Pygmalion and Other Plays. GEORGE BERNARD SHAW

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      PETKOFF. [Sitting down on the ottoman in his old place.] That’s all right. [He notices Louka.] Anything the matter, Louka?

      LOUKA. No, sir.

      PETKOFF. [Genially.] That’s all right. [He sneezes.] Go and ask your mistress for my coat, like a good girl, will you? [She turns to obey; but Nicola enters with the coat; and she makes a pretence of having business in the room by taking the little table with the hookah away to the wall near the windows.]

      RAINA. [Rising quickly, as she sees the coat on Nicola’s arm.] Here it is, papa. Give it to me, Nicola; and do you put some more wood on the fire. [She takes the coat, and brings it to the Major, who stands up to put it on. Nicola attends to the fire.]

      PETKOFF. [To Raina, teasing her affectionately.] Aha! Going to be very good to poor old papa just for one day after his return from the wars, eh?

      RAINA. [With solemn reproach.] Ah, how can you say that to me, father?

      PETKOFF. Well, well, only a joke, little one. Come, give me a kiss. [She kisses him.] Now give me the coat.

      RAINA. Now, I am going to put it on for you. Turn your back. [He turns his back and feels behind him with his arms for the sleeves. She dexterously takes the photograph from the pocket and throws it on the table before Bluntschli, who covers it with a sheet of paper under the very nose of Sergius, who looks on amazed, with his suspicions roused in the highest degree. She then helps Petkoff on with his coat.] There, dear! Now are you comfortable?

      PETKOFF. Quite, little love. Thanks. [He sits down; and Raina returns to her seat near the stove.] Oh, by the bye, I’ve found something funny. What’s the meaning of this? [He put his hand into the picked pocket.] Eh? Hallo! [He tries the other pocket.] Well, I could have sworn—[Much puzzled, he tries the breast pocket.] I wonder—[Tries the original pocket.] Where can it—[A light flashes on him; he rises, exclaiming.] Your mother’s taken it.

      RAINA. [Very red.] Taken what?

      PETKOFF. Your photograph, with the inscription: “Raina, to her Chocolate Cream Soldier—a souvenir.” Now you know there’s something more in this than meets the eye; and I’m going to find it out. [Shouting.] Nicola!

      NICOLA. [Dropping a log, and turning.] Sir!

      PETKOFF. Did you spoil any pastry of Miss Raina’s this morning?

      NICOLA. You heard Miss Raina say that I did, sir.

      PETKOFF. I know that, you idiot. Was it true?

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

      PETKOFF. Are you? Then I’m not. [Turning to the others.] Come: do you think I don’t see it all? [Goes to Sergius, and slaps him on the shoulder.] Sergius: you’re the chocolate cream soldier, aren’t you?

      SERGIUS. [Starting up.] I! a chocolate cream soldier! Certainly not.

      PETKOFF. Not! [He looks at them. They are all very serious and very conscious.] Do you mean to tell me that Raina sends photographic souvenirs to other men?

      SERGIUS. [Enigmatically.] The world is not such an innocent place as we used to think, Petkoff.

      BLUNTSCHLI. [Rising.] It’s all right, Major. I’m the chocolate cream soldier. [Petkoff and Sergius are equally astonished.] 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 Pirot. I was the fugitive.

      PETKOFF. You! [He gasps.] Sergius: do you remember how those two women went on this morning when we mentioned it? [Sergius smiles cynically. Petkoff confronts Raina severely.] You’re a nice young woman, aren’t you?

      RAINA. [Bitterly.] Major Saranoff has changed his mind. And when I wrote that on the photograph, I did not know that Captain Bluntschli was married.

      BLUNTSCHLI. [Much startled protesting vehemently.] I’m not married.

      RAINA. [With deep reproach.] You said you were.

      BLUNTSCHLI. I did not. I positively did not. I never was married in my life.

      PETKOFF. [Exasperated.] Raina: will you kindly inform me, if I am not asking too much, which gentleman you are engaged to?

      RAINA. To neither of them. This young lady. [Introducing Louka, who faces them all proudly.] is the object of Major Saranoff’s affections at present.

      PETKOFF. Louka! Are you mad, Sergius? Why, this girl’s engaged to Nicola.

      NICOLA. [Coming forward.] I beg your pardon, sir. There is a mistake. Louka is not engaged to me.

      PETKOFF. Not engaged to you, you scoundrel! Why, you had twenty-five levas from me on the day of your betrothal; and she had that gilt bracelet from Miss Raina.

      NICOLA. [With cool unction.] 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. [He goes out with impressive discretion, leaving them all staring after him.]

      PETKOFF. [Breaking the silence.] Well, I am—hm!

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

      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.

      LOUKA. [Suddenly breaking out at Sergius.] I have been insulted by everyone here. You set them the example. You owe me an apology. [Sergius immediately, like a repeating clock of which the spring has been touched, begins to fold his arms.]

      BLUNTSCHLI. [Before he can speak.] It’s no use. He never apologizes.

      LOUKA. Not to you, his equal and his enemy. To me, his poor servant, he will not refuse to apologize.

      SERGIUS. [Approvingly.] You are right. [He bends his knee in his grandest manner.] Forgive me!

      LOUKA. I forgive you. [She timidly gives him her hand, which he kisses.] That touch makes me your affianced wife.

      SERGIUS. [Springing up.] Ah, I forgot that!

      LOUKA. [Coldly.] You can withdraw if you like.

      SERGIUS. Withdraw! Never! You belong to me! [He puts his arm about her and draws her to him.]

      [Catherine comes in and finds Louka in Sergius’s arms, and all the rest gazing at them in bewildered astonishment.]

      CATHERINE. What does this mean? [Sergius releases Louka.]

      PETKOFF. Well, my dear, it appears that Sergius is going to marry Louka instead of Raina. [She is about to break out indignantly at him: he stops her by exclaiming testily.] Don’t blame me: I’ve nothing to do with it. [He retreats to the stove.]

      CATHERINE. Marry Louka! Sergius: you are bound by your word to us!

      SERGIUS. СКАЧАТЬ