SERGIUS.
(charmed). Witty as well as pretty. (He tries to kiss her.)
LOUKA.
(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 he 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?