Theatre Night (1985–…): Season 4, Episode 1 - Arms and the Man - full transcript

Heavens! child,

Why are you out in the night air
instead of in your bed?
You’ll catch your death.

Louka told me you were asleep.

I sent her away.

I wanted to be alone.

The stars are so beautiful!

What's the matter?

Such news. There's been a battle!

A great battle at Slivnitza! A victory!

And it was won by Sergius.

Oh, mother! But is father safe?



Of course: he sent me the news.

Sergius is the hero of the hour,
the idol of the regiment.

Oh, mommy, tell me about it.
How was it! Describe it to me.

Oh, you can’t guess how splendid it is.
A cavalry charge—think of it, Raina!

He defied our Russian commanders—
acted without orders—

led a charge on his own responsibility—
headed it himself—

was the first man to sweep through their guns.

Can’t you see it, Raina;

our gallant splendid Bulgarians with
their swords and eyes flashing,

thundering down like an avalanche,
scattering the wretched Serbs and
their dandyfied Austrian officers like chaff.

And you—you kept Sergius waiting a year
before you'd be betrothed to him.

Oh, if you have a drop of Bulgarian blood in your veins,

you will worship him when he comes back.

Ah, but 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!

Well, it proves that all our
ideas were real after all.

Our ideas real! What do you mean?

Our ideas of what Sergius would do—

our patriotism —our heroic ideals.

I sometimes used to doubt whether
they were anything but dreams.

Oh, what faithless little creatures girls are!

When I buckled on Sergius’s sword he looked so noble:

it was treason to think of disillusion or humiliation or failure.

And yet—

Promise me you won't tell him.

Don’t ask me to keep promises until
I know what I am promising.

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 I knew it then.

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 officers from the Czar's court.

A poor figure! Shame on you!

The Serbs have Austrian officers
just as clever as the Russians;

but we have beaten them
in every battle for all that.

Oh I know, I was only a prosaic little coward.

Oh, but to think that it's all true—

that Sergius is just as splendid and noble as he looks—

and the world is really a glorious world
for women who can see its glory and
men who can act its romance!

Oh, what happiness!

What unspeakable fulfilment!

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.

The Serbs 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 they are running away.

I must see that everything is made safe downstairs.

I wish our people were not so cruel. What
glory is there in killing wretched fugitives?

Cruel? Do you suppose that
they would hesitate to kill you?

Or worse?

Leave the shutters Louka, so I can
just close them if I hear any noise.

Oh, no, my dear,

you must leave them fastened. You'd
be sure to drop asleep and they would
fall open. Make them fast, Louka.

Yes, madam.

Don't be anxious about me, mother.

The moment I hear a shot, I shall
blow out the candles and roll myself
up in bed with my ears well covered.

Quite the wisest thing you can do,
my love. Good-night.

Good-night.

Wish me joy. This is the happiest night of my life—

if only there were no fugitives.

Go to bed, dear; and don't think of them.

Miss Raina.

If you would like the shutters open,
just give them a push like this.

One of them ought to be bolted
at the bottom; but the bolt's gone.

Thanks, Louka; but we must do as we're told.

Good-night.

Good-night.

Oh, I shall never be unworthy of you, my soul's hero—

never, never, never.

Who's there?

Who's there? Who is that?

Sh! Don't call out or you'll be shot.

Be good; and no harm will happen to you.

Take care, it's no use trying to run away.
- But who are you?

Remember, if you raise your voice my revolver will go off.

Now, strike a light and let me see you.
Do you hear?

Excuse my disturbing you;

but you recognise my uniform—

Serb. If I'm caught I shall be killed.
Do you understand that?

Yes.

Well,

I don't intend to get killed if I can help it.

Do you understand that?

I suppose not. Some soldiers,
I know, are afraid to die.

All of them, dear lady,
all of them, believe me.

It is our duty to live as long as we can.

Now, if you raise an alarm—

You will shoot me.

How do you know, sir, that I am afraid to die?

Ah; but suppose I don't shoot you, what then?

A lot of your cavalry will burst
into this pretty room of yours
and slaughter me here like a pig;

for I'll fight like a demon:

they shan't get me into the street
to amuse themselves with:

I know what sort they are.

You prepared to receive that sort
of company in your present undress?

Hardly presentable, eh?

Stop!

Where are you going?

Only to get my cloak.

Good idea.

I'll wear the cloak:

and you'll take care that no one comes
in here and sees you without it.
Ha!

This is a better weapon than the revolver, eh?

It is not the weapon of a gentleman!

It's good enough for a man
with only you to stand
between him and death.

Do you hear?

If you are going to bring
those blackguards in on me
you shall receive them as you are.

Open the door! Open the door!

Wake up, will you?

- This is Major Petkoff's house!
You can't come in here!
- You could be right, sergeant.

My lady, my lady!
Get up, quick, and open the door.
Before they break it down!

You'd better get round there and check.

No use, dear:

I'm done for.

Quick! wrap yourself up: they're coming!

Oh, thanks.
- Don't mention it.

What will you do?

The first man in will find out.
Keep out of the way. Don't look. It won't last long.
But it will not be nice.

I'll help you. I'll save you.

You can't.

I can. I'll hide you.

Here, behind the curtains.

There's just half a chance,
if you keep your head.

Remember: nine soldiers out of ten are born fools.

If they find me, I promise you
a fight—a devil of a fight!

All right.

One of those beastly Serbs
has been seen climbing up
the water-pipe to your balcony.

Our men want to search for him;
and they are so wild and drunk and furious.
My lady says ...

They shall not search in here.
Why are they being let in?

Raina, my darling, are you safe?

Have you seen anyone or heard anything?

I heard the shooting.
Surely the soldiers will
not dare come in here?

I have found a Russian officer,
thank Heaven: he knows Sergius.

Will you come in, sir!
My daughter will receive you.
- Madam.

Good evening, gracious lady;
I am sorry to intrude, but there is
a Serb hiding on the balcony.

Will you and the gracious lady your mother
please to withdraw whilst we search?

Nonsense, sir, as you can see,
there is nobody on the balcony.

Take care.

There's someone at the window!

Cease firing there, you fools: do you hear?

Cease firing, damn you.

Could anyone have got in without your knowledge?

Were you asleep?

No, I have not been to bed.

Your neighbours have their
heads so full of runaway Serbs
that they see them everywhere.

Gracious lady, a thousand pardons.

Good-night.

You are not to leave my mother,
Louka, till the soldiers go away.

A narrow shave;

but a miss is as good as a mile.

Dear young lady,

your servant to the death.

I ... I only wish for your sake I'd joined
the Bulgarian army instead of the other one.
I am not a native Serb.

No, you are one of the Austrians
who set the Serbs on to rob us
of our national liberty,

and who officer their army for them.
We hate them!

Austrian! Oh, not I.

Don't hate me, dear young lady.

I am a Swiss, fighting merely as a professional soldier.

I joined the Serbs because they came
first on road from Switzerland.

Be generous: you've beaten us hollow.

Have I not been generous?

Noble!—heroic! But I'm not saved yet.

This particular rush will soon
pass through; but the pursuit
will go on all night by fits and starts.

I must take my chance to get off in a quiet interval.

You don't mind my waiting a minute or two, do you?

No. Not at all. Will you sit down?

Oh, thanks.

Don't frighten me like that. What is it?

Your revolver! It was staring
that officer in the face all the time.

What an escape!

Oh, is that all?

I am sorry to have frightened you.

Pray, take this to protect yourself against me.

No use, dear lady:

there's nothing in it. It's not loaded.

Load it by all means.

Oh, I've no ammunition.
What use are cartridges in battle?

I always carry chocolate instead;
and I finished the last cake of that hours ago.

Chocolate!

Do you stuff your pockets with sweets—
like a schoolboy—even in the field?

Yes. Isn't it contemptible?
I wish I had some now.

Allow me.

I am sorry I've eaten them all except these.

Oh! You're an angel!

Cream! Delicious!

Bless you, dear lady.

You can always tell an old soldier by
the inside of his holsters and cartridge boxes.

The young ones carry pistols and
cartridges; the old ones, grub.

Thank you.

Don't do things so suddenly, gracious lady.

It's mean to revenge yourself
because I frightened you just now.

Frightened me!

Do you know, sir,
that though I am only a woman,
I think I am at heart as brave as you.

I should think so.

You haven't been under fire for three days as I have.

I can stand two days without shewing it much; but

no man can stand three days:
I'm as nervous as a mouse.

Would you like to see me cry?

No.

If you would, all you have to do is scold me
just as if I were a little boy and you my nurse.

If I were in camp now they'd play all sorts of tricks on me.

I'm sorry.

I won't scold you.

You must excuse me: but you see,
our soldiers are not like that.

Oh, yes, they are.

There are only two sorts of soldiers:
old ones and young ones.

I've served fourteen years:
half of your fellows never
smelt powder before.

Why, how is it that you've just beaten us?
Sheer ignorance of the art of war, nothing else.

Never saw anything so unprofessional in my life.

Oh, was it unprofessional to beat you, then?

Well, come, is it professional
to throw a regiment of cavalry
on a battery of machine guns,

with the dead certainty that if the guns
ever go off not a horse or man
will get within fifty yards of the fire?

I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw it.

Did you see the great cavalry charge?

Oh, tell me about it. Describe it to me.

You never saw a cavalry charge, did you?

Well, how could I?

Ah, perhaps not—no, no, no, of course not.

Well, it's a funny sight.

It's like slinging a handful of
peas against a window pane:

first one comes;
then two or three close behind him;
and then all the rest in a lump.

Ah, the first One!—the bravest of the brave!

Hm! you should see the poor devil pulling at his horse.

Why should he pull at his horse?

It's running away with him, of course:

do you suppose the fellow wants to get
there before the others and be killed?

Then they all come.

You can tell the young ones by
their wildness and slashing.

The old ones come bunched up
under the number one guard:

they know that they are mere projectiles,
and that it's no use trying to fight.

And the wounds are mostly broken knees,
from the horses cannoning together.

Ugh!

But I don't believe the first one is
a coward. I know that he is a hero!

That's what you'd have said if you'd seen
the first man in the charge today.

Ah, I knew it! Oh, tell me—tell me about him.

He did it like an operatic tenor—

a regular handsome fellow,

with flashing eyes and lovely
moustache, shouting his battle-cry,

charging like Don Quixote at the windmills.

We did laugh.

You dared to laugh?

Yes,

but then, when the sergeant
ran up, white as a sheet,

and told us they'd sent us the wrong ammunition,

and that we couldn't fire a round
for the next ten minutes,

we laughed at the other side of our mouths.

I've never felt so sick in my life,

though I've been in one or two very tight places.

I hadn't even a revolver cartridge—only chocolate.

We'd no bayonets—nothing.

Of course, they just cut us to pieces.

And there was Don Quixote
flourishing like a drum major,

thinking he'd done the cleverest
thing ever known, whereas

he ought to be courtmartialled.

Of all the fools ever let loose on a field of battle,

that fellow must be the very maddest.

Oh, he and his regiment simply committed suicide—

only the pistol missed fire, that's all.

Indeed!

Would you know him again if you saw him?

Shall I ever forget him.

That is a photograph of the gentleman—

the patriot and hero—

to whom I am betrothed.

I'm really very sorry.

Was it fair to lead me on?

Yes: that's Don Quixote: not a doubt of it.

Why do you laugh?

No, I didn't laugh, I assure you.

At least I didn't mean to.

But when I think of him charging the windmills
and imagining he was doing the finest thing—

Give me back the portrait, sir.

Of course. Certainly. I'm ... I'm very sorry.

Perhaps I'm quite wrong, you know:

no doubt of it.

Most likely he'd got wind of
the cartridge business somehow,
and knew it was a safe job.

You mean to say, that he was a pretender and a coward!

You did not dare say that before.

It's no use, dear lady:
I can't make you see it
from the professional ...

So much the better for you.

How?

You are my enemy; and you are at my mercy.

What would I do if I were a professional soldier?

Ah, true, dear young lady: you're always right.

I know how good you've been to me:

to my last hour I shall remember
those three chocolate creams.

It was unsoldierly; but it was angelic.

Thank you.

And now I will do a soldierly thing.

You cannot stay here after what you have
just said about my future husband;

but I will go out onto the balcony
and see if it is safe for you
to climb down into the street.

Down the waterpipe! No!
Stop! Wait! I can't! I daren't!

The very thought of it makes me giddy.

I came up it fast enough with death behind me. But ...

to face it now in cold blood!

It's no use:

I give up:

I'm beaten.

Oh, give the alarm.

Come, don't be disheartened.

Oh, you are a very poor soldier—aren't you?

A chocolate cream soldier.

Cheer up:

it takes less courage to climb down
than to face capture—remember that.

No, capture only means death;

and death is sleep—

oh, sleep, sleep, sleep,

undisturbed sleep!

Oh, climbing down the pipe means doing
something—exerting myself—thinking!

Death ten times over fast.

Are you as sleepy as all that?

I've not had two hours' undisturbed sleep since I've joined up.

I haven't closed my eyes for forty eight hours.

What am I to do with you.

Of course, I must do something.

You see, sleep or no sleep, hunger
or no hunger, tired or not tired,

you can always do a thing when
you know it must be done.

Well, that pipe must be got down—

D'you hear that, you chocolate cream soldier?

But what if you fall?

Oh, I shall sleep as if the stones were a feather bed.

Good-night.

Stop! They'll kill you.

Doesn't matter:

it's all in my day's work.
I'm bound to take my chance.

Now do as I tell you.

Put out the candle, so that they shan't
see the light when I open the shutters.

Keep away from the window, whatever you do.

If they see me, they're sure to have a shot at me.

But they're sure to see you: it's bright moonlight.

I'll save you—

oh, how can you be so indifferent?

You want me to save you, don't you?

I don't want to be troublesome.

I am not indifferent, dear young lady,
I assure you. But how is it to be done?

Oh, come away from the window—

please.

Now listen.

You must trust to our hospitality.

You do not yet know in whose
house you are. I am a Petkoff.

A Pet..., what?

I mean to say that I belong
to the family of the Petkoffs,

the richest and the best known in our country.

Oh, yes, of course. I beg your pardon.

The Petkoffs, to be sure, eh.

How stupid of me!

You know you never heard
of them until this moment.
How can you stoop to pretend?

Forgive me: I'm too tired to think;

and the change of subject was too much for me.

Don't scold me.

I am sorry. I forgot.

It might make you cry.

Now listen ...

I must tell you that my father
holds the highest position of
any Bulgarian in our army.

He is ...

a Major.

A Major! Bless me! Think of that!

You shewed great ignorance in thinking it
necessary to climb up to the balcony,

because ours is the only private house
with two rows of windows.

There is a flight of stairs inside to get up and down by.

Stairs! How grand!

You live in great luxury indeed, dear young lady.

Do you know what a library is?

A library? Uh... A roomful of books?
- Uh huh.

We have one, the only one in Bulgaria.

Actually a real library!
I should like to see that.

I tell you these things to shew
you that you're not in the house
of some ignorant country folk, who

would kill you the moment
they saw your Serbian uniform,

but among civilized people.
We go to Bucharest every year
for the opera season;

and I have spent a whole month in Vienna.

Oh, I saw that, dear young lady.
I saw at once that you knew the world.

Have you ever seen the great opera of Ernani?

Uh... Is that the one with the devil in it
in red velvet, and a soldiers' chorus?

No!

Oh, then I don't know it.

I thought you might have remembered
the great scene where Ernani,

flying from his foes just as you are tonight,

takes refuge in the castle of his
bitterest enemy, a Castilian noble.

The noble refuses to give him up.
His guest is sacred to him.

Have your people got that notion?

My mother and I understand that notion, as you call it.

And if instead of threatening me
with your pistol, you had simply thrown
yourself as a fugitive on our hospitality,

you would have been as safe as in your father's house.

Quite sure?

Oh, it is useless to try to make you understand.

Oh, don't be angry:

you see how awkward it would be
for me if there were any mistake.

My father is a very hospitable man:
he keeps six hotels;

but I couldn't trust him as far as that.

What about your father?

He is away at Slivnitza fighting for his country.

I answer for your safety.

There is my hand in pledge of it.
Will that reassure you?

Better not touch my hand,
dear young lady.
I... I must have a wash first.

That is very nice of you.
I see that you are a gentleman.

Eh?

You must not think that I am surprised.

Bulgarians of really good standing—
people in our position—

wash their hands nearly every day.

So you can see that I can appreciate your delicacy.

You may take my hand.

Thanks, gracious young lady: I feel safe at last.

And now would you mind breaking the news to your mother?

I had better not stay here secretly longer than is necessary.

If you will be so good as to keep
perfectly still whilst I am away.

Certainly.

You are not going to sleep, are you?

Do you hear? Wake up: you are falling asleep.

Falling asleep?
No, no, not the least in the world:
I assure you. I... I was only thinking.

It's all right: I'm wide awake.

Will you please stand up whilst I am away.

Certainly.

All of the time, mind.

Certainly: you may depend on me.

Sleep, sleep, sleep ...

Where am I? That's what I want to know: where am I?

Must keep awake.

Nothing keeps me awake except danger—remember that—

danger, danger, danger ...

Where's danger? Must find it.

Oh, what am I looking for?
Sleep—danger—I don't know.

Ah, yes:

now I know.

I'm to go to bed,

but not to sleep—

be sure not to sleep—because of danger.

Not to lie down, either, only—

only sit down.

He's gone! I left him here.

Here! Then he must have climbed down...

Fast asleep. The brute!

Sir!

Sir!

Sir!

Don't, mamma: poor darling
is worn out. Let him sleep.

Poor darling!

Raina!!!

Be warned in time, Louka:

mend your manners.

I know the mistress.

She is so grand that she never
dreams that any servant could
dare to be disrespectful to her;

but if she once suspects that
you are defying her, out you go.

I do defy her. I will defy her.

What do I care for her?

If you quarrel with the family,
I never can marry you.

It's the same as if you quarrelled with me!

You take her part against me, do you?

I shall always be dependent
on the good will of the family.

When I leave their service and start a shop in Sofia,

their custom will be half my capital:
and a bad word would ruin me.

You have no spirit.

I should like to catch them
saying a word against me!

I should have expected more sense
from you, Louka. But ...

you're young, you're young!

Yes;

and you like me the better for it, don't you?

But I know some family secrets
they wouldn't care to have told,
young as I am.

Let them quarrel with me if they dare!

Do you know what they'd do
if they heard you talk like that?

What could they do?

Discharge you for untruthfulness.

Who'd believe any stories you told after that?

Who'd give you another situation?

Who in this house would dare
be seen speaking to you ever again?

How long would your father
be left on his little farm?

Child,

you don't know the power such high
people have over the like of you and me,

when we try to rise out of our poverty against them.

Look at me,

ten years in their service.

Do you think I know no secrets?

I know things about the mistress that
she wouldn't have the master know

for a thousand levas.

I know things about him that
she wouldn't let him hear
the last of for six months

if I blabbed them to her.

I know things about Raina that would
break off her match with Sergius if—

How do you know?

I never told you!

So that's your little secret, is it?

I thought it might be something like that.

Well, you take my advice,

be respectful; and make the mistress feel
that no matter what you know or don't know,

she can depend on you to hold your
tongue and serve the family faithfully.

That's what they like;

and that's how you'll make most out of them.

You have the soul of a servant, Nicola.

Yes:

that's the secret of success in service.

Hello!

Hello there! Nicola!

- Master! back from the war!
- My word for it, Louka, the war's over.

Off with you and get some fresh coffee.

You'll never put the soul of a servant into me.

Breakfast out here, eh?

Yes, sir. The mistress and Miss Raina have just gone in.

Well, go in

and say I've come;

and bring me some fresh coffee.

It's coming, sir.

Have you told the mistress yet?

Yes: she's coming.

The Serbs haven't run away with you, have they?

No, sir.

That's right.

Have you brought me some cognac?

Here, sir.

That's right.

Oh my dear, what a lovely surprise for us.

Have they brought you some fresh coffee?

Louka's been looking after me.

The war's over.

The treaty was signed three days ago at Bucharest;

and the decree for our army
to demobilize was issued yesterday.

Paul:

have you let the Austrians force you to make peace?

My dear: they didn't consult me.

What could I do?

Got to be quite sure, the treaty was an honorable one.

It declares peace—

Peace!

but not friendly relations: remember that.

They wanted to put that in; but I
insisted on its being struck out.

What more could I do?

You ... you could've annexed Serbia and made
Prince Alexander Emperor of the Balkans.

That's what I would have done.

I don't doubt that in the least, my dear.

But I would have had to subdue
the whole Austrian Empire first;

and that would have kept me away from you.

And I've missed you greatly.

How have you been, mmm?

Oh, my usual sore throats, that's all.

Oh, that comes from
washing your neck too often.
I've often told you so.

Nonsense, Paul!

I don't believe in going too far with these modern customs.

All this washing can't be healthy. I mean,

it's not natural.

There was an Englishman at Philippopolis
who used to wet himself all over with cold
water every morning when he got up.

Disgusting!

It all comes from the English:

their climate is so dirty that they have
to be perpetually washing themselves.

My father: never had a bath in his life;

lived to be ninety-eight, healthiest man in Bulgaria.

I don't mind a good wash once
a week to keep up my position;

but every day! Carrying things to a ridiculous extreme.

Paul, you are a barbarian at heart still.

I hope you behaved yourself before all those Russian officers.

I did my best.

I took care to show them we ... have a library.

Ah; but you didn't tell them that
we have an electric bell in it?

I had one put up.

What's an electric bell?

You touch a button;

something tinkles in the kitchen;
and Nicola comes up.

Why not shout for him?

Civilized people don't shout for their servants, Paul.

I've learnt that while you were away.

I'll tell you I've learnt something , too.

Civilized people don't hang out their
washing where visitors can see it; so

you'd better have all that put somewhere else.

That's absurd, Paul: I don't believe
really refined people notice such things.

Gate!

Nicola!

There's Sergius.

Nicola!

Don't shout, Paul: it really isn't nice.

Bosh!

Nicola!

Yes, sir.

Are you deaf?
Can't you hear Major Saranoff?

Yes, Major.

You must talk to him, my dear,

until Raina takes him off our hands.

He bores my life out
about not promoting him—
over my head, if you please.

He'll have to get a promotion when he marries Raina.

Besides, the country should insist on
having at least one native general.

Eh?

So that he can throw away whole
brigades instead of regiments.

It's no use, my dear: he hasn't
the slightest chance of promotion
until we are quite sure that the peace will be a lasting one.

Major Sergius Saranoff!

Whoa, there, my old warrior.

Here already, Sergius.

Glad to see you!

My dear Sergius!

My dear mother, if I may call you so.

Mother-in-law, Sergius; mother-in-law!

Sit down, have some coffee.

Thank you, none for me.

You look superb.

The campaign has improved you, Sergius.

Everybody here is mad about you.

We were all wild with enthusiasm
about your magnificent cavalry charge.

Madam: it was the cradle and
the grave of my military reputation.

How so?

I won the battle the wrong way
when our worthy Russian generals
were losing it the right way. In short,

I upset their plans, and wounded their self-esteem.

Two cossack colonels had their
regiments routed on the most
correct principles of scientific warfare.

Two major-generals got killed strictly
according to military etiquette.

The two colonels are now major-generals;

and I am still a simple major.

You shall not remain so, Sergius.

The women are on your side;
and we will see that justice is done you.

It is too late.

I have only waited for the peace to send in my resignation.

Your resignation!
Oh, you must withdraw it!

I never withdraw!
- Never!

Who would suppose you would do such a thing?

Everyone that knew me.
But enough of myself and my affairs.

How is Raina;

and where is Raina?

Raina is here.

Pretty, isn't it? She always appears at the right moment.

Yes: she listens for it. It is an abominable habit.

Daddy!

Welcome home!

Oh, my little pet, oh.

And so Sergius, you're no longer a soldier.

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.

Well, they wouldn't let us stand up and make a fair fight of it.

Well, I suppose soldiering is a trade like any other trade.

Precisely.

But I have no ambition to shine as a tradesman;

so I have taken the advice of that bagman of a captain

that settled the exchange of prisoners at Peerot, and given it up.

What, that Swiss fellow?

I've often thought of that exchange since.
He over-reached us about those horses.

Well, of course he over-reached us.

His father was a hotel and livery stable keeper;

he owed his first step to his knowledge of horse-dealing.

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!

A Swiss?

What was he doing in the Serbian army?

A volunteer of course—keen on
picking up his profession.

We wouldn'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 Serbs.

Are there many Swiss officers in the Serbian Army?

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 humbugged us

into giving him fifty able bodied men
for two hundred worn out chargers.

They weren't even eatable!

We were two innocent children
in the hands of that consummate soldier, Major:

simply two innocent little children.

What was he like?

Oh, Raina, what a silly question!

He was like a commercial traveller in uniform.
Bourgeois to his boots.

Sergius! Tell Catherine that queer
story his friend told us — about

how he escaped after Slivnitza.

You remember?

—about his being hid by two women.

Oh, yes, quite a romance.

He was serving in the very battery
that 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 sabers,

he climbed up the waterpipe and made his way
to the bedroom of a young Bulgarian lady.

The young lady was enchanted
by his 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.

Your life in the camp has made you coarse, Sergius.

I did not think you would have
repeated such a story before me.

She's right, Sergius.

If such women exist, we should be
spared the knowledge of them.

Oh! Pooh! nonsense! what does it matter?

No, Petkoff: I was wrong.

I beg your pardon.
I have behaved abominably.

Forgive me, Raina.

And you, too, madam.

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, Raina—
least of all into your presence. I—

Stuff and nonsense, Sergius.
I've never heard so much fuss about nothing:

a soldier's daughter should be able
to stand upwithout flinching
to a little strong conversation.

Come: it's time for us to get to business.

We have to make up our minds
about how to get those three
regiments back to Philippopolis :

there's no forage for them
on the Sofia route, you see.
Now come along.

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.

Impossible, dear madam, : you—

No, you stay, my dear Sergius: there's no hurry.

I want a word or two with Paul myself.

Now, dear ...

come and see the electric bell.

Am I forgiven?

My hero!

My king.

My queen!

Oh, how I have envied you, Sergius!

You've 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.

Dearest, all my deeds have been yours.
You have inspired me.

I have gone through the war
like a knight in a tournament
with his lady looking down at him.

And you have never been absent
from my thoughts for a moment.

Sergius:

I think we two have found the higher love.

When I think of you, I feel
I could never do a base deed,

or think an ignoble thought.

My lady, and my saint!

My lord, my ma(ster).
- Sh—sh!

Let me be the worshipper, dear.

You little know how unworthy even
the best man is of a girl's pure passion!

I trust you.

I love you.

You will never disappoint me, Sergius.

I can't pretend to talk indifferently before her:

my heart is too full.

I will go and get my hat; and then
we can go out until lunch time.

Wouldn't you like that?

Be quick. If you are five minutes,
it will seem like five hours.

Louka:

do you know what the higher love is?

No, sir.

Very fatiguing thing to keep up
for any length of time, Louka.

One feels the need of some relief after it.

Perhaps you would like some coffee, sir?

Thank you, Louka.

Oh, sir, you know I didn't mean that.

I'm surprised at you!

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?

Do you consider this figure handsome, Louka?

Let me go, sir. I shall be disgraced.

Oh, will you let go?

No.

Then stand back where we can't be seen.
Have you no common sense?

Ah, that's reasonable.

I may have been seen from the windows:

Miss Raina is sure to be spying about after you.

Take care, Louka.

I may be worthless enough to betray the higher love;

but do not you insult it.

Not for the world, sir, I'm sure.

May I go on with my work please, now?

You are a provoking little witch, Louka.

If you were in love with me,

would you spy out of windows on me?

Well, you see, sir, since you say
you are half a dozen different
gentlemen all at once,

I'd have a great deal to look after.

Witty as well as pretty.

No,

I don't want your kisses.

Gentlefolk are all alike—

you making love to me behind Miss Raina's back,

she doing the same behind yours.

- Louka!
- It shews how little you really care!

If ...

our conversation is to continue, Louka,
you will please remember that a gentleman
does not discuss the conduct of the lady he is engaged to with her maid.

It's so hard to know what a gentleman considers right.

I thought by your trying to kiss me
that you'd given up being so particular.

Devil!

Devil!

I expect one of the six of you is very like me, sir,

though I am only Miss Raina's maid.

Which one of the six is the real man?—
that's the question that torments me.

One of them is a hero, another a buffoon, another a humbug,

another perhaps a bit of a blackguard.

And one, at least, is a coward—

jealous, like all cowards.
Louka.

Yes?

Who is my rival?

You shall never get that out of me, for love or money.

Why?

Never mind why.

Besides, you would tell that I told you;
and I should lose my place.

No; on the honor of —

—on the honor of a man capable of
behaving as I have been behaving
for the last five minutes.

Who is he?

I don't know.

I never saw him.
I only heard his voice
through the door of her room.

Damnation! How dare you?

Oh, I mean no harm:

you've no right to take up my words like that.

But the mistress knows all about it.

And I tell you,

if that gentleman ever comes here
again, Miss Raina will marry him,
whether he likes it or not.

I know the difference between the sort
of manner you and she put on before
one another and the real manner.

Now listen you to me!

Not so tight: you're hurting me!

That doesn't matter.

You have stained my honor
by making me a party
to your eavesdropping.

And you have betrayed your mistress—

Please—
- Sh-Sh.

That shews you are an abominable
little clod of common clay,
with the soul of a servant.

You know how to hurt with your
tongue as well as with your hands.

But I don't care,

now I've found out

that whatever clay I'm made of,
you're made of the same.

As for her, she's a liar;

and her fine airs are a cheat;
and I'm worth six of her.

Louka!

A gentleman has no right to hurt
a woman under any circumstances.

I beg your pardon.

That sort of apology may satisfy a lady.

Of what use is it to a servant?
- Ah!

You wish to be paid for the hurt?

I want my hurt made well.

How?

Never!

I'm ready!

What's the matter?
Have you been flirting with Louka?

No, no.

How can you think such a thing?

Oh, forgive me, dear:

it was only a jest. I am so happy to-day.

I am sorry to disturb you, children;

but Paul is distracted over those
three regiments. He does not know
how to send them to Philippopolis ;

and he objects to every suggestion of mine.

You must come in and help, Sergius.
He is in here.

But we're just going for a walk.

I shall not be long.
Wait just five minutes.

I shall wait in full view of the library
windows. Be sure you draw father's
attention to me.

And if you're a moment longer than
five minutes, I shall go in and fetch you,
regiments or no regiments.

Very well. Ah!

Imagine, them meeting that Swiss
and him telling them the whole story!

The very first thing your father
asked for was the old coat
we sent him off in.

A nice mess you've got us into!

The little beast!

Little beast!

What little beast?

To go and tell!

Oh, if I had him here,
I'd cram him with chocolate creams
till he couldn't ever speak again!

Don't talk such stuff.

Tell me the truth, Raina.

How long was he in your room before you came to me?

Oh, I forget.

You cannot forget!

Did he really climb up after the soldiers were gone,

or was he there when the officer searched the room?

No.

Oh yes,

I think he must have been there then.

You think!

Oh, Raina, Raina!

Is anything ever straightforward with you?

If Sergius is to find out,
it will be all over between you.

Oh, I know Sergius is your pet.

I sometimes wish you could marry him instead of me.

You would just suit him.

You could pet him, and spoil him,
and mother him to perfection.

Well, upon my word!

I always feel a longing to do or
say something dreadful to him—

to shock his propriety—

to scandalize the five senses out of him!

I don't care whether he finds out about
the chocolate cream soldier or not.

I half hope he may.

And what should I be able to tell to your father, pray?

Poor father!

As if he could help himself!

Oh, if you were only ten years younger!

There's a gentleman just called, madam—

a Serbian officer—

A Serb!

And how dare he—

I forgot.

We're at peace now.

I suppose we shall have them calling
every day to pay their compliments.

Well,

if he is an officer why don't you
tell your master? He is in the library
with Major Saranoff.

Why do you come to me?

But he's asking for you, madam.

And I don't think he knows who you are:
he said the lady of the house.

He gave me this little ticket for you.

"Captain Bluntschli!"

That's a German name.

Swiss, madam.

Swiss!

What's he like?

He has a big carpet bag, madam.

Oh, Heavens,

he's come to return the coat!

Send him away—
say we're not at home—
ask him to leave his address

and I'll write to him—

No, stop:

that will never do. Wait!

The master and Major Saranoff
are busy in the library, aren't they?

Yes, madam.

Bring the gentleman out here at once.

Be very polite to him. Don't delay.

Here,

leave that here; and go straight back to him.

Yes, madam.

Louka!

Yes, madam.

Is the library door shut?

I think so, madam.

If not, shut it as you pass through.
- Yes, madam.

Stop!

Tell Nicola to bring his bag here after him. Don't forget.

His bag?
- Yes,

here, as soon as possible.

Be quick!

How—how—how—

can a man be such a fool!

Such a moment to select!

"Captain Bluntschli;"

Captain Bluntschli,

I am very glad to see you;

but you must leave this house at once.

My husband with my future
son-in-law have just returned,
they know nothing.

If they did, the consequences would be terrible.

You are a foreigner: you do not feel
our national animosities as we do.

We still hate the Serbs:

the effect of the peace on my husband
has been to make him feel like
a lion baulked of his prey.

If he were to discover our secret,

he would never forgive me;
and my daughter's life would hardly be safe.

Will you, as the chivalrous gentleman and soldier that you are,

please leave this house at once before he finds you here?

At once, gracious lady.

I only came to thank you and
to return the coat you lent me.

If you will allow me to take it out of my bag
and leave it with your servant as I pass out,

I need detain you no further.

Oh, you cannot not think of going that way out.

This is the shortest way.

Many thanks.

So glad to have been of service to you.

Good-bye.

But my bag?
- Oh!

I will send it on to you.
You will leave me your address.

My dear Captain Bluntschli—

Those stupid people of mine
thought I was out here,
instead of in the—library.

I saw you through the window.
I was wondering why you didn't come in.

Saranoff is with me: you remember him, don't you?

Welcome, our friend the enemy!

No longer the enemy, happily.

I hope you've come as a friend,
and not about prisoners or horses.

Oh, quite as a friend, Paul.
I was just asking Captain Bluntschli to stay to lunch;

but he declares he must leave at once.

Impossible, Bluntschli. We want you here badly.

We have to send on three cavalry
regiments to Philippopolis ; and we
don't in the least know how to do it.

Philippopolis!

The forage is the trouble, I suppose?

That's it. You see, he sees the whole thing at once.

I think I can shew you how to manage that.
- Invaluable man! Come along!

Oh, the chocolate cream soldier!

Oh Raina,

can't you see that we have
a guest here—Captain Bluntschli,

one of our new Serbian friends?

How silly of me!

I made a beautiful ornament
this morning for the ice pudding;
and that stupid Nicola has just put down a pile of plates on it and spoiled it.

I hope you didn't think that you were
the chocolate cream soldier, Captain Bluntschli.

I can assure you I did.

Your explanation was a relief.

And since when, pray, have you taken to cooking?

Oh, while you were away. It is her latest fancy.

Oh, and has Nicola taken to drinking?

He used to be careful enough.

First he shews Captain Bluntschli
out here when he knew perfectly well

that I was in the library;
and then he goes downstairs and
breaks Miss Raina's chocolate soldier.

He must be—

Are you mad, Nicola?

Sir?

What have you brought that for?

On my lady's orders, Major.
Louka told me that—
- My goodness, Nicola!

Why should I have ordered you to bring
Captain Bluntschli's luggage out here?

What are you thinking of, Nicola?

I beg your pardon, captain, I am sure.

My fault, madam! I hope you'll overlook it!

You'd better slam that bag, too,
down on Miss Raina's ice pudding!

Begone, you butter-fingered donkey.
Yes, Major.

Scoundrel. He's got out of hand
while I was away. I'll teach him.
Sack next Saturday.

I'll clean out the whole establishment.
- Doesn't matter, I'll make another ice pudding.

There, there.
- Never mind.

I'll have no more nonsense
about you going away.

You know quite well you don't have
to go back to Switzerland yet,

and till you do go back you'll stay with us.

Oh, do, Captain Bluntschli.

Come, Catherine, it's of you he's afraid of.
Press him and he'll stay.

Of course I should be only too delighted
if Captain Bluntschli wishes to stay.

He knows my wishes.

I am at madam's orders.

Ah! That settles it!

Of course!

You see, you must stay!

Well, if I must,

I must!

You sure I can't help in any way, Bluntschli?

Quite sure, thank you, Major.
Saranoff and I will manage it.

Yes: we'll manage it.
He finds out what to do;

draws up the orders; and I sign 'em.
Division of labour.

Another one? Thank you.

This hand is more accustomed
to the sword than to the pen.

It's very good of you, Bluntschli, it is indeed,
to let yourself be put upon in this way.

Sure I can do nothing?

You can stop interrupting, Paul.
- Eh? Hm? Ah?

Quite right, my love, quite right.

You haven't been campaigning, my dear:

you don't know how pleasant
it is for us to sit here,
after a good lunch, with

nothing to do but enjoy ourselves.

One thing I want to make me
thoroughly comfortable.

What is that?

My old coat.

I don't feel at home in this one:
I feel as if I were on parade.

My dear Paul, how absurd you are about that old coat!

It must be in the blue closet
where you left it hanging up.

My dear, I've looked there.

Am I to believe my own eyes or not?

What are you shewing off that electric bell for?

My dear: if you think the obstinacy
of your sex can make a coat
out of Raina's dressing gown,

your waterproof, and my mackintosh, you're mistaken.

And that's exactly what the blue closet contains at present.

Nicola,

would you go to the blue closet
and fetch your master's old coat—
you know the braided one he wears in the house.

Yes, madam.

Catherine.
Yes, Paul?

I bet you any piece of jewellery you like
to order from Sofia against a week's
housekeeping money, that the coat isn't there.

Done.
- Oh!

Oh: here's an opportunity for some sport.

Who'll bet on it? Bluntschli:

I'll give you six to one.

It would be robbing you, Major.
Madam is sure to be right.

Well said, Switzer!

Major, I bet you my best charger against
an Arab mare for Raina that Nicola
finds the coat in the blue closet.

Your best char—
Don't be foolish, Paul.

An Arabian mare will cost you 50,000 levas.

Really, mother, if you are going
to take the jewellery, I don't see
why you should grudge me my Arab.

Where was it, Nicola?

Hanging in the blue closet, madam.

Well, I am d—
Paul!

I could have sworn it wasn't there.

Age is beginning to tell on me.

I'm getting hallucinations.

Here:

help me change.

Excuse me, Bluntschli.

Sergius, don't forget: I didn't take that bet of yours.

You'd better give that Arab steed to Raina,
since you've roused her expectations.

Eh, Raina?

Dreaming, as usual.

Assuredly she shall not be the loser.

So much the better for her.

I shan't come off so cheaply, I expect.

I feel at home at last.

That's the last order.

What! finished?

Finished.

Are you sure you've nothing for me to sign?

Not necessary.

His signature will do.

Ah, that's what I call a thundering
good day's work. Now, you sure
I can do nothing more?

You had better both see the fellows that are to take these.

Pack them off at once; and shew
them that I've marked on the orders
the time they should hand them in by.

Tell them that if they stop to drink or
tell stories— if they're five minutes late,
they'll have the skin taken off their backs.

I'll say so.

And if one of them is man enough
to spit in my face for insulting him,

I'll buy his discharge and give him a pension.

Just see that he talks to them properly, Major, will you?

Quite right, Bluntschli, quite right.

I'll see to it.

By the bye, Catherine, you ... you'd better
come, too. They'll be far more frightened
of you than of me.

I daresay I had better. You will only splutter at them.

What an army! They made cannons
out of cherry trees; and the officers
send for their wives to keep discipline!

You look ever so much nicer than when we last met.

What have you done to yourself?

Oh! Washed; brushed; good night's sleep and breakfast. That's all.

Did you get back safely that morning?

Quite, thanks.

Were they angry at you for running away from Sergius's charge?

No, they were glad; because they'd
all just run away themselves.

It must have made a lovely story—
all that about me and my room.

Oh, capital story. But ... I only told it
to one of them—a particular friend.

On whose discretion you could absolutely rely?
- Absolutely.

Hm! He told it all to my father and Sergius
the day you exchanged the prisoners.

No! you don't mean that, do you?
I do indeed.

But they don't know that it was
in this house you took refuge.

If Sergius knew, he would challenge you and kill you in a duel.

Bless me! then don't tell him.

Oh, please be serious, Captain Bluntschli.

Can you not realize what it is to me to deceive him?

I want to be quite perfect with Sergius—

no smallness, no meanness, no deceit.

My relation to him is
the one really beautiful
and noble part of my life.

I hope you can understand that.

You mean that you wouldn't like him
to find out that the story
about the ice pudding was a lie.

Ah, don't talk of it in that flippant way.

I lied: I know it.

But I did it to save your life.
He would have killed you.

That was the second time I ever uttered a falsehood.

Do you remember the first time?

I!

No. Was I present?
- Yes; when I told the officer who was
searching for you that you were not present.

True. I should have remembered it.

Ah, it is natural that you should forget it first.

It cost you nothing:

it cost me a lie!—

a lie!!

My dear young lady, don't let this worry you.

Remember: I'm a soldier.

Now what are the two things that
happen to a soldier so often that
he comes to think nothing of them?

One ... is hearing people tell lies

the other ... is getting his life saved
in all sorts of ways by all sorts of people.

And so he becomes a creature
incapable of faith and gratitude.

Do you like gratitude? I don't.

If pity is akin to love, then gratitude is akin to ... the other thing.

Gratitude! If you are incapable of gratitude
you are incapable of any noble sentiment.

Even animals are grateful.

Oh, I see now exactly what you think of me!

You were not surprised to hear me lie.
To you it was probably something
I did every day—every hour.

That is how men think of women.

There's reason in everything.

You said you'd only told two lies in your whole life.

Dear young lady: isn't that rather a short allowance?

I'm quite a straightforward man myself;
but it wouldn't last me a whole morning.

Do you know, sir, that you are insulting me?

I can't help it.

When you strike that noble attitude and
speak in that thrilling voice, I admire you;

but I find it impossible to believe a single word you say.

Captain Bluntschli!
- Yes?

Do you mean what you said just now?

Do you know what you said just now?

I do.

I!

I!!!

How did you find me out?

Instinct, dear young lady.
Instinct, and experience of the world.

Do you know, you are the first man I ever
met who did not take me seriously?

You mean, don't you, that I am the first man
who has ever taken you quite seriously?

Yes,

I suppose I do mean that.

How strange it is to be talked to in such a way!

You know, I've always gone on like that—

- You mean...
- I mean the noble attitude and the thrilling voice.

I did it as a tiny child to ... 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.

Yes: he's a little in that line himself, isn't he?

Oh! Do you think so?

Oh, you know him better than I do.

I wonder—I wonder is he?

If I thought that—!

Ah, well, what does it matter?

I suppose, now that you've found me out, you despise me.

No, no, my dear young lady, no, no, no, a thousand times no.

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 ... I'm your infatuated admirer.

Really?

Hand aufs Herz! Really and truly.

But what did you think of me
for giving you my portrait?

Your portrait! You never gave me your portrait.

You mean to say you never got it?

No. When did you send it to me?

I did not send it to you.
It was in the pocket of that coat.

Oh-o-oh! I never found it. It must be there still.

There still!—

for my father to find the first time
he puts his hand in his pocket!

Oh, how could you be so stupid?

It doesn't matter: I suppose it's only a photograph:
how can he tell who it was intended for?

Tell him he put it there himself.

Oh, yes, that is so clever—isn't it! What am I going to do?

Ah, I see. You wrote something on it.

That was rash!

Oh, to have done such a thing
for you, who care no more—
except to laugh at me!

Are you sure nobody has touched it?

Well, I can't be quite sure.

I couldn't carry it about with me all the time:
one can't take much luggage on active service.

So what did you do with it?

When I got through to Peerot I had
to put it in safe keeping somehow.

I thought of the railway cloak room;
but that's the surest place to get
looted in modern warfare.

So...

I pawned it.
- Pawned it!!!

I know it doesn't sound very 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.

You have a low, shopkeeping mind.
You think of things that would never
come into a gentleman's head.

That's the Swiss national character, dear lady.

Oh, I wish I had never met you.

For you. The messenger's waiting.

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.

Bad news!

Bad news?

My...

My father's dead.

Oh, how very sad!

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.

Here's a whacking letter from the family solicitor.

Great Heavens! Two hundred! Four hundred!

Four thousand!!

Nine thousand six hundred!!!

Oh, what am I to do with them all?

Nine thousand hotels?

Oh, no. Nonsense. If you only knew!

Oh, it's too ridiculous!

Will you excuse me: I ... I ... I must give
my fellow orders about leaving.

He has not much heart, that Swiss,

He has not a word of grief for his poor father.

Grief!—

a man who has been doing nothing
but killing people for years!
What does he care?

What does any soldier care?

Major Saranoff has been fighting, too;
and he has plenty of heart left.

I thought you wouldn't get much feeling out of your soldier.

I've been trying all the afternoon
to get a minute alone with you, my girl.

Why, what fashion is that of wearing your sleeve, child?

My own fashion.

Indeed! If the mistress catches you, she'll talk to you.

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

Come: don't be so contrary with me.
I've some good news for you.

See,

twenty levas! Sergius gave me that out of pure swagger.

Fool and his money ... soon parted. And there ...

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 isn't.

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 shall go to our savings;
and you shall have the ten to spend,
if you'll only talk to me so as to
remind me I'm a human being.

I get tired of being a servant occasionally.

Yes: sell your manhood for thirty levas,
and buy me for ten!

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.

Ah, wait till you see.

We shall have our evenings to ourselves;
and I shall be master in my own house,
I promise you.

You shall never be master in mine.

You have ... great ambition in you, Louka.

Remember: if any luck comes to you,
it was I that made a woman of you.

You!

Yes, me.

Who was it made you give up wearing
a couple of pounds of false hair on your
head and reddening your lips and cheeks like any other Bulgarian girl?

I did.

Who taught you to trim your nails,
keep your hands clean, be dainty
about yourself, like a fine Russian lady?

Me!

Do you hear that?

Me!

I've 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.

I believe you'd rather be my servant
than my husband.

You would make more out of me.

Oh, I know that soul of yours.

Never you mind my soul;
but just listen to my advice.

If you want to be a lady,
your present behaviour
to me won't 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 don't you try being high
and mighty with me either.
You're like all country girls:

you think it's genteel to treat a servant
the way I treat a stable-boy.

That's only your ignorance;
and don't you forget it.

And don't 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:

you've got to know your place;
that's 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.

Oh, I must behave in my own way.

You take all the courage out of me with your cold-blooded wisdom.

Put those logs on the fire:
that's the sort of thing you understand.

Yes, we probably want some food, right, so ...

I am not in the way of your work, I hope.

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.

That's the worst of her education, sir:
it gives her habits above her station.

Make that table tidy, Louka, for the Major.

Let me see: is there a mark there?
Ffff!

Does it hurt?

Yes.

Shall I cure it?
No. You cannot cure it now.

Sure?

Don't trifle with me, please.
An officer should not trifle with a servant.

That was no trifle, Louka.

Are you sorry?

I am never sorry.

I wish I could believe a man could be
so unlike a woman as that.

I wonder ...

are you really a brave man?

Yes: I am a brave man.

My heart jumped like a woman's at the first shot;

but I found in the charge that I was brave, yes.

That at least is real about me.

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?

Not a bit. They all slashed and yelled and cursed like heroes.

Psha! the courage to rage and kill is cheap.

My English bull terrier has as much of that
sort of courage as the whole of the Bulgarian nation,
and the whole of the Russian nation at its back.

But he still lets my groom thrash him, all the same.
Don't you?

Ah! That's 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 ... I am an officer.

Oh, 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.

How easy it is to talk!

Men never seem to me to grow up:
they all have schoolboy's ideas.

You don't know what true courage is.

Indeed!

I am willing to be instructed.

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 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.

What would you do, most noble Empress?

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.

You lie: it is not so, by all the stars!
If I loved you, and I were the Czar himself,

I would place 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.

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.

The Swiss!

A man worth ten of you.

Then you can come to me;
and I will refuse you.
You are not good enough for me.

I will kill the Swiss;

and afterwards I will do as I please with you.

The Swiss will kill you, perhaps.

He has beaten you in love.
He may beat you in war.

Do you think I believe that she, whose worst
thoughts are higher than your best ones,
is capable of trifling with another man behind my back?

Do you think she would believe the Swiss
if he told her now that I am in your arms?

Damnation! Oh, damnation! Mockery, oh
mockery everywhere: everything
I think is mocked by everything I do.

Coward, liar, fool!

Shall I kill myself like a man, or
live and pretend to laugh at myself?

Louka!

Remember: you belong to me.

What does that mean—an insult?

It means that you love me,

and that I have had you here in my arms,
and perhaps will have you there again.
Whether that is an insult

I neither know nor care: take it as you please. But ...

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.

We shall see whether you dare keep your word.

But take care. I will not wait long.

Yes, we shall see. And you ...

will await my pleasure.

Afternoon, Louka.

Captain Bluntschli.

That's a remarkable looking young woman.

Captain Bluntschli.
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?

Oh, thank you:

that's a cavalry man's proposal.
I'm in the artillery;
and I have the choice of weapons.

If I come, I shall bring a machine gun.

And there shall be no mistake
about the cartridges this time.

Take care, sir.

It is not our custom in Bulgaria to allow
invitations of that kind to be trifled with.

Pooh! don't talk to me about Bulgaria.
You don't know what fighting is.

But have it your own way.
Bring your sabre along.
I'll meet you.

Well said, Switzer.

Shall I lend you my best horse?
No: damn your horse!—

thank you all the same, my dear fellow.

I shall fight you on foot.

Horseback's too dangerous:
I don't want to kill you if I can help it.

I've heard what Captain Bluntschli has said, Sergius.

You are going to fight. Why?

What about?

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.

I never said I wanted to see you again.

Ha! That is a confession.
- What do you mean?

You love that man?

Sergius!

You allow him to make love to you
behind my back, just as you treat me
as your affianced husband behind his.

Captain Bluntschli:

you knew our relations;
and you have deceived me.

It is for that that I call you to account,
not for having received favours
that I never enjoyed.

Stuff! Nonsense! I've received no favours.

Why, the young lady doesn't even
know whether I'm married or not.

Oh! Are you?

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.

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.

Bluntschli!

Raina: is this true?

Oh, how dare you, how dare you?

Apologize, man, apologize!
- I never apologize.

This is the doing of that friend of yours,
Captain Bluntschli. It is he who has been
spreading this horrible story about me.

No: he's dead—burnt alive.

Burnt alive!

Shot in the hip in a wood yard and couldn't
crawl out. Your fellows' shells set the timber
on fire and burnt him, with half a dozen
other poor devils in the same predicament.

How horrible!

And how ridiculous!
Oh, war! war! the dream of patriots and heroes!

A fraud, Bluntschli, a hollow sham, like love.

Like love! You dare say that before me.

Come, Saranoff: that matter is explained.

A hollow sham, I say.

Would you have come back here if
nothing had gone between you,
except at the muzzle of your pistol?

Raina is mistaken about
your friend who was burnt.
He was not my informant.

Who then?

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!

Do you know I looked out of the window
this morning as I went upstairs,
to have another sight of my hero;

and I saw something I did not understand then.
You were making love to her.

You saw that?

Only too well.

Raina: our romance is shattered.

Life's a farce.

You see: he's found himself out now.

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?
- 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 I am very glad to get out
of it when I haven't to.

You're only an amateur:
you think fighting's an amusement.

Well, you shall ... hear my reason
all the same, my professional.

The real reason is that it takes two men—
real men—men of heart and blood and honor—
to make a genuine combat.

I could no more fight with you
than make love to an ugly woman.
You've got no magnetism: you're not a man, you're a machine.

Quite true, quite true.

I always was that sort of fellow.

I'm really 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?

You are very solicitous about my happiness and his.

Have you forgotten his new love—Louka?

It is not you he must fight now, but his rival, Nicola.

Rival!!

Yes. Do you not know that they are engaged?

Nicola!

Are fresh abysses opening!

Nicola!!

Yes, sir?

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.

Viper! Viper! Viper!

Look here, Saranoff;
you're getting the worst of this.

Do you realize what this man
has done, Captain Bluntschli?
He has set that girl as a spy on us;
and her reward is that he makes love to her.

False! Monstrous!

Monstrous!

Do you deny that she told you about
Captain Bluntschli being in my room?
- No; but—

- Do you deny that you were making love to her when she told you?
- No; but I tell you—

It is unnecessary to tell us anything more.

That is quite enough for us.

I told you you were getting the worst of it, Saranoff.

Tiger cat!

You hear this man calling me names, Captain Bluntschli?

What else can he do, dear lady?
He must defend himself somehow.

Come, don't quarrel. What good does it do?

Engaged to Nicola! Ha!

Well, Bluntschli, you are right to treat
this huge imposture of a world coolly.

I daresay you think us a couple
of grown up babies, don't you?

He does, he does.

Swiss civilization nursetending
Bulgarian barbarism, eh, Bluntschli?

Not at all, I assure you.

I'm only just very glad to get you two quieted.

There now, let's be friendly and talk
this over in a pleasant sort of way.
Where is this other young lady?

Listening at the door, probably.

I will prove that that, at least,

is a calumny.

Judge her, Bluntschli—
you, the cool, impartial man:
judge the eavesdropper.

No, 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.

My love was at stake.

I am not ashamed.
- Your love?

Your curiosity, you mean.

My love, stronger than anything you can feel,
even for your chocolate cream soldier!

What does that mean?

It means—

Oh, I remember, the ice pudding.
A paltry taunt, girl.

Excuse my shirtsleeves, gentlemen.

Raina:
somebody has been wearing that coat of mine:

somebody with differently shaped back, hmm.

It's all burst open at the sleeves.
Your mother is mending it.

I wish she'd make haste. I shall catch cold.

Is anything the matter?

No.

No!

Nothing,

nothing.

That's all right.

Is anything the matter, Louka?

No, sir.

That's all right.

Go to your mistress and ask for my coat,
like a good girl, will you?

Here it is, papa.

Give it to me, Nicola; and do you put
some more wood on the fire.

Going to be very good to
poor old papa just for one day
after his return from the wars, eh?

Ah, how can you say that to me, papa?
- Just a joke, my little one.

Give me a kiss. Now give me my coat.
- No, no, no, I am going to put it on for you.

Turn your back.

Comfortable, dear!
- Quite, my little love, quite.

I've found something funny.

What's the meaning of th—?

Hello ... I could've sworn—

I wonder what ...
Ah, your mother's taken it.

Taken what?

Your photograph, with the inscription:
"Raina, to her Chocolate Cream Soldier—a souvenir."

Oh, there's more to this than meets the eye;
and I'm going to find it out.

Nicola!
- Sir!

Did you spoil any pastry of Miss Raina's this morning?

You heard Miss Raina say that I did, sir.

I know that, you idiot. Was it true?

I am sure Miss Raina is incapable of
saying anything that is not true, sir.

Are you? Well, I'm not.

Come: do you think I don't see it all?

Sergius: you're the chocolate cream soldier, aren't you?

I! a chocolate cream soldier! Certainly not.

Not!

Do you mean Raina sends things like that to other men?

The world is not such an innocent place
as we used to think it, Petkoff.

It's all right, Major.
I'm the chocolate cream soldier.

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.

Sergius: do you remember how
those two women went on this
morning when we mentioned it?

You're a nice young woman, aren't you?

Major Saranoff has changed his mind.

And I did not know that Captain
Bluntschli was married when
I wrote that on the photograph.

I'm not married.

You said you were.
I did not. I positively did not.

I never was married in my life.

Raina: will you kindly inform me,
if I am not asking too much, which
of these gentlemen you are engaged to?

To neither of them.

This young lady is the object of
Major Saranoff's affections at present.

Louka! Sergius, are you mad?
This girl's engaged to Nicola.

I beg your pardon, sir.
There is a mistake.
Louka is not engaged to me.

Not engaged to you, you scoundrel!
Why, you had twenty-five levas
from me on the day of your betrothal;

and this girl had that gilt bracelet from Miss Raina.

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.

Well, I am—!

This is either the finest heroism
or the most crawling baseness.
Which is it, 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.

I have been insulted by everyone here.

You set them the example. You owe me an apology.

I...
- It's no use. He never apologizes.

Not to you, his equal and his enemy.

To me, his poor servant,
he will not refuse to apologize.

You're right.

Forgive me!

I forgive you.

That touch makes me your affianced wife.

I forgot that!

You can withdraw if you like.
I ...

Withdraw! Never!

You belong to me!

What does this mean?

It would appear, my dear, that Sergius
is going to marry Louka instead of Raina.

Don't blame me: I've nothing to do with it.

Marry Louka!

Sergius: you are bound by your word to us!

Nothing binds me.

Saranoff: your hand. My congratulations.

These heroics of yours have their practical side after all.

Gracious young lady:

the best wishes of a good Republican!

Louka: you've been telling stories.

I have done Raina no harm.
- Raina!

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.

I thought you were fonder of him than of Sergius.

You know best whether I was right.

What nonsense! I assure you,
my dear Major, my dear madam,
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 gracious 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—

man who has spoiled all his chances in life
through an incurably romantic disposition.

Excuse me, Bluntschli: what did you say
had spoiled your chances in life?

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 any 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—

My coat!

Yes: that's the coat I mean.

Would have sent the coat 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.

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!

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"?

That's what I was looking for.
How the deuce did it get there?

I have put everything right,
I hope, gracious young lady!

I quite agree with your
account of yourself.
You are a romantic idiot.

Next time I hope you will know the difference
between a schoolgirl of seventeen
and a woman of twenty-three.

Twenty-three!

Bluntschli: my one last belief is gone.
Your sagacity is a fraud, like everything else.
You've less sense even than I.

Twenty-three!

Twenty-three!

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.

You dare!

If you were twenty-three when you said
those things to me this afternoon,
I shall take them seriously.

I doubt, sir, whether you quite
realize 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 positions almost historical:
we can go back for twenty years.

Never mind all that, Catherine.
We'd be only too happy, if it were
only a question of your position;

but hang it all, you know,
Raina is accustomed to
a very comfortable establishment.

Sergius has twenty horses.

But who wants twenty horses?
We're not going to keep a circus.

My daughter, sir, is accustomed to a first-rate stable.

Hush, mother, you're making me ridiculous.

Oh, well, if it comes to a question
of an establishment, here goes!

How many horses did you say?

Twenty, noble Switzer!
- I have two hundred horses.

How many carriages?
- Three.

I have seventy.

Twenty-four of them will take twelve
inside, besides two on the box,
not counting the driver and conductor.

How many tablecloths have you?

How the deuce should I know?
- Have you four thousand?
- No.

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 palatial establishments,
besides two livery stables,
tea gardens 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
who can offer as much.

Are you the Emperor of Switzerland?

My rank is the highest known in Switzerland:

I'm a free citizen.

In that case Captain Bluntschli,
since you are my daughter's choice,

- He's not.
- I shall not stand in the way of her happiness.

That is Major Petkoff's feeling also.

Oh, I should say so.
Two hundred horses! Whew!

What says the lady?

The lady says he can keep his
tablecloths and his omnibuses.
I am not here to be sold to the highest bidder.

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—

I did not give them to the Emperor of Switzerland!

That's just what I say.

Now ... tell us whom you did give them to.

To my chocolate cream soldier!

That'll do. Thank you.

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.

What a man!

Is he a man?