VARINKA. Pig. Ugh! [She curls herself up with a shiver of disgust and retires from the conversation.]
THE SERGEANT [stealing across to the coat, and picking it up to replace it on the back of the chair]. Little Father, the English captain, so highly recommended to you by old Fritz of Prussia, by the English ambassador, and by Monsieur Voltaire (whom [crossing himself] may God in his infinite mercy damn eternally!), is in the antechamber and desires audience.
PATIOMKIN [deliberately]. To hell with the English captain; and to hell with old Fritz of Prussia; and to hell with the English ambassador; and to hell with Monsieur Voltaire; and to hell with you too!
THE SERGEANT. Have mercy on me, Little Father. Your head is bad this morning. You drink too much French brandy and too little good Russian kvass.
PATIOMKIN [with sudden fury]. Why are visitors of consequence announced by a sergeant? [Springing at him and seizing him by the throat.] What do you mean by this, you hound? Do you want five thousand blows of the stick? Where is General Volkonsky?
THE SERGEANT [on his knees]. Little Father, you kicked his Highness downstairs.
PATIOMKIN [flinging him dawn and kicking him]. You lie, you dog.
You lie.
THE SERGEANT. Little Father, life is hard for the poor. If you say it is a lie, it is a lie. He FELL downstairs. I picked him up; and he kicked me. They all kick me when you kick them. God knows that is not just, Little Father!
PATIOMKIN [laughs ogreishly; then returns to his 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!
