Great Catherine (Whom Glory Still Adores) | Page 8

place at the table,
chuckling]!!!
VARINKA. Savage! Boot! It is a disgrace. No wonder the French sneer
at us as barbarians.
THE SERGEANT [who has crept round the table to the screen, and
insinuated himself between Patiomkin's back and Varinka]. Do you
think the Prince will see the captain, little darling?

PATIOMKIN. He will not see any captain. Go to the devil!
THE SERGEANT. Be merciful, Little Father. God knows it is your
duty to see him! [To Varinka.] Intercede for him and for me, beautiful
little darling. He has given me a rouble.
PATIOMKIN. Oh, send him in, send him in; and stop pestering me.
Am I never to have a moment's peace?
The Sergeant salutes joyfully and hurries out, divining that Patiomkin
has intended to see the English captain all along, and has played this
comedy of fury and exhausted impatience to conceal his interest in the
visitor.
VARINKA. Have you no shame? You refuse to see the most exalted
persons. You kick princes and generals downstairs. And then you see
an English captain merely because he has given a rouble to that
common soldier. It is scandalous.
PATIOMKIN. Darling beloved, I am drunk; but I know what I am
doing. I wish to stand well with the English.
VARINKA. And you think you will impress an Englishman by
receiving him as you are now, half drunk?
PATIOMKIN [gravely]. It is true: the English despise men who cannot
drink. I must make myself wholly drunk [he takes a huge draught of
brandy.]
VARINKA. Sot!
The Sergeant returns ushering a handsome strongly built young English
officer in the uniform of a Light Dragoon. He is evidently on fairly
good terms with himself, and very sure of his social position. He
crosses the room to the end of the table opposite Patiomkin's, and
awaits the civilities of that statesman with confidence. The Sergeant
remains prudently at the door.
THE SERGEANT [paternally]. Little Father, this is the English captain,
so well recommended to her sacred Majesty the Empress. God knows,
he needs your countenance and protec-- [he vanishes precipitately,
seeing that Patiomkin is about to throw a bottle at him. The Captain
contemplates these preliminaries with astonishment, and with some
displeasure, which is not allayed when, Patiomkin, hardly
condescending to look at his visitor, of whom he nevertheless takes
stock with the corner of his one eye, says gruffly]. Well?
EDSTASTON. My name is Edstaston: Captain Edstaston of the Light

Dragoons. I have the honor to present to your Highness this letter from
the British ambassador, which will give you all necessary particulars.
[He hands Patiomkin the letter.]
PATIOMKIN [tearing it open and glancing at it for about a second].
What do you want?
EDSTASTON. The letter will explain to your Highness who I am.
PATIOMKIN. I don't want to know who you are. What do you want?
EDSTASTON. An audience of the Empress. [Patiomkin
contemptuously throws the letter aside. Edstaston adds hotly.] Also
some civility, if you please.
PATIOMKIN [with derision]. Ho!
VARINKA. My uncle is receiving you with unusual civility, Captain.
He has just kicked a general downstairs.
EDSTASTON. A Russian general, madam?
VARINKA. Of course.
EDSTASTON. I must allow myself to say, madam, that your uncle had
better not attempt to kick an English officer downstairs.
PATIOMKIN. You want me to kick you upstairs, eh? You want an
audience of the Empress.
EDSTASTON. I have said nothing about kicking, sir. If it comes to that,
my boots shall speak for me. Her Majesty has signified a desire to have
news of the rebellion in America. I have served against the rebels; and I
am instructed to place myself at the disposal of her Majesty, and to
describe the events of the war to her as an eye-witness, in a discreet and
agreeable manner.
PATIOMKIN. Psha! I know. You think if she once sets eyes on your
face and your uniform your fortune is made. You think that if she could
stand a man like me, with only one eye, and a cross eye at that, she
must fall down at your feet at first sight, eh?
EDSTASTON [shocked and indignant]. I think nothing of the sort; and
I'll trouble you not to repeat it. If I were a Russian subject and you
made such a boast about my queen, I'd strike you across the face with
my sword. [Patiomkin, with a yell of fury, rushes at him.] Hands off,
you swine! [As Patiomkin, towering over him, attempts to seize him by
the throat, Edstaston, who is a bit of a wrestler, adroitly backheels him.
He falls, amazed, on his back.]
VARINKA [rushing out]. Help! Call the guard! The Englishman is

murdering my uncle! Help! Help!
The guard and the Sergeant rush in. Edstaston draws a pair of small
pistols from his