Pygmalion and Other Plays. GEORGE BERNARD SHAW

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СКАЧАТЬ remorse, by which Childe Harold fascinated the grandmothers of his English contemporaries. Altogether it is clear that here or nowhere is Raina’s ideal hero. Catherine is hardly less enthusiastic, and much less reserved in shewing her enthusiasm. As he enters from the stable gate, she rises effusively to greet him. Petkoff is distinctly less disposed to make a fuss about him.]

      PETKOFF. Here already, Sergius. Glad to see you!

      CATHERINE. My dear Sergius! [She holds out both her hands.]

      SERGIUS. [Kissing them with scrupulous gallantry.] My dear mother, if I may call you so.

      PETKOFF. [Drily.] Mother-in-law, Sergius; mother-in-law! Sit down, and have some coffee.

      SERGIUS. Thank you, none for me. [He gets away from the table with a certain distaste for Petkoff’s enjoyment of it, and posts himself with conscious grace against the rail of the steps leading to the house.]

      CATHERINE. You look superb—splendid. The campaign has improved you. Everybody here is mad about you. We were all wild with enthusiasm about that magnificent cavalry charge.

      SERGIUS. [With grave irony.] Madam: it was the cradle and the grave of my military reputation.

      CATHERINE. How so?

      SERGIUS. I won the battle the wrong way when our worthy Russian generals were losing it the right way. That upset their plans, and wounded their self-esteem. Two of their colonels got their regiments driven back on the correct principles of scientific warfare. Two major-generals got killed strictly according to military etiquette. Those two colonels are now major-generals; and I am still a simple major.

      CATHERINE. You shall not remain so, Sergius. The women are on your side; and they will see that justice is done you.

      SERGIUS. It is too late. I have only waited for the peace to send in my resignation.

      PETKOFF. [Dropping his cup in his amazement.] Your resignation!

      CATHERINE. Oh, you must withdraw it!

      SERGIUS. [With resolute, measured emphasis, folding his arms.] I never withdraw!

      PETKOFF. [Vexed.] Now who could have supposed you were going to do such a thing?

      SERGIUS. [With fire.] Everyone that knew me. But enough of myself and my affairs. How is Raina; and where is Raina?

      RAINA. [Suddenly coming round the corner of the house and standing at the top of the steps in the path.] Raina is here. [She makes a charming picture as they all turn to look at her. She wears an underdress of pale green silk, draped with an overdress of thin ecru canvas embroidered with gold. On her head she wears a pretty Phrygian cap of gold tinsel. Sergius, with an exclamation of pleasure, goes impulsively to meet her. She stretches out her hand: he drops chivalrously on one knee and kisses it.]

      PETKOFF. [Aside to Catherine, beaming with parental pride.] Pretty, isn’t it? She always appears at the right moment.

      CATHERINE. [Impatiently.] Yes: she listens for it. It is an abominable habit. [Sergius leads Raina forward with splendid gallantry, as if she were a queen. When they come to the table, she turns to him with a bend of the head; he bows; and thus they separate, he coming to his place, and she going behind her father’s chair.]

      RAINA. [Stooping and kissing her father.] Dear father! Welcome home!

      PETKOFF. [Patting her cheek.] My little pet girl. [He kisses her; she goes to the chair left by Nicola for Sergius, and sits down.]

      CATHERINE. And so you’re no longer a soldier, Sergius.

      SERGIUS. 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. Eh, Major!

      PETKOFF. They wouldn’t let us make a fair stand-up fight of it. However, I suppose soldiering has to be a trade like any other trade.

      SERGIUS. Precisely. But I have no ambition to succeed as a tradesman; so I have taken the advice of that bagman of a captain that settled the exchange of prisoners with us at Pirot, and given it up.

      PETKOFF. What, that Swiss fellow? Sergius: I’ve often thought of that exchange since. He over-reached us about those horses.

      SERGIUS. Of course he over-reached us. His father was a hotel and livery stable keeper; and he owed his first step to his knowledge of horse-dealing. [With mock enthusiasm.] 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!

      CATHERINE. A Swiss? What was he doing in the Servian army?

      PETKOFF. A volunteer of course—keen on picking up his profession. [Chuckling.] We shouldn’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 Servians. Egad, there’d have been no war without them.

      RAINA. Are there many Swiss officers in the Servian Army?

      PETKOFF. 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 cheated us—humbugged us into giving him fifty able bodied men for two hundred confounded worn out chargers. They weren’t even eatable!

      SERGIUS. 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 СКАЧАТЬ