Plays Pleasant Page 9

  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, dont 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.

  BLUNTSCHLI. You mean the – ?

  RAINA. I mean the noble attitude and the thrilling voice. [They laugh together]. 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, isnt he ?

  RAINA [startled] Oh! 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 youve 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 doesnt matter: I suppose it’s only a photograph: how can he tell who it was intended for ? Tell him he put it there himself.

  RAINA [bitterly] Yes: that is so clever! isnt it ? [Distractedly] Oh! what shall I do ?

  BLUNTSCHLI. Ah, I see. You wrote something on it. That was rash.

  RAINA [vexed 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 cant be quite sure. You see, I couldnt carry it about with me all the time: one cant take much luggage on active service.

  RAINA. What did you do with it ?

  BLUNTSCHLI. When I got through to Pirot I had to put it in safe keeping somehow. I thought of the railway cloak room; but thats the surest place to get looted in modern warfare. So I pawned it.

  RAINA. Pawned it!!!

  BLUNTSCHLI. I know it doesnt 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] Thats the Swiss national character, dear lady. [He returns to the table].

  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, shewing hernaked arm, with a broad gilt bracelet covering the bruise.

  LOUKA [to Bluntschli] For you. [She empties the salver with a fling on to the table]. The messenger is waiting. [She is determined not to be civil to an enemy, even if she must bring him his letters].

  BLUNTSCHLI [to Raina] Will you excuse me: the last postal delivery that reached me was three weeks ago. These are the subsequent accumulations. Four telegrams: a week old. [He opens one]. Oho! Bad news!

  RAINA [rising and advancing a little remorsefully] Bad news ?

  BLUNTSCHLI. My father’s dead. [He looks at the telegram with his lips pursed, musing on the unexpected change in his arrangements. Louka crosses herself hastily].

  RAINA. Oh, how very sad!

  BLUNTSCHLI. Yes: I shall have to start for home in an hour. He has left a lot of big hotels behind him to be looked after. [He takes up a fat letter in a long blue envelope]. Here’s a whacking letter from the family 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 am I to 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 [knowing instinctively that she can annoy Raina by disparaging Bluntschli] He has not much heart, that Swiss. 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, restraining her tears with difficulty].

  LOUKA. Major Saranoff has been fighting too; and he has plenty of heart left. [Raina, at the door, draws herself up haughtily and goes out]. Aha! I thought you wouldnt get much feeling out of your soldier. [She is following Raina when Nicola enters with an armful of logs for the stove].

  NICOLA [grinning amorously at her] Ive 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 puts the logs down, and seats himself comfortably on the ottoman].

  LOUKA. Is that any reason why you should take it on yourself to talk to me ?

  NICOLA. Come! dont be so contrairy with me. Ive some good news for you. [She sits down beside him. He takes out some paper money. Louka, with an eager gleam in her eyes, tries to snatch it; but he shifts it quickly to his left hand, out of her reach]. See! a twenty leva bill! Sergius gave me that, out of pure swagger. A fool and his money are soon parted. Theres 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 isnt. 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 youll only talk to me so as to remind me I’m a human being. I get tired of being a servant occasionally.

  LOUKA. Yes: sell your manhood for 30 levas, and buy me for 10! [Rising scornfully] 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. [She goes moodily to the table and seats herself regally in Sergius’s chair].

  NICOLA [picking up his logs, and going to the stove] Ah, wait til 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.

  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 [scrambling up and going to her] Yes, me. W
ho 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 turns away, adding more coolly] Ive 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 closer 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 behavior to me wont 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 dont you try being high and mighty with me, either. Youre like all country girls: you think it’s genteel to treat a servant the way I treat a stableboy. Thats only your ignorance; and dont you forget it. And dont 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: youve got to know your place: thats 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 coldblooded wisdom. Go and put those logs on the fire: thats 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. Thats 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, pretends 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. Dont trifle with me, please. An officer should not trifle with a servant.

  SERGIUS [indicating the bruise with a merciless stroke of his forefinger] That was no trifle, Louka.

  LOUKA [flinching; then 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 as 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. Thats 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 harsh 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 dont know what true courage is.

  SERGIUS [ironically] Indeed! I am willing to be instructed. [He sits on the ottoman, sprawling magnificently].

  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 would not dare: you would marry a rich man’s daughter because you would be afraid of what other people would say to you.

  SERGIUS [bounding up] 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 [turning] 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. And 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] Thats a remarkable looking young woman.

  SERGIUS [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: thats 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! dont talk to me about Bulgaria. You dont 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 dont 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 dont know: he hasnt told me. Better not interfere, dear young lady. No harm will be done: I’ve often acted as sword instructor. He wont be able to touch me; and I’ll not hurt him. It will save explanations. In the morning I shall be off home; and youll 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.