Then there is a scratch; and the flame of a match is seen in the middle of the room.

RAINA [crouching on the bed] Who’s there ? [The match is out instantly]. Who’s there ? Who is that ?

A MAN’S VOICE [in the darkness, subduedly, but threateningly] Sh – sh! Dont call out; or youll be shot. Be good; and no harm will happen to you. [She is heard leaving her bed, and making for the door]. Take care: it’s no use trying to run away.

RAINA. But who –

THE VOICE [warning] Remember: if you raise your voice my revolver will go off. [Commandingly]. Strike a light and let me see you. Do you hear. [Another moment of silence and darkness as she retreats to the chest of drawers. Then she lights a candle; and the mystery is at an end. He is a man of about 35, in a deplorable plight, bespattered with mud and blood and snow, his belt and the strap of his revolver-case keeping together the torn ruins of the blue tunic of a Serbian artillery officer. All that the candlelight and his unwashed unkempt condition make it possible to discern is that he is of middling stature and undistinguished appearance, with strong neck and shoulders, roundish obstinate looking head covered with short crisp bronze curls, clear quick eyes and good brows and mouth, hopelessly prosaic nose like that of a strong minded baby, trim soldierlike carriage and energetic manner, and with all his wits about him in spite of his desperate predicament: even with a sense of the humor of it, without, however, the least intention of trifling with it or throwing away a chance. Reckoning up what he can guess about Raina: her age, her social position, her character, and the extent to which she is frightened, he continues, more politely but still most determinedly] Excuse my disturbing you; but you recognize my uniform ? Serb! If I’m caught I shall be killed. [Menacingly] Do you understand that ?

RAINA. Yes

THE MAN. Well, I dont intend to get killed if I can help it. [Still more formidably] Do you understand that ? [He locks the door quickly but quietly].

RAINA [disdainfully] I suppose not. [She draws herself up superbly, and looks him straight in the face, adding, with cutting emphasis] Some soldiers, I know, are afraid to die.

THE MAN [with grim goodhumor] All of them, dear lady, all of them, believe me. It is our duty to live as long as we can. Now, if you raise an alarm –

RAINA [cutting him short] You will shoot me. How do you know that I am afraid to die ?

THE MAN [cunningly] Ah; but suppose I dont shoot you, what will happen then ? A lot of your cavalry will burst into this pretty room of yours and slaughter me here like a pig; for I’ll fight like a demon: they shant get me into the street to amuse themselves with: I know what they are. Are you prepared to receive that sort of company in your present undress ? [Raina, suddenly conscious of her nightgown, instinctively shrinks and gathers it more closely about her neck. He watches her and adds pitilessly] Hardly presentable, eh ? [She turns to the ottoman. He raises his pistol instantly, and cries] Stop! [She stops]. Where are you going ?

RAINA [with dignified patience] Only to get my cloak.

THE MAN [passing swiftly to the ottoman and snatching the cloak] A good idea! I’ll keep the cloak; and youll take care that nobody comes in and sees you without it. This is a better weapon than the revolver: eh ? [He throws the pistol down on the ottoman].

RAINA [revolted] It is not the weapon of a gentleman!

THE MAN. It’s good enough for a man with only you to stand between him and death. [As they look at one another for a moment, Raina hardly able to believe that even a Serbian officer can be so cynically and selfishly unchivalrous, they are startled by a sharp fusillade in the street. The chill of imminent death hushes the man’s voice as he adds] Do you hear ? If you are going to bring those blackguards in on me you shall receive them as you are.

Clamor and disturbance.