NARYSHKIN [s.n.a.t.c.hing 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. G.o.d 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. G.o.d 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 sn.o.bbery]. 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 bra.s.s 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, d.a.m.n your eyes!
NARYSHKIN [frightened]. Oh, I a.s.sure 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: d.a.m.n 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 a.s.sent.]
Naryshkin pa.s.ses 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 m.u.f.fled 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!