Читать книгу Collected Works - George Bernard Shaw, Bernard Shaw - Страница 40
ОглавлениеSERGIUS.
(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 dexterously takes the photograph from the pocket and throws it on the table before Bluntschli, who covers it with a sheet of paper under the very nose of Sergius, who looks on amazed, with his suspicions roused in the highest degree. She then helps Petkoff on with his coat.) There, dear! Now are you comfortable?
PETKOFF.
Quite, little love. Thanks. (He sits down; and Raina returns to her seat near the stove.) Oh, by the bye, I’ve found something funny. What’s the meaning of this? (He put his hand into the picked pocket.) Eh? Hallo! (He tries the other pocket.) Well, I could have sworn—(Much puzzled, he tries the breast pocket.) I wonder—(Tries the original pocket.) Where can it—(A light flashes on him; he rises, exclaiming) Your mother’s taken it.
RAINA.
(very red). Taken what?
PETKOFF.
Your photograph, with the inscription: “Raina, to her Chocolate Cream Soldier—a souvenir.” Now you know there’s something more in this than meets the eye; and I’m going to find it out. (Shouting) Nicola!
NICOLA.
(dropping a log, and turning). Sir!
PETKOFF.
Did you spoil any pastry of Miss Raina’s this morning?
NICOLA.
You heard Miss Raina say that I did, sir.
PETKOFF.
I know that, you idiot. Was it true?
NICOLA.
I am sure Miss Raina is incapable of saying anything that is not true, sir.
PETKOFF.
Are you? Then I’m not. (Turning to the others.) Come: do you think I don’t see it all? (Goes to Sergius, and slaps him on the shoulder.) Sergius: you’re the chocolate cream soldier, aren’t you?
SERGIUS.
(starting up). I! a chocolate cream soldier! Certainly not.
PETKOFF.
Not! (He looks at them. They are all very serious and very conscious.) Do you mean to tell me that Raina sends photographic souvenirs to other men?
SERGIUS.
(enigmatically). The world is not such an innocent place as we used to think, Petkoff.
BLUNTSCHLI.
(rising). It’s all right, Major. I’m the chocolate cream soldier. (Petkoff and Sergius are equally astonished.) The gracious young lady saved my life by giving me chocolate creams when I was starving—shall I ever forget their flavour! My late friend Stolz told you the story at Peerot. I was the fugitive.
PETKOFF.
You! (He gasps.) Sergius: do you remember how those two women went on this morning when we mentioned it? (Sergius smiles cynically. Petkoff confronts Raina severely.) You’re a nice young woman, aren’t you?
RAINA.
(bitterly). Major Saranoff has changed his mind. And when I wrote that on the photograph, I did not know that Captain Bluntschli was married.
BLUNTSCHLI.
(much startled protesting vehemently). I’m not married.
RAINA.
(with deep reproach). You said you were.
BLUNTSCHLI.
I did not. I positively did not. I never was married in my life.
PETKOFF.
(exasperated). Raina: will you kindly inform me, if I am not asking too much, which gentleman you are engaged to?
RAINA.
To neither of them. This young lady (introducing Louka, who faces them all proudly) is the object of Major Saranoff’s affections at present.
PETKOFF.
Louka! Are you mad, Sergius? Why, this girl’s engaged to Nicola.
NICOLA.
(coming forward ). I beg your pardon, sir. There is a mistake. Louka is not engaged to me.
PETKOFF.
Not engaged to you, you scoundrel! Why, you had twenty-five levas from me on the day of your betrothal; and she had that gilt bracelet from Miss Raina.
NICOLA.
(with cool unction). We gave it out so, sir. But it was only to give Louka protection. She had a soul above her station; and I have been no more than her confidential servant. I intend, as you know, sir, to set up a shop later on in Sofia; and I look forward to her custom and recommendation should she marry into the nobility. (He goes out with impressive discretion, leaving them all staring after him.)
PETKOFF.
(breaking the silence). Well, I am—-hm!
SERGIUS.
This is either the finest heroism or the most crawling baseness. Which is it, Bluntschli?
BLUNTSCHLI.
Never mind whether it’s heroism or baseness. Nicola’s the ablest man I’ve met in Bulgaria. I’ll make him manager of a hotel if he can speak French and German.
LOUKA.
(suddenly breaking out at Sergius). I have been insulted by everyone here. You set them the example. You owe me an apology. (Sergius immediately, like a repeating clock of which the spring has been touched, begins to fold his arms.)
BLUNTSCHLI.
(before he can speak). It’s no use. He never apologizes.
LOUKA.
Not to you, his equal and his enemy. To me, his poor servant, he will not refuse to apologize.
SERGIUS.
(approvingly). You are right. (He bends his knee in his grandest manner.) Forgive me!
LOUKA.
I forgive you. (She timidly gives him her hand, which he kisses.) That touch makes me your affianced wife.
SERGIUS.
(springing up). Ah, I forgot that!
LOUKA.
(coldly). You can withdraw if you like.
SERGIUS.
Withdraw! Never! You belong to me! (He puts his arm about her and draws her to him.) (Catherine comes in and finds Louka in Sergius’s arms, and all the rest gazing at them in bewildered astonishment.)
CATHERINE.
What does this mean? (Sergius releases Louka.)
PETKOFF.
Well, my dear, it appears that Sergius is going to marry Louka instead of Raina. (She is about to break out indignantly at him: he stops her by exclaiming testily.) Don’t blame me: I’ve nothing to do with it. (He retreats to the stove.)
CATHERINE.
Marry Louka! Sergius: you are bound by your word to us!
SERGIUS.
(folding his arms). Nothing binds me.
BLUNTSCHLI.
(much pleased by this piece of common sense). Saranoff: your hand. My congratulations. These heroics of yours have their practical side after all. (To Louka.) Gracious young lady: the best wishes of a good Republican! (He kisses her hand, to Raina’s great disgust.)
CATHERINE.
(threateningly). Louka: you have been telling stories.
LOUKA.
I have done Raina no harm.
CATHERINE.
(haughtily). Raina! (Raina is equally indignant at the liberty.)
LOUKA.
I have a right to call her Raina: she calls me Louka. I told Major Saranoff she would never marry him if the Swiss gentleman came back.
BLUNTSCHLI.
(surprised). Hallo!
LOUKA.
(turning to Raina). I thought you were fonder of him than of Sergius. You know best whether I was right.
BLUNTSCHLI.
What nonsense! I assure you, my dear Major, my dear Madame, the gracious young lady simply saved my life, nothing else. She never cared two straws for me. Why, bless my heart and soul, look at the young lady and look at me. She, rich, young, beautiful, with her imagination full of fairy princes and noble natures and cavalry charges and goodness knows what! And I, a common-place Swiss soldier who hardly knows what a decent life is after fifteen years of barracks and battles—a vagabond—a man who has spoiled all his chances in life through an incurably romantic disposition—a man—
SERGIUS.
(starting as if a needle had pricked him and interrupting Bluntschli in incredulous amazement). Excuse me, Bluntschli: what did you say had spoiled your chances in life?
BLUNTSCHLI.
(promptly). An incurably romantic disposition. I ran away from home twice when I was a boy. I went into the army instead of into my father’s business. I climbed the balcony of this house when a man of sense would have dived into the nearest cellar. I came sneaking back here to have another look at the young lady when any other man of my age would have sent the coat back—
PETKOFF.
My coat!
BLUNTSCHLI.—Yes: that’s the coat I mean—would have sent it back and gone quietly home. Do you suppose I am the sort of fellow a young girl falls in love with? Why, look at our ages! I’m thirty-four: I don’t suppose the young lady is much over seventeen. (This estimate produces a marked sensation, all the rest turning and staring at one another. He proceeds innocently.) All that adventure which was life or death to me, was only a schoolgirl’s game to her—chocolate creams and hide and seek. Here’s the proof! (He takes the photograph from the table.) Now, I ask you, would a woman who took the affair seriously have sent me this and written on it: “Raina, to her chocolate cream soldier—a souvenir”? (He exhibits the photograph triumphantly, as if it settled the matter beyond all possibility of refutation.)
PETKOFF.
That’s what I was looking for. How the deuce did it get there?
BLUNTSCHLI.
(to Raina complacently). I have put everything right, I hope, gracious young lady!
RAINA.
(in uncontrollable vexation). I quite agree with your account of yourself. You are a romantic idiot. (Bluntschli is unspeakably taken aback.) Next time I hope you will know the difference between a schoolgirl of seventeen and a woman of twenty-three.
BLUNTSCHLI.
(stupefied). Twenty-three! (She snaps the photograph contemptuously from his hand; tears it across; and throws the pieces at his feet.)
SERGIUS.
(with grim enjoyment of Bluntschli’s discomfiture). Bluntschli: my one last belief is gone. Your sagacity is a fraud, like all the other things. You have less sense than even I have.
BLUNTSCHLI.
(overwhelmed). Twenty-three! Twenty-three!! (He considers.) Hm! (Swiftly making up his mind.) In that case, Major Petkoff, I beg to propose formally to become a suitor for your daughter’s hand, in place of Major Saranoff retired.
RAINA.
You dare!
BLUNTSCHLI.
If you were twenty-three when you said those things to me this afternoon, I shall take them seriously.
CATHERINE.
(loftily polite). I doubt, sir, whether you quite realize either my daughter’s position or that of Major Sergius Saranoff, whose place you propose to take. The Petkoffs and the Saranoffs are known as the richest and most important families in the country. Our position is almost historical: we can go back for nearly twenty years.
PETKOFF.
Oh, never mind that, Catherine. (To Bluntschli.) We should be most happy, Bluntschli, if it were only a question of your position; but hang it, you know, Raina is accustomed to a very comfortable establishment. Sergius keeps twenty horses.
BLUNTSCHLI.
But what on earth is the use of twenty horses? Why, it’s a circus.
CATHERINE.
(severely). My daughter, sir, is accustomed to a first-rate stable.
RAINA.
Hush, mother, you’re making me ridiculous.
BLUNTSCHLI.
Oh, well, if it comes to a question of an establishment, here goes! (He goes impetuously to the table and seizes the papers in the blue envelope.) How many horses did you say?
SERGIUS.
Twenty, noble Switzer!
BLUNTSCHLI.
I have two hundred horses. (They are amazed.) How many carriages?
SERGIUS.
Three.
BLUNTSCHLI.
I have seventy. Twenty-four of them will hold twelve inside, besides two on the box, without counting the driver and conductor. How many tablecloths have you?
SERGIUS.
How the deuce do I know?
BLUNTSCHLI.
Have you four thousand?
SERGIUS.
NO.
BLUNTSCHLI.
I have. I have nine thousand six hundred pairs of sheets and blankets, with two thousand four hundred eider-down quilts. I have ten thousand knives and forks, and the same quantity of dessert spoons. I have six hundred servants. I have six palatial establishments, besides two livery stables, a tea garden and a private house. I have four medals for distinguished services; I have the rank of an officer and the standing of a gentleman; and I have three native languages. Show me any man in Bulgaria that can offer as much.
PETKOFF.
(with childish awe). Are you Emperor of Switzerland?
BLUNTSCHLI.
My rank is the highest known in Switzerland: I’m a free citizen.
CATHERINE.
Then Captain Bluntschli, since you are my daughter’s choice, I shall not stand in the way of her happiness. (Petkoff is about to speak.) That is Major Petkoff’s feeling also.
PETKOFF.
Oh, I shall be only too glad. Two hundred horses! Whew!
SERGIUS.
What says the lady?
RAINA.
(pretending to sulk). The lady says that he can keep his tablecloths and his omnibuses. I am not here to be sold to the highest bidder.
BLUNTSCHLI.
I won’t take that answer. I appealed to you as a fugitive, a beggar, and a starving man. You accepted me. You gave me your hand to kiss, your bed to sleep in, and your roof to shelter me—
RAINA.
(interrupting him). I did not give them to the Emperor of Switzerland!
BLUNTSCHLI.
That’s just what I say. (He catches her hand quickly and looks her straight in the face as he adds, with confident mastery) Now tell us who you did give them to.
RAINA.
(succumbing with a shy smile). To my chocolate cream soldier!
BLUNTSCHLI.
(with a boyish laugh of delight). That’ll do. Thank you. (Looks at his watch and suddenly becomes businesslike.) Time’s up, Major. You’ve managed those regiments so well that you are sure to be asked to get rid of some of the Infantry of the Teemok division. Send them home by way of Lom Palanka. Saranoff: don’t get married until I come back: I shall be here punctually at five in the evening on Tuesday fortnight. Gracious ladies—good evening. (He makes them a military bow, and goes.)
SERGIUS.
What a man! What a man!
