Arms and the Man by George Bernard Shaw (online e reader .TXT) 📕

the soul of a servant, Nicola. Nicola Complacently. Yes: that’s the secret of success in service. A loud knocking with a whip handle on a wooden door, outside on the left, is heard. Male voice outside Hallo! Hallo there! Nicola! Louka Master! back from the war! Nicola Quickly. My word for it, Louka, the war’s over. Off with you and get some fresh coffee. He runs out into the stable yard. Louka As she puts the coffee pot and the cups upon the tray, and carries it into the house. You’ll never put the soul of a servant into me. Major Petkoff comes from the stable yard, followed by Nicola. He is a cheerful, excitable, insignificant, unpolished man of about 50, naturally unambitious except as to his income and his importance in local society, but just now greatly pleased with the military rank which the war has thrust on him as a man of consequence in his town. The fever of plucky patriotism which the Serbian attack roused in all the Bulgarians has pulled him through the war; but he is obviously glad to be home again. Petkoff Pointing to the table with his whip. Breakfast out here, eh? Nicola Yes, sir. The mistress and Miss Raina have just gone in. Petkoff Fitting down and taking a roll. Go in and say I’ve come; and get me some fresh coffee. Nicola It’s coming, sir. He goes to the house door. Louka, with fresh coffee, a clean cup, and a brandy bottle on her tray meets him. Have you told the mistress? Louka Yes: she’s coming. Nicola goes into the house. Louka brings the coffee to the table. Petkoff Well, the Serbians haven’t run away with you, have they? Louka No, sir. Petkoff That’s right. Have you brought me some cognac? Louka Putting the bottle on the table. Here, sir. Petkoff That’s right. He pours some into his coffee. Catherine who has at this early hour made only a very perfunctory toilet, and wears a Bulgarian apron over a once brilliant, but now half worn out red dressing gown, and a colored handkerchief tied over her thick black hair, with Turkish slippers on her bare feet, comes from the house, looking astonishingly handsome and stately under all the circumstances. Louka goes into the house. Catherine My dear Paul, what a surprise for us. She stoops over the back of his chair to kiss him. Have they brought you fresh coffee? Petkoff Yes, 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. Catherine Springing erect, with flashing eyes. The war over! Paul: have you let the Austrians force you to make peace? Petkoff Submissively. My dear: they didn’t consult me. What could I do? She sits down and turns away from him. But of course we saw to it that the treaty was an honorable one. It declares peace⁠— Catherine Outraged. Peace! Petkoff Appeasing her.⁠—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? Catherine You could have annexed Serbia and made Prince Alexander Emperor of the Balkans. That’s what I would have done. Petkoff I don’t doubt it in the least, my dear. But I should have had to subdue the whole Austrian Empire first; and that would have kept me too long away from you. I missed you greatly. Catherine Relenting. Ah! Stretches her hand affectionately across the table to squeeze his. Petkoff And how have you been, my dear? Catherine Oh, my usual sore throats, that’s all. Petkoff With conviction. That comes from washing your neck every day. I’ve often told you so. Catherine Nonsense, Paul! Petkoff Over his coffee and cigarette. I don’t believe in going too far with these modern customs. All this washing can’t be good for the health: it’s not natural. There was an Englishman at Phillipopolis 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 makes them so dirty that they have to be perpetually washing themselves. Look at my father: he never had a bath in his life; and he lived to be ninety-eight, the healthiest man in Bulgaria. I don’t mind a good wash once a week to keep up my position; but once a day is carrying the thing to a ridiculous extreme. Catherine You are a barbarian at heart still, Paul. I hope you behaved yourself before all those Russian officers. Petkoff I did my best. I took care to let them know that we had a library. Catherine Ah; but you didn’t tell them that we have an electric bell in it? I have had one put up. Petkoff What’s an electric bell? Catherine You touch a button; something tinkles in the kitchen; and then Nicola comes up. Petkoff Why not shout for him? Catherine Civilized people never shout for their servants. I’ve learnt that while you were away. Petkoff Well, I’ll tell you something I’ve learnt, too. Civilized people don’t hang out their washing to dry where visitors can see it; so you’d better have all that indicating the clothes on the bushes put somewhere else. Catherine Oh, that’s absurd, Paul: I don’t believe really refined people notice such things. Someone is heard knocking at the stable gates. Petkoff There’s Sergius. Shouting. Hallo, Nicola! Catherine Oh, don’t shout, Paul: it really isn’t nice. Petkoff Bosh! He shouts louder than before. Nicola! Nicola Appearing at the house door. Yes, sir. Petkoff If that is Major Saranoff, bring him round this way. He pronounces the name with the stress on the second syllable⁠—Sarah-noff. Nicola Yes, sir. He goes into the stable yard. Petkoff You must talk to him, my dear, until Raina takes him off our hands. He bores my life out about our not promoting him⁠—over my head, mind you. Catherine He certainly ought to be promoted when he marries Raina. Besides, the