He bows gallantly and is rewarded by a very gracious smile. Then
Catherine goes into her cabinet, followed by the princess Dashkoff, who
turns at the door to make a deep courtsey to Edstaston.

VARINKA. Happy Little Father! Remember: I did this for you. [She runs
out after the Empress.]

Edstaston, somewhat dazed, crosses the room to the courtiers, and is
received with marked deference, each courtier making him a profound bow
or curtsey before withdrawing through the central doors. He returns
each obeisance with a nervous jerk, and turns away from it, only to find
another courtier bowing at the other side. The process finally reduced
him to distraction, as he bumps into one in the act of bowing to another
and then has to bow his apologies. But at last they are all gone except
Naryshkin.

EDSTASTON. Ouf!

PATIOMKIN [jumping up vigorously]. You have done it, darling. Superbly!
Beautifully!

EDSTASTON [astonished]. Do you mean to say you are not drunk?

PATIOMKIN. Not dead drunk, darling. Only diplomatically drunk. As a
drunken hog, I have done for you in five minutes what I could not have
done in five months as a sober man. Your fortune is made. She likes you.

EDSTASTON. The devil she does!

PATIOMKIN. Why? Aren't you delighted?

EDSTASTON. Delighted! Gracious heavens, man, I am engaged to be married.

PATIOMKIN. What matter? She is in England, isn't she?

EDSTASTON. No. She has just arrived in St. Petersburg.

THE PRINCESS DASHKOFF [returning]. Captain Edstaston, the Empress is
robed, and commands your presence.

EDSTASTON. Say I was gone before you arrived with the message. [He
hurries out. The other three, too taken aback to stop him, stare after
him in the utmost astonishment.]

NARYSHKIN [turning from the door]. She will have him knouted. He is a
dead man.

THE PRINCESS DASHKOFF. But what am I to do? I cannot take such an answer
to the Empress.

PATIOMKIN. P-P-P-P-P-P-W-W-W-W-W-rrrrrr [a long puff, turning into a
growl]! [He spits.] I must kick somebody.

NARYSHKIN [flying precipitately through the central doors]. No, no.
Please.

THE PRINCESS DASHKOFF [throwing herself recklessly in front of Patiomkin
as he starts in pursuit of the Chamberlain]. Kick me. Disable me. It
will be an excuse for not going back to her. Kick me hard.

PATIOMKIN. Yah! [He flings her on the bed and dashes after Naryshkin.]




THE THIRD SCENE

In a terrace garden overlooking the Neva. Claire, a robust young English
lady, is leaning on the river wall. She turns expectantly on hearing
the garden gate opened and closed. Edstaston hurries in. With a cry of
delight she throws her arms round his neck.

CLAIRE. Darling!

EDSTASTON [making a wry face]. Don't call me darling.

CLAIRE [amazed and chilled]. Why?

EDSTASTON. I have been called darling all the morning.

CLAIRE [with a flash of jealousy]. By whom?

EDSTASTON. By everybody. By the most unutterable swine. And if we do
not leave this abominable city now: do you hear? now; I shall be called
darling by the Empress.

CLAIRE [with magnificent snobbery]. She would not dare. Did you tell her
you were engaged to me?

EDSTASTON. Of course not.

CLAIRE. Why?

EDSTASTON. Because I didn't particularly want to have you knouted, and
to be hanged or sent to Siberia myself.

CLAIRE. What on earth do you mean?

EDSTASTON. Well, the long and short of it is--don't think me a coxcomb,
Claire: it is too serious to mince matters--I have seen the Empress;
and--

CLAIRE. Well, you wanted to see her.

EDSTASTON. Yes; but the Empress has seen me.

CLAIRE. She has fallen in love with you!

EDSTASTON. How did you know?

CLAIRE. Dearest: as if anyone could help it.

EDSTASTON. Oh, don't make me feel like a fool. But, though it does sound
conceited to say it, I flatter myself I'm better looking than Patiomkin
and the other hogs she is accustomed to. Anyhow, I daren't risk staying.

CLAIRE. What a nuisance! Mamma will be furious at having to pack, and at
missing the Court ball this evening.

EDSTASTON. I can't help that. We haven't a moment to lose.

CLAIRE. May I tell her she will be knouted if we stay?

EDSTASTON. Do, dearest.

He kisses her and lets her go, expecting her to run into the house.

CLAIRE [pausing thoughtfully]. Is she--is she good-looking when you see
her close?

EDSTASTON. Not a patch on you, dearest.

CLAIRE [jealous]. Then you did see her close?

EDSTASTON. Fairly close.

CLAIRE. Indeed! How close? No: that's silly of me: I will tell mamma.
[She is going out when Naryshkin enters with the Sergeant and a squad of
soldiers.] What do you want here?

The Sergeant goes to Edstaston: plumps down on his knees: and takes
out a magnificent pair of pistols with gold grips. He proffers them to
Edstaston, holding them by the barrels.

NARYSHKIN. Captain Edstaston: his Highness Prince Patiomkin sends you
the pistols he promised you.

THE SERGEANT. Take them, Little Father; and do not forget us poor
soldiers who have brought them to you; for God knows we get but little
to drink.

EDSTASTON [irresolutely]. But I can't take these valuable things. By
Jiminy, though, they're beautiful! Look at them, Claire.

As he is taking the pistols the kneeling Sergeant suddenly drops them;
flings himself forward; and embraces Edstaston's hips to prevent him
from drawing his own pistols from his boots.

THE SERGEANT. Lay hold of him there. Pin his arms. I have his pistols.
[The soldiers seize Edstaston.]

EDSTASTON. Ah, would you, damn you! [He drives his knee into the
Sergeant's epigastrium, and struggles furiously with his captors.]

THE SERGEANT [rolling on the ground, gasping and groaning]. Owgh!
Murder! Holy Nicholas! Owwwgh!

CLAIRE. Help! help! They are killing Charles. Help!

NARYSHKIN [seizing her and clapping his hand over her mouth]. Tie
him neck and crop. Ten thousand blows of the stick if you let him go.
[Claire twists herself loose: turns on him: and cuffs him furiously.]
Yow--ow! Have mercy, Little Mother.

CLAIRE. You wretch! Help! Help! Police! We are being murdered. Help!

The Sergeant, who has risen, comes to Naryshkin's rescue, and grasps
Claire's hands, enabling Naryshkin to gag her again. By this time
Edstaston and his captors are all rolling on the ground together. They
get Edstaston on his back and fasten his wrists together behind his
knees. Next they put a broad strap round his ribs. Finally they pass a
pole through this breast strap and through the waist strap and lift him
by it, helplessly trussed up, to carry him of. Meanwhile he is by no
means suffering in silence.

EDSTASTON [gasping]. You shall hear more of this. Damn you, will
you untie me? I will complain to the ambassador. I will write to the
Gazette. England will blow your trumpery little fleet out of the water
and sweep your tinpot army into Siberia for this. Will you let me
go? Damn you! Curse you! What the devil do you mean by it?
I'll--I'll--I'll-- [he is carried out of hearing].

NARYSHKIN [snatching his hands from Claire's face with a scream, and
shaking his finger frantically]. Agh! [The Sergeant, amazed, lets go her
hands.] She has bitten me, the little vixen.

CLAIRE [spitting and wiping her mouth disgustedly]. How dare you put
your dirty paws on my mouth? Ugh! Psha!

THE SERGEANT. Be merciful, Little angel Mother.

CLAIRE. Do not presume to call me your little angel mother. Where are
the police?

NARYSHKIN. We are the police in St Petersburg, little spitfire.

THE SERGEANT. God knows we have no orders to harm you, Little Mother.
Our duty is done. You are well and strong; but I shall never be the same
man again. He is a mighty and terrible fighter, as stout as a bear.
He has broken my sweetbread with his strong knees. God knows poor folk
should not be set upon such dangerous adversaries!

CLAIRE. Serve you right! Where have they taken Captain Edstaston to?

NARYSHKIN [spitefully]. To the Empress, little beauty. He has insulted
the Empress. He will receive a hundred and one blows of the knout. [He
laughs and goes out, nursing his bitten finger.]

THE SERGEANT. He will feel only the first twenty and he will be
mercifully dead long before the end, little darling.

CLAIRE [sustained by an invincible snobbery]. They dare not touch an
English officer. I will go to the Empress myself: she cannot know who
Captain Edstaston is--who we are.

THE SERGEANT. Do so in the name of the Holy Nicholas, little beauty.

CLAIRE. Don't be impertinent. How can I get admission to the palace?

THE SERGEANT. Everybody goes in and out of the palace, little love.

CLAIRE. But I must get into the Empress's presence. I must speak to her.

THE SERGEANT. You shall, dear Little Mother. You shall give the poor old
Sergeant a rouble; and the blessed Nicholas will make your salvation his
charge.

CLAIRE [impetuously]. I will give you [she is about to say fifty
roubles, but checks herself cautiously]--Well: I don't mind giving you
two roubles if I can speak to the Empress.

THE SERGEANT [joyfully]. I praise Heaven for you, Little Mother. Come.
[He leads the way out.] It was the temptation of the devil that led
your young man to bruise my vitals and deprive me of breath. We must be
merciful to one another's faults.




THE FOURTH SCENE

A triangular recess communicating by a heavily curtained arch with the
huge ballroom of the palace. The light is subdued by red shades on the
candles. In the wall adjoining that pierced by the arch is a door. The
only piece of furniture is a very handsome chair on the arch side. In
the ballroom they are dancing a polonaise to the music of a brass band.

Naryshkin enters through the door, followed by the soldiers carrying
Edstaston, still trussed to the pole. Exhausted and dogged, he makes no
sound.

NARYSHKIN. Halt. Get that pole clear of the prisoner. [They dump
Edstaston on the floor and detach the pole. Naryshkin stoops over him
and addresses him insultingly.] Well! are you ready to be tortured? This
is the Empress's private torture chamber. Can I do anything to make you
quite comfortable? You have only to mention it.

EDSTASTON. Have you any back teeth?

NARYSHKIN [surprised]. Why?

EDSTASTON. His Majesty King George the Third will send for six of them
when the news of this reaches London; so look out, damn your eyes!

NARYSHKIN [frightened]. Oh, I assure you I am only obeying my orders.
Personally I abhor torture, and would save you if I could. But the
Empress is proud; and what woman would forgive the slight you put upon
her?

EDSTASTON. As I said before: Damn your eyes!

NARYSHKIN [almost in tears]. Well, it isn't my fault. [To the soldiers,
insolently.] You know your orders? You remember what you have to do when
the Empress gives you the word? [The soldiers salute in assent.]

Naryshkin passes through the curtains, admitting a blare of music and
a strip of the brilliant white candlelight from the chandeliers in
the ballroom as he does so. The white light vanishes and the music is
muffled as the curtains fall together behind him. Presently the band
stops abruptly: and Naryshkin comes back through the curtains. He makes
a warning gesture to the soldiers, who stand at attention. Then he
moves the curtain to allow Catherine to enter. She is in full Imperial
regalia, and stops sternly just where she has entered. The soldiers fall
on their knees.

CATHERINE. Obey your orders.

The soldiers seize Edstaston, and throw him roughly at the feet of the
Empress.

CATHERINE [looking down coldly on him]. Also [the German word], you have
put me to the trouble of sending for you twice. You had better have come
the first time.

EDSTASTON [exsufflicate, and pettishly angry]. I haven't come either
time. I've been carried. I call it infernal impudence.

CATHERINE. Take care what you say.

EDSTASTON. No use. I daresay you look very majestic and very handsome;
but I can't see you; and I am not intimidated. I am an Englishman; and
you can kidnap me; but you can't bully me.

NARYSHKIN. Remember to whom you are speaking.

CATHERINE [violently, furious at his intrusion]. Remember that dogs
should be dumb. [He shrivels.] And do you, Captain, remember that famous
as I am for my clemency, there are limits to the patience even of an
Empress.

EDSTASTON. How is a man to remember anything when he is trussed up
in this ridiculous fashion? I can hardly breathe. [He makes a futile
struggle to free himself.] Here: don't be unkind, your Majesty: tell
these fellows to unstrap me. You know you really owe me an apology.

CATHERINE. You think you can escape by appealing, like Prince Patiomkin,
to my sense of humor?

EDSTASTON. Sense of humor! Ho! Ha, ha! I like that. Would anybody with
a sense of humor make a guy of a man like this, and then expect him to
take it seriously? I say: do tell them to loosen these straps.

CATHERINE [seating herself]. Why should I, pray?

EDSTASTON. Why! Why! Why, because they're hurting me.

CATHERINE. People sometimes learn through suffering. Manners, for
instance.

EDSTASTON. Oh, well, of course, if you're an ill-natured woman, hurting
me on purpose, I have nothing more to say.

CATHERINE. A monarch, sir, has sometimes to employ a necessary, and
salutary severity--

EDSTASTON [Interrupting her petulantly]. Quack! quack! quack!

CATHERINE. Donnerwetter!

EDSTASTON [continuing recklessly]. This isn't severity: it's tomfoolery.
And if you think it's reforming my character or teaching me anything,
you're mistaken. It may be a satisfaction to you; but if it is, all I
can say is that it's not an amiable satisfaction.

CATHERINE [turning suddenly and balefully on Naryshkin]. What are you
grinning at?

NARYSHKIN [falling on his knees in terror]. Be merciful, Little Mother.
My heart is in my mouth.

CATHERINE. Your heart and your mouth will be in two separate parts of
your body if you again forget in whose presence you stand. Go. And take
your men with you. [Naryshkin crawls to the door. The soldiers rise.]
Stop. Roll that [indicating Edstaston] nearer. [The soldiers obey.] Not
so close. Did I ask you for a footstool? [She pushes Edstaston away with
her foot.]

EDSTASTON [with a sudden squeal]. Agh!!! I must really ask your
Majesty not to put the point of your Imperial toe between my ribs. I am
ticklesome.

CATHERINE. Indeed? All the more reason for you to treat me with respect,
Captain. [To the others.] Begone. How many times must I give an order
before it is obeyed?

NARYSHKIN. Little Mother: they have brought some instruments of torture.
Will they be needed?

CATHERINE [indignantly]. How dare you name such abominations to a
Liberal Empress? You will always be a savage and a fool, Naryshkin.
These relics of barbarism are buried, thank God, in the grave of Peter
the Great. My methods are more civilized. [She extends her toe towards
Edstaston's ribs.]

EDSTASTON [shrieking hysterically]. Yagh! Ah! [Furiously.] If your
Majesty does that again I will write to the London Gazette.

CATHERINE [to the soldiers]. Leave us. Quick! do you hear? Five thousand
blows of the stick for the soldier who is in the room when I speak
next. [The soldiers rush out.] Naryshkin: are you waiting to be knouted?
[Naryshkin backs out hastily.]

Catherine and Edstaston are now alone. Catherine has in her hand a
sceptre or baton of gold. Wrapped round it is a new pamphlet, in French,
entitled L'Homme aux Quarante Ecus. She calmly unrolls this and begins
to read it at her ease as if she were quite alone. Several seconds
elapse in dead silence. She becomes more and more absorbed in the
pamphlet, and more and more amused by it.

CATHERINE [greatly pleased by a passage, and turning over the leaf].
Ausgezeiehnet!

EDSTASTON. Ahem!

Silence. Catherine reads on.

CATHERINE. Wie komisch!

EDSTASTON. Ahem! ahem!

Silence.

CATHERINE [soliloquizing enthusiastically]. What a wonderful author is
Monsieur Voltaire! How lucidly he exposes the folly of this crazy plan
for raising the entire revenue of the country from a single tax on land!
how he withers it with his irony! how he makes you laugh whilst he is
convincing you! how sure one feels that the proposal is killed by his
wit and economic penetration: killed never to be mentioned again among
educated people!

EDSTASTON. For Heaven's sake, Madam, do you intend to leave me tied up
like this while you discuss the blasphemies of that abominable infidel?
Agh!! [She has again applied her toe.] Oh! Oo!

CATHERINE [calmly]. Do I understand you to say that Monsieur Voltaire is
a great philanthropist and a great philosopher as well as the wittiest
man in Europe?

EDSTASTON. Certainly not. I say that his books ought to be burnt by
the common hangman [her toe touches his ribs]. Yagh! Oh don't. I shall
faint. I can't bear it.

CATHERINE. Have you changed your opinion of Monsieur Voltaire?

EDSTASTON. But you can't expect me as a member of the Church of England
[she tickles him] --agh! Ow! Oh Lord! he is anything you like. He is a
philanthropist, a philosopher, a beauty: he ought to have a statue, damn
him! [she tickles him]. No! bless him! save him victorious, happy and
glorious! Oh, let eternal honors crown his name: Voltaire thrice worthy
on the rolls of fame! [Exhausted.] Now will you let me up? And look
here! I can see your ankles when you tickle me: it's not ladylike.

CATHERINE [sticking out her toe and admiring it critically]. Is the
spectacle so disagreeable?

EDSTASTON. It's agreeable enough; only [with intense expression] for
heaven's sake don't touch me in the ribs.

CATHERINE [putting aside the pamphlet]. Captain Edstaston, why did you
refuse to come when I sent for you?

EDSTASTON. Madam, I cannot talk tied up like this.

CATHERINE. Do you still admire me as much as you did this morning?

EDSTASTON. How can I possibly tell when I can't see you? Let me get up
and look. I can't see anything now except my toes and yours.

CATHERINE. Do you still intend to write to the London Gazette about me?

EDSTASTON. Not if you will loosen these straps. Quick: loosen me. I'm
fainting.

CATHERINE. I don't think you are [tickling him].

EDSTASTON. Agh! Cat!

CATHERINE. What [she tickles him again].

EDSTASTON [with a shriek]. No: angel, angel!

CATHERINE [tenderly]. Geliebter!

EDSTASTON. I don't know a word of German; but that sounded kind.
[Becoming hysterical.] Little Mother, beautiful little darling angel
mother: don't be cruel: untie me. Oh, I beg and implore you. Don't be
unkind. I shall go mad.

CATHERINE. You are expected to go mad with love when an Empress deigns
to interest herself in you. When an Empress allows you to see her foot
you should kiss it. Captain Edstaston, you are a booby.

EDSTASTON [indignantly]. I am nothing of the kind. I have been mentioned
in dispatches as a highly intelligent officer. And let me warn your
Majesty that I am not so helpless as you think. The English Ambassador
is in that ballroom. A shout from me will bring him to my side; and then
where will your Majesty be?

CATHERINE. I should like to see the English Ambassador or anyone else
pass through that curtain against my orders. It might be a stone wall
ten feet thick. Shout your loudest. Sob. Curse. Scream. Yell [she
tickles him unmercifully].

EDSTASTON [frantically]. Ahowyou!!!! Agh! oh! Stop! Oh Lord! Ya-a-a-ah!
[A tumult in the ballroom responds to his cries].

VOICES FROM THE BALLROOM. Stand back. You cannot pass. Hold her back
there. The Empress's orders. It is out of the question. No, little
darling, not in there. Nobody is allowed in there. You will be sent to
Siberia. Don't let her through there, on your life. Drag her back. You
will be knouted. It is hopeless, Mademoiselle: you must obey orders.
Guard there! Send some men to hold her.

CLAIRE'S VOICE. Let me go. They are torturing Charles in there. I WILL
go. How can you all dance as if nothing was happening? Let me go, I tell
you. Let--me--go. [She dashes through the curtain, no one dares follow
her.]

CATHERINE [rising in wrath]. How dare you?

CLAIRE [recklessly]. Oh, dare your grandmother! Where is my Charles?
What are they doing to him?

EDSTASTON [shouting]. Claire, loosen these straps, in Heaven's name.
Quick.

CLAIRE [seeing him and throwing herself on her knees at his side]. Oh,
how dare they tie you up like that! [To Catherine.] You wicked wretch!
You Russian savage! [She pounces on the straps, and begins unbuckling
them.]

CATHERINE [conquering herself with a mighty effort]. Now self-control.
Self-control, Catherine. Philosophy. Europe is looking on. [She forces
herself to sit down.]

EDSTASTON. Steady, dearest: it is the Empress. Call her your Imperial
Majesty. Call her Star of the North, Little Mother, Little Darling:
that's what she likes; but get the straps off.

CLAIRE. Keep quiet, dear: I cannot get them off if you move.

CATHERINE [calmly]. Keep quite still, Captain [she tickles him.]

EDSTASTON. Ow! Agh! Ahowyow!

CLAIRE [stopping dead in the act of unbuckling the straps and turning
sick with jealousy as she grasps the situation]. Was THAT what I thought
was your being tortured?

CATHERINE [urbanely]. That is the favorite torture of Catherine the
Second, Mademoiselle. I think the Captain enjoys it very much.

CLAIRE. Then he can have as much more of it as he wants. I am sorry I
intruded. [She rises to go.]

EDSTASTON [catching her train in his teeth and holding on like a
bull-dog]. Don't go. Don't leave me in this horrible state. Loosen me.
[This is what he is saying: but as he says it with the train in his
mouth it is not very intelligible.]

CLAIRE. Let go. You are undignified and ridiculous enough yourself
without making me ridiculous. [She snatches her train away.]

EDSTASTON. Ow! You've nearly pulled my teeth out: you're worse than the
Star of the North. [To Catherine.] Darling Little Mother: you have a
kind heart, the kindest in Europe. Have pity. Have mercy. I love you.
[Claire bursts into tears.] Release me.

CATHERINE. Well, just to show you how much kinder a Russian savage can
be than an English one (though I am sorry to say I am a German) here
goes! [She stoops to loosen the straps.]

CLAIRE [jealously]. You needn't trouble, thank you. [She pounces on
the straps: and the two set Edstaston free between them.] Now get up,
please; and conduct yourself with some dignity if you are not utterly
demoralized.

EDSTASTON. Dignity! Ow! I can't. I'm stiff all over. I shall never be
able to stand up again. Oh Lord! how it hurts! [They seize him by the
shoulders and drag him up.] Yah! Agh! Wow! Oh! Mmmmmm! Oh, Little Angel
Mother, don't ever do this to a man again. Knout him; kill him; roast
him; baste him; head, hang, and quarter him; but don't tie him up like
that and tickle him.

CATHERINE. Your young lady still seems to think that you enjoyed it.

CLAIRE. I know what I think. I will never speak to him again. Your
Majesty can keep him, as far as I am concerned.

CATHERINE. I would not deprive you of him for worlds; though really I
think he's rather a darling [she pats his cheek].

CLAIRE [snorting]. So I see, indeed.

EDSTASTON. Don't be angry, dearest: in this country everybody's a
darling. I'll prove it to you. [To Catherine.] Will your Majesty be good
enough to call Prince Patiomkin?

CATHERINE [surprised into haughtiness]. Why?

EDSTASTON. To oblige me.

Catherine laughs good-humoredly and goes to the curtains and opens them.
The band strikes up a Redowa.

CATHERINE [calling imperiously]. Patiomkin! [The music stops suddenly.]
Here! To me! Go on with your music there, you fools. [The Redowa is
resumed.]

The sergeant rushes from the ballroom to relieve the Empress of the
curtain. Patiomkin comes in dancing with Yarinka.

CATHERINE [to Patiomkin]. The English captain wants you, little darling.

Catherine resumes her seat as Patiomkin intimates by a grotesque bow
that he is at Edstaston's service. Yarinka passes behind Edstaston and
Claire, and posts herself on Claire's right.

EDSTASTON. Precisely. [To Claire. ] You observe, my love: "little
darling." Well, if her Majesty calls him a darling, is it my fault that
she calls me one too?

CLAIRE. I don't care: I don't think you ought to have done it. I am very
angry and offended.

EDSTASTON. They tied me up, dear. I couldn't help it. I fought for all I
was worth.

THE SERGEANT [at the curtains]. He fought with the strength of lions and
bears. God knows I shall carry a broken sweetbread to my grave.

EDSTASTON. You can't mean to throw me over, Claire. [Urgently.] Claire.
Claire.

VARINKA [in a transport of sympathetic emotion, pleading with clasped
hands to Claire]. Oh, sweet little angel lamb, he loves you: it shines
in his darling eyes. Pardon him, pardon him.

PATIOMKIN [rushing from the Empress's side to Claire and falling on his
knees to her]. Pardon him, pardon him, little cherub! little wild duck!
little star! little glory! little jewel in the crown of heaven!

CLAIRE. This is perfectly ridiculous.

VARINKA [kneeling to her]. Pardon him, pardon him, little delight,
little sleeper in a rosy cradle.

CLAIRE. I'll do anything if you'll only let me alone.

THE SERGEANT [kneeling to her]. Pardon him, pardon him, lest the mighty
man bring his whip to you. God knows we all need pardon!

CLAIRE [at the top of her voice]. I pardon him! I pardon him!

PATIOMKIN [springing up joyfully and going behind Claire, whom he raises
in his arms]. Embrace her, victor of Bunker's Hill. Kiss her till she
swoons.

THE SERGEANT. Receive her in the name of the holy Nicholas.

VARINKA. She begs you for a thousand dear little kisses all over her
body.

CLAIRE [vehemently]. I do not. [Patiomkin throws her into Edstaston's
arms.] Oh! [The pair, awkward and shamefaced, recoil from one another,
and remain utterly inexpressive.]

CATHERINE [pushing Edstaston towards Claire]. There is no help for it,
Captain. This is Russia, not England.

EDSTASTON [plucking up some geniality, and kissing Claire ceremoniously
on the brow]. I have no objection.

VARINKA [disgusted]. Only one kiss! and on the forehead! Fish. See how I
kiss, though it is only my horribly ugly old uncle [she throws her arms
round Patiomkin's neck and covers his face with kisses].

THE SERGEANT [moved to tears]. Sainted Nicholas: bless your lambs!

CATHERINE. Do you wonder now that I love Russia as I love no other place
on earth?

NARYSHKIN [appearing at the door]. Majesty: the model for the new museum
has arrived.

CATHERINE [rising eagerly and making for the curtains]. Let us go. I can
think of nothing but my museum. [In the archway she stops and turns to
Edstaston, who has hurried to lift the curtain for her.] Captain, I wish
you every happiness that your little angel can bring you. [For his
ear alone.] I could have brought you more; but you did not think so.
Farewell.

EDSTASTON [kissing her hand, which, instead of releasing, he holds
caressingly and rather patronizingly in his own]. I feel your Majesty's
kindness so much that I really cannot leave you without a word of plain
wholesome English advice.

CATHERINE [snatching her hand away and bounding forward as if he had
touched her with a spur]. Advice!!!

PATIOMKIN. Madman: take care!

NARYSHKIN. Advise the Empress!!

THE SERGEANT. Sainted Nicholas!

VARINKA. Hoo hoo! [a stifled splutter of laughter].

EDSTASTON [following the Empress and resuming kindly but judicially].
After all, though your Majesty is of course a great queen, yet when all
is said, I am a man; and your Majesty is only a woman.

CATHERINE. Only a wo-- [she chokes].

EDSTASTON [continuing]. Believe me, this Russian extravagance will not
do. I appreciate as much as any man the warmth of heart that prompts it;
but it is overdone: it is hardly in the best taste: it is really I must
say it--it is not proper.

CATHERINE [ironically, in German]. So!

EDSTASTON. Not that I cannot make allowances. Your Majesty has, I know,
been unfortunate in your experience as a married woman--

CATHERINE [furious]. Alle Wetter!!!

EDSTASTON [sentimentally]. Don't say that. Don't think of him in that
way. After all, he was your husband; and whatever his faults may have
been, it is not for you to think unkindly of him.

CATHERINE [almost bursting]. I shall forget myself.

EDSTASTON. Come! I am sure he really loved you; and you truly loved him.

CATHERINE [controlling herself with a supreme effort]. No, Catherine.
What would Voltaire say?

EDSTASTON. Oh, never mind that vile scoffer. Set an example to Europe,
Madam, by doing what I am going to do. Marry again. Marry some good man
who will be a strength and support to your old age.

CATHERINE. My old--[she again becomes speechless].

EDSTASTON. Yes: we must all grow old, even the handsomest of us.

CATHERINE [sinking into her chair with a gasp]. Thank you.

EDSTASTON. You will thank me more when you see your little ones round
your knee, and your man there by the fireside in the winter evenings--by
the way, I forgot that you have no fireside here in spite of the
coldness of the climate; so shall I say by the stove?

CATHERINE. Certainly, if you wish. The stove by all means.

EDSTASTON [impulsively]. Ah, Madam, abolish the stove: believe me, there
is nothing like the good old open grate. Home! duty! happiness! they
all mean the same thing; and they all flourish best on the drawing-room
hearthrug. [Turning to Claire.] And now, my love, we must not detain the
Queen: she is anxious to inspect the model of her museum, to which I am
sure we wish every success.

CLAIRE [coldly]. I am not detaining her.

EDSTASTON. Well, goodbye [wringing Patiomkin's hand] goo-oo-oodbye,
Prince: come and see us if ever you visit England. Spire View, Deepdene,
Little Mugford, Devon, will always find me. [To Yarinka, kissing her
hand.] Goodbye, Mademoiselle: goodbye, Little Mother, if I may call you
that just once. [Varinka puts up her face to be kissed.] Eh? No, no, no,
no: you don't mean that, you know. Naughty! [To the Sergeant.] Goodbye,
my friend. You will drink our healths with this [tipping him].

THE SERGEANT. The blessed Nicholas will multiply your fruits, Little
Father.

EDSTASTON. Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.

He goes out backwards, bowing, with Claire curtseying, having been
listened to in utter dumbfoundedness by Patiomkin and Naryshkin, in
childlike awe by Yarinka, and with quite inexpressible feelings by
Catherine. When he is out of sight she rises with clinched fists and
raises her arms and her closed eyes to Heaven. Patiomkin: rousing
himself from his stupor of amazement, springs to her like a tiger, and
throws himself at her feet.

PATIOMKIN. What shall I do to him for you? Skin him alive? Cut off his
eyelids and stand him in the sun? Tear his tongue out? What shall it be?

CATHERINE [opening her eyes]. Nothing. But oh, if I could only have had
him for my--for my--for my--

PATIOMKIN [in a growl of jealousy]. For your lover?

CATHERINE [with an ineffable smile]. No: for my museum.