Arms and the Man | Page 7

before you would be betrothed to him. Oh, if
you have a drop of Bulgarian blood in your veins, you will worship him
when he comes back.
RAINA. What will he care for my poor little worship after the
acclamations of a whole army of heroes? But no matter: I am so
happy--so proud! (She rises and walks about excitedly.) It proves that
all our ideas were real after all.
CATHERINE (indignantly). Our ideas real! What do you mean?
RAINA. Our ideas of what Sergius would do--our patriotism--our
heroic ideals. Oh, what faithless little creatures girls are!--I sometimes
used to doubt whether they were anything but dreams. When I buckled
on Sergius's sword he looked so noble: it was treason to think of
disillusion or humiliation or failure. And yet--and yet--(Quickly.)
Promise me you'll never tell him.
CATHERINE. Don't ask me for promises until I know what I am
promising.
RAINA. Well, it came into my head just as he was holding me in his
arms and looking into my eyes, that perhaps we only had our heroic
ideas because we are so fond of reading Byron and Pushkin, and
because we were so delighted with the opera that season at Bucharest.
Real life is so seldom like that--indeed never, as far as I knew it then.

(Remorsefully.) Only think, mother, I doubted him: I wondered
whether all his heroic qualities and his soldiership might not prove
mere imagination when he went into a real battle. I had an uneasy fear
that he might cut a poor figure there beside all those clever Russian
officers.
CATHERINE. A poor figure! Shame on you! The Servians have
Austrian officers who are just as clever as our Russians; but we have
beaten them in every battle for all that.
RAINA (laughing and sitting down again). Yes, I was only a prosaic
little coward. Oh, to think that it was all true--that Sergius is just as
splendid and noble as he looks--that the world is really a glorious world
for women who can see its glory and men who can act its romance!
What happiness! what unspeakable fulfilment! Ah! (She throws herself
on her knees beside her mother and flings her arms passionately round
her. They are interrupted by the entry of Louka, a handsome, proud girl
in a pretty Bulgarian peasant's dress with double apron, so defiant that
her servility to Raina is almost insolent. She is afraid of Catherine, but
even with her goes as far as she dares. She is just now excited like the
others; but she has no sympathy for Raina's raptures and looks
contemptuously at the ecstasies of the two before she addresses them.)
LOUKA. If you please, madam, all the windows are to be closed and
the shutters made fast. They say there may be shooting in the streets.
(Raina and Catherine rise together, alarmed.) The Servians are being
chased right back through the pass; and they say they may run into the
town. Our cavalry will be after them; and our people will be ready for
them you may be sure, now that they are running away. (She goes out
on the balcony and pulls the outside shutters to; then steps back into the
room.)
RAINA. I wish our people were not so cruel. What glory is there in
killing wretched fugitives?
CATHERINE (business-like, her housekeeping instincts aroused). I
must see that everything is made safe downstairs.
RAINA (to Louka). Leave the shutters so that I can just close them if I
hear any noise.
CATHERINE (authoritatively, turning on her way to the door). Oh, no,
dear, you must keep them fastened. You would be sure to drop off to
sleep and leave them open. Make them fast, Louka.

LOUKA. Yes, madam. (She fastens them.)
RAINA. Don't be anxious about me. The moment I hear a shot, I shall
blow out the candles and roll myself up in bed with my ears well
covered.
CATHERINE. Quite the wisest thing you can do, my love. Good-night.
RAINA. Good-night. (They kiss one another, and Raina's emotion
comes back for a moment.) Wish me joy of the happiest night of my
life--if only there are no fugitives.
CATHERINE. Go to bed, dear; and don't think of them. (She goes out.)
LOUKA (secretly, to Raina). If you would like the shutters open, just
give them a push like this. (She pushes them: they open: she pulls them
to again.) One of them ought to be bolted at the bottom; but the bolt's
gone.
RAINA (with dignity, reproving her). Thanks, Louka; but we must do
what we are told. (Louka makes a grimace.) Good-night.
LOUKA (carelessly). Good-night. (She goes out, swaggering.)
(Raina, left alone, goes to the chest of drawers, and adores the portrait
there with feelings that are beyond all expression. She