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 off. 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.