Great Catherine (Whom Glory Still Adores) Part 9

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 s.n.a.t.c.hes 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 pa.s.ses 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. G.o.d 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. G.o.d 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.]