Act II - Page 2

would do if they heard you talk like that?

LOUKA. What could they do?

NICOLA. Discharge you for untruthfulness. Who would believe any
stories you told after that? Who would give you another
situation? Who in this house would dare be seen speaking to you
ever again? How long would your father be left on his little
farm? (She impatiently throws away the end of her cigaret, and
stamps on it.) Child, you don't know the power such high people
have over the like of you and me when we try to rise out of our
poverty against them. (He goes close to her and lowers his
voice.) Look at me, ten years in their service. Do you think I
know no secrets? I know things about the mistress that she
wouldn't have the master know for a thousand levas. I know
things about him that she wouldn't let him hear the last of for
six months if I blabbed them to her. I know things about Raina
that would break off her match with Sergius if--

LOUKA (turning on him quickly). How do you know? I never told
you!

NICOLA (opening his eyes cunningly). So that's your little
secret, is it? I thought it might be something like that. Well,
you take my advice, and be respectful; and make the mistress
feel that no matter what you know or don't know, they can depend
on you to hold your tongue and serve the family faithfully.
That's what they like; and that's how you'll make most out of
them.

LOUKA (with searching scorn). You have 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. Hollo! Hollo 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
Servian 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