Act II

The sixth of March, 1886. In the garden of major
Petkoff's house. It is a fine spring morning; and
the garden looks fresh and pretty. Beyond the
paling the tops of a couple of minarets can he
seen, shewing that there it a valley there, with
the little town in it. A few miles further the
Balkan mountains rise and shut in the view. Within
the garden the side of the house is seen on the
right, with a garden door reached by a little
flight of steps. On the left the stable yard, with
its gateway, encroaches on the garden. There are
fruit bushes along the paling and house, covered
with washing hung out to dry. A path runs by the
house, and rises by two steps at the corner where
it turns out of the right along the front. In the
middle a small table, with two bent wood chairs at
it, is laid for breakfast with Turkish coffee pot,
cups, rolls, etc.; but the cups have been used and
the bread broken. There is a wooden garden seat
against the wall on the left.

Louka, smoking a cigaret, is standing between the
table and the house, turning her back with angry
disdain on a man-servant who is lecturing her. He
is a middle-aged man of cool temperament and low
but clear and keen intelligence, with the
complacency of the servant who values himself on
his rank in servility, and the imperturbability of
the accurate calculator who has no illusions. He
wears a white Bulgarian costume jacket with
decorated harder, sash, wide knickerbockers, and
decorated gaiters. His head is shaved up to the
crown, giving him a high Japanese forehead. His
name is Nicola.

NICOLA. Be warned in time, Louka: mend your manners. I know the
mistress. She is so grand that she never dreams that any servant
could dare to be disrespectful to her; but if she once suspects
that you are defying her, out you go.

LOUKA. I do defy her. I will defy her. What do I care for her?

NICOLA. If you quarrel with the family, I never can marry you.
It's the same as if you quarrelled with me!

LOUKA. You take her part against me, do you?

NICOLA (sedately). I shall always be dependent on the good will
of the family. When I leave their service and start a shop in
Sofea, their custom will be half my capital: their bad word
would ruin me.

LOUKA. You have no spirit. I should like to see them dare say a
word against me!

NICOLA (pityingly). I should have expected more sense from you,
Louka. But you're young, you're young!

LOUKA. Yes; and you like me the better for it, don't you? But I
know some family secrets they wouldn't care to have told, young
as I am. Let them quarrel with me if they dare!

NICOLA (with compassionate superiority). Do you know what they