VARINKA [taking his other arm]. Yes, yes, yes. Little English Father: God knows it is your duty to be brave and wait on the Empress. Come. EDSTASTON. No. I had rather-- PATIOMKIN [hauling him along]. Come. VARINKA [pulling him and coaxing him]. Come, little love: you can't refuse me. EDSTASTON. But how can I? PATIOMKIN. Why not? She won't eat you. VARINKA. She will; but you must come. EDSTASTON. I assure you--it is quite out of the question--my clothes-- VARINKA. You look perfect. PATIOMKIN. Come along, darling. EDSTASTON [struggling]. Impossible-- VARINKA. Come, come, come. EDSTASTON. No. Believe me--I don't wish--I-- VARINKA. Carry him, uncle. PATIOMKIN [lifting him in his arms like a father carrying a little boy]. Yes: I'll carry you. EDSTASTON. Dash it all, this is ridiculous! VARINKA [seizing his ankles and dancing as he is carried out]. You must come. If you kick you will blacken my eyes. PATIOMKIN. Come, baby, come. By this time they have made their way through the door and are out of hearing. THE SECOND SCENE The Empress's petit lever. The central doors are closed. Those who enter through them find on their left, on a dais of two broad steps, a magnificent curtained bed. Beyond it a door in the panelling leads to the Empress's cabinet. Near the foot of the bed, in the middle of the room, stands a gilt chair, with the Imperial arms carved and the Imperial monogram embroidered. The Court is in attendance, standing in two melancholy rows down the side of the room opposite to the bed, solemn, bored, waiting for the Empress to awaken. The Princess Dashkoff, with two ladies, stands a little in front of the line of courtiers, by the Imperial chair. Silence, broken only by the yawns and whispers of the courtiers. Naryshkin, the Chamberlain, stands by the head of the bed. A loud yawn is heard from behind the curtains. NARYSHKIN [holding up a warning hand]. Ssh! The courtiers hastily cease whispering: dress up their lines: and stiffen. Dead silence. A bell tinkles within the curtains. Naryshkin and the Princess solemnly draw them and reveal the Empress. Catherine turns over on her back, and stretches herself. CATHERINE [yawning]. Heigho--ah--yah--ah--ow--what o'clock is it? [Her accent is German.] NARYSHKIN [formally]. Her Imperial Majesty is awake. [The Court falls on its knees.] ALL. Good morning to your Majesty. NARYSHKIN. Half-past ten, Little Mother. CATHERINE [sitting up abruptly]. Potztausend! [Contemplating the kneeling courtiers.] Oh, get up, get up. [All rise.] Your etiquette bores me. I am hardly awake in the morning before it begins. [Yawning again, and relapsing sleepily against her pillows.] Why do they do it, Naryshkin? NARYSHKIN. God knows it is not for your sake, Little Mother. But you see if you were not a great queen they would all be nobodies. CATHERINE [sitting up]. They make me do it to keep up their own little dignities? So?