Great Catherine: The Third Scene

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.

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