SERGIUS.
This is either the finest heroism or the most crawling baseness. Which is it, Bluntschli?
BLUNTSCHLI.
Never mind whether it’s heroism or baseness. Nicola’s the ablest man I’ve met in Bulgaria. I’ll make him manager of a hotel if he can speak French and German.
LOUKA.
(suddenly breaking out at Sergius). I have been insulted by everyone here. You set them the example. You owe me an apology. (Sergius immediately, like a repeating clock of which the spring has been touched, begins to fold his arms.)
BLUNTSCHLI.
(before he can speak). It’s no use. He never apologizes.
LOUKA.
Not to you, his equal and his enemy. To me, his poor servant, he will not refuse to apologize.
SERGIUS.
(approvingly). You are right. (He bends his knee in his grandest manner.) Forgive me!
LOUKA.
I forgive you. (She timidly gives him her hand, which he kisses.) That touch makes me your affianced wife.
SERGIUS.
(springing up). Ah, I forgot that!
LOUKA.
(coldly). You can withdraw if you like.
SERGIUS.
Withdraw! Never! You belong to me! (He puts his arm about her and draws her to him.) (Catherine comes in and finds Louka in Sergius’s arms, and all the rest gazing at them in bewildered astonishment.)