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.