BLUNTSCHLI.
I! No. Was I present?
RAINA.
Yes; and I told the officer who was searching for you that you were not present.
BLUNTSCHLI.
True. I should have remembered it.
RAINA.
(greatly encouraged). Ah, it is natural that you should forget it first. It cost you nothing: it cost me a lie!—a lie!! (She sits down on the ottoman, looking straight before her with her hands clasped on her knee. Bluntschli, quite touched, goes to the ottoman with a particularly reassuring and considerate air, and sits down beside her.)
BLUNTSCHLI.
My dear young lady, don’t let this worry you. Remember: I’m a soldier. Now what are the two things that happen to a soldier so often that he comes to think nothing of them? One is hearing people tell lies (Raina recoils): the other is getting his life saved in all sorts of ways by all sorts of people.
RAINA.
(rising in indignant protest). And so he becomes a creature incapable of faith and of gratitude.
BLUNTSCHLI.
(making a wry face). Do you like gratitude? I don’t. If pity is akin to love, gratitude is akin to the other thing.
RAINA.
Gratitude! (Turning on him.) If you are incapable of gratitude you are incapable of any noble sentiment. Even animals are grateful. Oh, I see now exactly what you think of me! You were not surprised to hear me lie. To you it was something I probably did every day—every hour. That is how men think of women. (She walks up the room melodramatically.)
BLUNTSCHLI.
(dubiously). There’s reason in everything. You said you’d told only two lies in your whole life. Dear young lady: isn’t that rather a short allowance? I’m quite a straightforward man myself; but it wouldn’t last me a whole morning.
RAINA.
(staring haughtily at him). Do you know, sir, that you are insulting me?