PETKOFF.
(officiously). Quite right, Bluntschli, quite right. I’ll see to it. (He goes to the door importantly, but hesitates on the threshold.) By the bye, Catherine, you may as well come, too. They’ll be far more frightened of you than of me.
CATHERINE.
(putting down her embroidery). I daresay I had better. You will only splutter at them. (She goes out, Petkoff holding the door for her and following her.)
BLUNTSCHLI.
What a country! They make cannons out of cherry trees; and the officers send for their wives to keep discipline! (He begins to fold and docket the papers. Raina, who has risen from the divan, strolls down the room with her hands clasped behind her, and looks mischievously at him.)
RAINA.
You look ever so much nicer than when we last met. (He looks up, surprised.) What have you done to yourself?
BLUNTSCHLI.
Washed; brushed; good night’s sleep and breakfast. That’s all.
RAINA.
Did you get back safely that morning?
BLUNTSCHLI.
Quite, thanks.
RAINA.
Were they angry with you for running away from Sergius’s charge?
BLUNTSCHLI.
No, they were glad; because they’d all just run away themselves.
RAINA.
(going to the table, and leaning over it towards him). It must have made a lovely story for them—all that about me and my room.