears at the right moment.
CATHERINE.
(_impatiently_). Yes: she listens for it. It is an abominable habit.
(_Sergius leads Raina forward with splendid gallantry, as if she were a
queen. When they come to the table, she turns to him with a bend of the
head; he bows; and thus they separate, he coming to his place, and she
going behind her father’s chair._)
RAINA.
(_stooping and kissing her father_). Dear father! Welcome home!
PETKOFF.
(_patting her cheek_). My little pet girl. (_He kisses her; she goes to
the chair left by Nicola for Sergius, and sits down._)
CATHERINE.
And so you’re no longer a soldier, Sergius.
SERGIUS.
I am no longer a soldier. Soldiering, my dear madam, is the coward’s
art of attacking mercilessly when you are strong, and keeping out of
harm’s way when you are weak. That is the whole secret of successful
fighting. Get your enemy at a disadvantage; and never, on any account,
fight him on equal terms. Eh, Major!
PETKOFF.
They wouldn’t let us make a fair stand-up fight of it. However, I
suppose soldiering has to be a trade like any other trade.
SERGIUS.
Precisely. But I have no ambition to succeed as a tradesman; so I have
taken the advice of that bagman of a captain that settled the exchange
of prisoners with us at Peerot, and given it up.
PETKOFF.
What, that Swiss fellow? Sergius: I’ve often thought of that exchange
since. He over-reached us about those horses.
SERGIUS.
Of course he over-reached us. His father was a hotel and livery stable
keeper; and he owed his first step to his knowledge of horse-dealing.
(_With mock enthusiasm._) Ah, he was a soldier—every inch a soldier! If
only I had bought the horses for my regiment instead of foolishly
leading it into danger, I should have been a field-marshal now!
CATHERINE.
A Swiss? What was he doing in the Servian army?
PETKOFF.
A volunteer of course—keen on picking up his profession. (_Chuckling._)
We shouldn’t have been able to begin fighting if these foreigners
hadn’t shewn us how to do it: we knew nothing about it; and neither did
the Servians. Egad, there’d have been no war without them.
RAINA.
Are there many Swiss officers in the Servian Army?
PETKOFF.
No—all Austrians, just as our officers were all Russians. This was the
only Swiss I came across. I’ll never trust a Swiss again. He cheated
us—humbugged us into giving him fifty able bodied men for two hundred
confounded worn out chargers. They weren’t even eatable!
SERGIUS.
We were two children in the hands of that consummate soldier, Major:
simply two innocent little children.
RAINA.
What was he like?
CATHERINE.
Oh, Raina, what a silly question!
SERGIUS.
He was like a commercial traveller in uniform. Bourgeois to his boots.
PETKOFF.
(_grinning_). Sergius: tell Catherine that queer story his friend told
us about him—how he escaped after Slivnitza. You remember?—about his
being hid by two women.
SERGIUS.
(_with bitter irony_). Oh, yes, quite a romance. He was serving in the
very battery I so unprofessionally charged. Being a thorough soldier,
he ran away like the rest of them, with our cavalry at his heels. To
escape their attentions, he had the good taste to take refuge in the
chamber of some patriotic young Bulgarian lady. The young lady was
enchanted by his persuasive commercial traveller’s manners. She very
modestly entertained him for an hour or so and then called in her
mother lest her conduct should appear unmaidenly. The old lady was
equally fascinated; and the fugitive was sent on his way in the
morning, disguised in an old coat belonging to the master of the house,
who was away at the war.
RAINA.
(_rising with marked stateliness_). Your life in the camp has made you
coarse, Sergius. I did not think you would have repeated such a story
before me. (_She turns away coldly._)
CATHERINE.
(_also rising_). She is right, Sergius. If such women exist, we should
be spared the knowledge of them.
PETKOFF.
Pooh! nonsense! what does it matter?
SERGIUS.
(_ashamed_). No, Petkoff: I was wrong. (_To Raina, with earnest
humility._) I beg your pardon. I have behaved abominably. Forgive me,
Raina. (_She bows reservedly._) And you, too, madam. (_Catherine bows
graciously and sits down. He proceeds solemnly, again addressing
Raina._) The glimpses I have had of the seamy side of life during the
last few months have made me cynical; but I should not have brought my
cynicism here—least of all into your presence, Raina. I—(_Here, turning
to the others, he is evidently about to begin a long speech when the
Major interrupts him._)
PETKOFF.
Stuff and nonsense, Sergius. That’s quite enough fuss about nothing: a
soldier’s daughter should be able to stand up without flinching to a
little strong conversation. (_He rises._) Come: it’s time for us to get
to business. We have to make up our minds how those three regiments are
to get back to Phillipopolis:—there’s no forage for them on the Sofia
route. (_He goes towards the house._) Come along. (_Sergius is about to
follow him when Catherine rises and intervenes._)
CATHERINE.
Oh, Paul, can’t you spare Sergius for a few moments? Raina has hardly
seen him yet. Perhaps I can help you to settle about the regiments.
SERGIUS.
(_protesting_). My dear madam, impossible: you—
CATHERINE.
(_stopping him playfully_). You stay here, my dear Sergius: there’s no
hurry. I have a word or two to say to Paul. (_Sergius instantly bows
and steps back._) Now, dear (_taking Petkoff’s arm_), come and see the
electric bell.
PETKOFF.
Oh, very well, very well. (_They go into the house together
affectionately. Sergius, left alone with Raina, looks anxiously at her,
fearing that she may be still offended. She smiles, and stretches out
her arms to him._)
(_Exit R. into house, followed by Catherine._)
SERGIUS.
(_hastening to her, but refraining from touching her without express
permission_). Am I forgiven?
RAINA.
(_placing her hands on his shoulder as she looks up at him with
admiration and worship_). My hero! My king.
SERGIUS.
My queen! (_He kisses her on the forehead with holy awe._)
RAINA.
How I have envied you, Sergius! You have been out in the world, on the
field of battle, able to prove yourself there worthy of any woman in
the world; whilst I have had to sit at home
inactive,—dreaming—useless—doing nothing that could give me the right
to call myself worthy of any man.
SERGIUS.
Dearest, all my deeds have been yours. You inspired me. I have gone
through the war like a knight in a tournament with his lady looking on
at him!
RAINA.
And you have never been absent from my thoughts for a moment. (_Very
solemnly._) Sergius: I think we two have found the higher love. When I
think of you, I feel that I could never do a base deed, or think an
ignoble thought.
SERGIUS.
My lady, and my saint! (_Clasping her reverently._)
RAINA.
(_returning his embrace_). My lord and my g—
SERGIUS.
Sh—sh! Let me be the worshipper, dear. You little know how unworthy
even the best man is of a girl’s pure passion!
RAINA.
I trust you. I love you. You will never disappoint me, Sergius. (_Louka
is heard singing within the house. They quickly release each other._)
Hush! I can’t pretend to talk indifferently before her: my heart is too
full. (_Louka comes from the house with her tray. She goes to the
table, and begins to clear it, with her back turned to them._) I will
go and get my hat; and then we can go out until lunch time. Wouldn’t
you like that?
SERGIUS.
Be quick. If you are away five minutes, it will seem five hours.
(_Raina runs to the top of the steps and turns there to exchange a look
with him and wave him a kiss with both hands. He looks after her with
emotion for a moment, then turns slowly away, his face radiant with the
exultation of the scene which has just passed. The movement shifts his
field of vision, into the corner of which there now comes the tail of
Louka’s double apron. His eye gleams at once. He takes a stealthy look
at her, and begins to twirl his moustache nervously, with his left hand
akimbo on his hip. Finally, striking the ground with his heels in
something of a cavalry swagger, he strolls over to the left of the
table, opposite her, and says_) Louka: do you know what the higher love
is?
LOUKA.
(_astonished_). No, sir.
SERGIUS.
Very fatiguing thing to keep up for any length of time, Louka. One
feels the need of some relief after it.
LOUKA.
(_innocently_). Perhaps you would like some coffee, sir? (_She
stretches her hand across the table for the coffee pot._)
SERGIUS.
(_taking her hand_). Thank you, Louka.
LOUKA.
(_pretending to pull_). Oh, sir, you know I didn’t mean that. I’m
surprised at you!
SERGIUS.
(_coming clear of the table and drawing her with him_). I am surprised
at myself, Louka. What would Sergius, the hero of Slivnitza, say if he
saw me now? What would Sergius, the apostle of the higher love, say if
he saw me now? What would the half dozen Sergiuses who keep popping in
and out of this handsome figure of mine say if they caught us here?
(_Letting go her hand and slipping his arm dexterously round her
waist._) Do you consider my figure handsome, Louka?
LOUKA.
Let me go, sir. I shall be disgraced. (_She struggles: he holds her
inexorably._) Oh, will you let go?
SERGIUS.
(_looking straight into her eyes_). No.
LOUKA.
Then stand back where we can’t be seen. Have you no common sense?
SERGIUS.
Ah, that’s reasonable. (_He takes her into the stableyard gateway,
where they are hidden from the house._)
LOUKA.
(_complaining_). I may have been seen from the windows: Miss Raina is
sure to be spying about after you.
SERGIUS.
(_stung—letting her go_). Take care, Louka. I may be worthless enough
to betray the higher love; but do not you insult it.
LOUKA.
(_demurely_). Not for the world, sir, I’m sure. May I go on with my
work please, now?
SERGIUS.
(_again putting his arm round her_). You are a provoking little witch,
Louka. If you were in love with me, would you spy out of windows on me?
LOUKA.
Well, you see, sir, since you say you are half a dozen different