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, good-humoredly.] 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, rinks 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.
