BLUNTSCHLI.
Capital story. But I only told it to one of them—a particular friend.
RAINA.
On whose discretion you could absolutely rely?
BLUNTSCHLI.
Absolutely.
RAINA.
Hm! He told it all to my father and Sergius the day you exchanged the prisoners. (She turns away and strolls carelessly across to the other side of the room.)
BLUNTSCHLI.
(deeply concerned and half incredulous). No! you don’t mean that, do you?
RAINA.
(turning, with sudden earnestness). I do indeed. But they don’t know that it was in this house that you hid. If Sergius knew, he would challenge you and kill you in a duel.
BLUNTSCHLI.
Bless me! then don’t tell him.
RAINA.
(full of reproach for his levity). Can you realize what it is to me to deceive him? I want to be quite perfect with Sergius—no meanness, no smallness, no deceit. My relation to him is the one really beautiful and noble part of my life. I hope you can understand that.
BLUNTSCHLI.
(sceptically). You mean that you wouldn’t like him to find out that the story about the ice pudding was a—a—a—You know.
RAINA.
(wincing). Ah, don’t talk of it in that flippant way. I lied: I know it. But I did it to save your life. He would have killed you. That was the second time I ever uttered a falsehood. (Bluntschli rises quickly and looks doubtfully and somewhat severely at her.) Do you remember the first time?