SERGIUS.
(also excited). Bravo, Switzerland! Major: I bet my best charger against an Arab mare for Raina that Nicola finds the coat in the blue closet.
PETKOFF.
(eagerly). Your best char—
CATHERINE.
(hastily interrupting him). Don’t be foolish, Paul. An Arabian mare will cost you 50,000 levas.
RAINA.
(suddenly coming out of her picturesque revery). Really, mother, if you are going to take the jewellery, I don’t see why you should grudge me my Arab.
(Nicola comes back with the coat and brings it to Petkoff, who can hardly believe his eyes.)
CATHERINE.
Where was it, Nicola?
NICOLA.
Hanging in the blue closet, madam.
PETKOFF.
Well, I am d—
CATHERINE.
(stopping him). Paul!
PETKOFF.
I could have sworn it wasn’t there. Age is beginning to tell on me. I’m getting hallucinations. (To Nicola.) Here: help me to change. Excuse me, Bluntschli. (He begins changing coats, Nicola acting as valet.) Remember: I didn’t take that bet of yours, Sergius. You’d better give Raina that Arab steed yourself, since you’ve roused her expectations. Eh, Raina? (He looks round at her; but she is again rapt in the landscape. With a little gush of paternal affection and pride, he points her out to them and says) She’s dreaming, as usual.