Pygmalion and Other Plays. GEORGE BERNARD SHAW
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[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.] Louka.
LOUKA. Yes?
SERGIUS. Who is my rival?
LOUKA. You shall never get that out of me, for love or money.
SERGIUS. Why?
LOUKA. Never mind why. Besides, you would tell that I told you; and I should lose my place.
SERGIUS. [Holding out his right hand in affirmation.] No; on the honor of a—[He checks himself, and his hand drops nerveless as he concludes, sardonically.]—of a man capable of behaving as I have been behaving for the last five minutes. Who is he?
LOUKA. I don’t know. I never saw him. I only heard his voice through the door of her room.
SERGIUS. Damnation! How dare you?
LOUKA. [Retreating.] Oh, I mean no harm: you’ve no right to take up my words like that. The mistress knows all about it. And I tell you that if that gentleman ever comes here again, Miss Raina will marry him, whether he likes it or not. I know the difference between the sort of manner you and she put on before one another and the real manner. [Sergius shivers as if she had stabbed him. Then, setting his face like iron, he strides grimly to her, and grips her above the elbows with both bands.]
SERGIUS. Now listen you to me!
LOUKA. [Wincing.] Not so tight: you’re hurting me!
SERGIUS. That doesn’t matter. You have stained my honor by making me a party to your eavesdropping. And you have betrayed your mistress—
LOUKA. [Writhing.] Please—
SERGIUS. That shews that you are an abominable little clod of common clay, with the soul of a servant. [He lets her go as if she were an unclean thing, and turns away, dusting his hands of her, to the bench by the wall, where he sits down with averted head, meditating gloomily.]
LOUKA. [Whimpering angrily with her hands up her sleeves, feeling her bruised arms.] You know how to hurt with your tongue as well as with your hands. But I don’t care, now I’ve found out that whatever clay I’m made of, you’re made of the same. As for her, she’s a liar; and her fine airs are a cheat; and I’m worth six of her. [She shakes the pain off hardily; tosses her head; and sets to work to put the things on the tray. He looks doubtfully at her once or twice. She finishes packing the tray, and laps the cloth over the edges, so as to carry all out together. As she stoops to lift it, he rises.]
SERGIUS. Louka! [She stops and looks defiantly at him with the tray in her hands.] A gentleman has no right to hurt a woman under any circumstances. [With profound humility, uncovering his bead.] I beg your pardon.
LOUKA. That sort of apology may satisfy a lady. Of what use is it to a servant?
SERGIUS. [Thus rudely crossed in his chivalry, throws it off with a bitter laugh and says slightingly.] Oh, you wish to be paid for the hurt? [He puts on his shako, and takes some money from his pocket.]
LOUKA. [Her eyes filling with tears in spite of herself.] No, I want my hurt made well.
SERGIUS. [Sobered by her tone.] How? [She rolls up her left sleeve; clasps her arm with the thumb and fingers of her right hand; and looks down at the bruise. Then she raises her head and looks straight at him. Finally, with a superb gesture she presents her arm to be kissed. Amazed, he looks at her; at the arm; at her again; hesitates; and then, with shuddering intensity, exclaims.]
SERGIUS. Never! [And gets away as far as possible from her.]
[Her arm drops. Without a word, and with unaffected dignity, she takes her tray, and is approaching the house when Raina returns wearing a hat and jacket in the height of the Vienna fashion of the previous year, 1885. Louka makes way proudly for her, and then goes into the house.]
RAINA. I’m ready! What’s the matter? [Gaily.] Have you been flirting with Louka?
SERGIUS. [Hastily.] No, no. How can you think such a thing?
RAINA. [Ashamed of herself.] Forgive me, dear: it was only a jest. I am so happy to-day. [He goes quickly to her, and kisses her hand remorsefully. Catherine comes out and calls to them from the top of the steps.]
CATHERINE. [Coming down to them.] I am sorry to disturb you, children; but Paul is distracted over those three regiments. He does not know how to get them to Phillipopolis; and he objects to every suggestion of mine. You must go and help him, Sergius. He is in the library.
RAINA. [Disappointed.] But we are just going out for a walk.
SERGIUS. I shall not be long. Wait for me just five minutes. [He runs up the steps to the door.]
RAINA. [Following him to the foot of the steps and looking up at him with timid coquetry.] I shall go round and wait in full view of the library windows. Be sure you draw father’s attention to me. If you are a moment longer than five minutes, I shall go in and fetch you, regiments or no regiments.
SERGIUS. [Laughing.] Very well. [He goes in. Raina watches him until he is out of her right. Then, with a perceptible relaxation of manner, she begins to pace up and down about the garden in a brown study.]
CATHERINE. Imagine their meeting that Swiss and hearing the whole story! The very first thing your father asked for was the old coat we sent him off in. A nice mess you have got us into!
RAINA. [Gazing thoughtfully at the gravel as she walks.] The little beast!
CATHERINE. Little beast! What little beast?
RAINA. To go and tell! Oh, if I had him here, I’d stuff him with chocolate creams till he couldn’t ever speak again!
CATHERINE. Don’t talk nonsense. Tell me the truth, Raina. How long was he in your room before you came to me?
RAINA. [Whisking round and recommencing her march in the opposite direction.] Oh, I forget.
CATHERINE. You cannot forget! Did he really climb up after the soldiers were gone, or was he there when that officer searched the room?
RAINA. No. Yes, I think he must have been there then.
CATHERINE. You think! Oh, Raina, Raina! Will anything ever make you straightforward? If Sergius finds out, it is all over between you.
RAINA. [With cool impertinence.] Oh, I know Sergius is your pet. I sometimes wish you could marry him instead of me. You would just suit him. You would pet him, and spoil him, and mother him to perfection.
CATHERINE. [Opening her eyes very widely indeed.] Well, upon my word!
RAINA. [Capriciously—half to herself.] I always feel a longing to do or say something dreadful to him—to shock his propriety—to scandalize the five senses out of him! [To Catherine perversely.] I don’t care whether he finds out about the chocolate