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 Sophia 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 Raina 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. [Looking straight into her eyes.] No.
LOUKA. Then stand back where we can’t be seen. Have you no common sense?
SERGIUS. Ah, that’s reasonable. [He takes her into the stableyard gateway, where they are hidden from the house.]
LOUKA. [Complaining.] I may have been seen from the windows: Miss Raina is sure to be spying about after you.
SERGIUS. [Stung—letting her go.] Take care, Louka. I may be worthless enough to betray the higher love; but do not you insult it.
LOUKA. [Demurely.] Not for the world, sir, I’m sure. May I go on with my work please, now?
SERGIUS. [Again putting his arm round her.] You are a provoking little witch, Louka. If you were in love with me, would you spy out of windows on me?
LOUKA. Well, you see, sir, since you say you are half a dozen different gentlemen all at once, I should have a great deal to look after.
SERGIUS. [Charmed.] Witty as well as pretty. [He tries to kiss her.]
LOUKA. [Avoiding him.] No, I don’t want your kisses. Gentlefolk are all alike—you making love to me behind Miss Raina’s back, and she doing the same behind yours.
SERGIUS. [Recoiling a step.] Louka!
LOUKA. It shews how little you really care!
SERGIUS. [Dropping his familiarity and speaking with freezing politeness.] 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.
LOUKA. It’s so hard to know what a gentleman considers right. I thought from your trying to kiss me that you had given up being so particular.
SERGIUS. [Turning from her and striking his forehead as be comes back into the garden from the gateway.] Devil! devil!
LOUKA. Ha! ha! I expect one of the six of you is very like me, sir, though I am only Miss Raina’s maid. [She goes back to her work at the table, taking no further notice of him.]
SERGIUS. [Speaking to himself.] Which 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. [He pauses and looks furtively at Louka, as he adds with deep bitterness.] And one, at least, is a coward—jealous, like all cowards. [He goes to the table.]
