Pygmalion and Other Plays. GEORGE BERNARD SHAW

fusillade in the street. The chill of imminent death hushes the man’s voice as he adds.] Do you hear? If you are going to bring those scoundrels in on me you shall receive them as you are. [Raina meets his eye with unflinching scorn. Suddenly he starts, listening. There is a step outside. Someone tries the door, and then knocks hurriedly and urgently at it. Raina looks at the man, breathless. He throws up his head with the gesture of a man who sees that it is all over with him, and, dropping the manner which he has been assuming to intimidate her, flings the cloak to her, exclaiming, sincerely and kindly.] No use: I’m done for. Quick! wrap yourself up: they’re coming!

      RAINA. [Catching the cloak eagerly.] Oh, thank you. [She wraps herself up with great relief. He draws his sabre and turns to the door, waiting.]

      LOUKA. [Outside, knocking.] My lady, my lady! Get up, quick, and open the door.

      RAINA. [Anxiously.] What will you do?

      MAN. [Grimly.] Never mind. Keep out of the way. It will not last long.

      RAINA. [Impulsively.] I’ll help you. Hide yourself, oh, hide yourself, quick, behind the curtain. [She seizes him by a torn strip of his sleeve, and pulls him towards the window.]

      MAN. [Yielding to her.] There is just half a chance, if you keep your head. Remember: nine soldiers out of ten are born fools. [He hides behind the curtain, looking out for a moment to say, finally.] If they find me, I promise you a fight—a devil of a fight! [He disappears. Raina takes of the cloak and throws it across the foot of the bed. Then with a sleepy, disturbed air, she opens the door. Louka enters excitedly.]

      LOUKA. A man has been seen climbing up the water-pipe to your balcony—a Servian. The soldiers want to search for him; and they are so wild and drunk and furious. My lady says you are to dress at once.

      RAINA. [As if annoyed at being disturbed.] They shall not search here. Why have they been let in?

      CATHERINE. [Coming in hastily.] Raina, darling, are you safe? Have you seen anyone or heard anything?

      RAINA. I heard the shooting. Surely the soldiers will not dare come in here?

      CATHERINE. I have found a Russian officer, thank Heaven: he knows Sergius. [Speaking through the door to someone outside.] Sir, will you come in now! My daughter is ready. [A young Russian officer, in Bulgarian uniform, enters, sword in hand.]

      THE OFFICER. [With soft, feline politeness and stiff military carriage.] Good evening, gracious lady; I am sorry to intrude, but there is a fugitive hiding on the balcony. Will you and the gracious lady your mother please to withdraw whilst we search?

      RAINA. [Petulantly.] Nonsense, sir, you can see that there is no one on the balcony. [She throws the shutters wide open and stands with her back to the curtain where the man is hidden, pointing to the moonlit balcony. A couple of shots are fired right under the window, and a bullet shatters the glass opposite Raina, who winks and gasps, but stands her ground, whilst Catherine screams, and the officer rushes to the balcony.]

      THE OFFICER. [On the balcony, shouting savagely down to the street.] Cease firing there, you fools: do you hear? Cease firing, damn you. [He glares down for a moment; then turns to Raina, trying to resume his polite manner.] Could anyone have got in without your knowledge? Were you asleep?

      RAINA. No, I have not been to bed.

      THE OFFICER. [Impatiently, coming back into the room.] Your neighbours have their heads so full of runaway Servians that they see them everywhere. [Politely.] Gracious lady, a thousand pardons. Good-night. [Military bow, which Raina returns coldly. Another to Catherine, who follows him out. Raina closes the shutters. She turns and sees Louka, who has been watching the scene curiously.]

      RAINA. Don’t leave my mother, Louka, whilst the soldiers are here. [Louka glances at Raina, at the ottoman, at the curtain; then purses her lips secretively, laughs to herself, and goes out. Raina follows her to the door, shuts it behind her with a slam, and locks it violently. The man immediately steps out from behind the curtain, sheathing his sabre, and dismissing the danger from his mind in a businesslike way.]

      MAN. A narrow shave; but a miss is as good as a mile. Dear young lady, your servant until death. I wish for your sake I had joined the Bulgarian army instead of the Servian. I am not a native Servian.

      RAINA. [Haughtily.] No, you are one of the Austrians who set the Servians on to rob us of our national liberty, and who officer their army for them. We hate them!

      MAN. Austrian! not I. Don’t hate me, dear young lady. I am only a Swiss, fighting merely as a professional soldier. I joined Servia because it was nearest to me. Be generous: you’ve beaten us hollow.

      RAINA. Have I not been generous?

      MAN. Noble!—heroic! But I’m not saved yet. This particular rush will soon pass through; but the pursuit will go on all night by fits and starts. I must take my chance to get off during a quiet interval. You don’t mind my waiting just a minute or two, do you?

      RAINA. Oh, no: I am sorry you will have to go into danger again. [Motioning towards ottoman.] Won’t you sit—[She breaks off with an irrepressible cry of alarm as she catches sight of the pistol. The man, all nerves, shies like a frightened horse.]

      MAN. [Irritably.] Don’t frighten me like that. What is it?

      RAINA. Your pistol! It was staring that officer in the face all the time. What an escape!

      MAN. [Vexed at being unnecessarily terrified.] Oh, is that all?

      RAINA. [Staring at him rather superciliously, conceiving a poorer and poorer opinion of him, and feeling proportionately more and more at her ease with him.] I am sorry I frightened you. [She takes up the pistol and hands it to him.] Pray take it to protect yourself against me.

      MAN. [Grinning wearily at the sarcasm as he takes the pistol.] No use, dear young lady: there’s nothing in it. It’s not loaded. [He makes a grimace at it, and drops it disparagingly into his revolver case.]

      RAINA. Load it by all means.

      MAN. I’ve no ammunition. What use are cartridges in battle? I always carry chocolate instead; and I finished the last cake of that yesterday.

      RAINA. [Outraged in her most cherished ideals of manhood.] Chocolate! Do you stuff your pockets with sweets—like a schoolboy—even in the field?

      MAN. Yes. Isn’t it contemptible? [Raina stares at him, unable to utter her feelings. Then she sails away scornfully to the chest of drawers, and returns with the box of confectionery in her hand.]

      RAINA. Allow me. I am sorry I have eaten them all except these. [She offers him the box.]

      MAN. [Ravenously.] You’re an angel! [He gobbles the comfits.] Creams! Delicious! [He looks anxiously to see whether there are any more. There are none. He accepts the inevitable with pathetic goodhumor, and says, with grateful emotion.] Bless you, dear lady. You can always tell an old soldier by the inside of his holsters and cartridge boxes. The young ones carry pistols and cartridges; the old ones, grub. Thank you. [He hands back the box. She snatches it contemptuously from him and throws it away. This impatient action is so sudden that he shies again.] Ugh! Don’t do things so suddenly, gracious lady. Don’t revenge yourself because I frightened you just now.

      RAINA. [Superbly.] Frighten me! Do you know, sir, that though I am only a woman, I think I am at heart as brave as you.

      MAN. I should think so. You haven’t been under fire for three days as I have. I can stand two days without shewing it much; but no man can stand three days: I’m as nervous as a mouse. [He sits down on the ottoman, and takes his head in his hands.] Would you like to see me cry?

      RAINA. [Quickly.] No.

      MAN. If you would, all you have to do is to scold me just as if I were a little boy and you my nurse. If I were in camp now they’d play all sorts of tricks on me.

      RAINA. [A little moved.] I’m sorry. I won’t scold you. [Touched by the sympathy in her tone, he raises his head and looks gratefully at her: she immediately draws hack and says stiffly.] You must excuse me: our soldiers are not like that. [She