Collected Works. GEORGE BERNARD SHAW
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.