Useless to struggle. Come along, beautiful baby darling. Come to Little Mother. [He sings.]
- March him baby,
- Baby, baby,
- Lit-tle ba-by bumpkins.
VARINKA [joining in to the same doggerel in canon, a third above]. March him, baby, etc., etc.
EDSTASTON [trying to make himself heard]. No, no. This is carrying a joke too far. I must insist. Let me down! Hang it, will you let me down! Confound it! No, no. Stop playing the fool, will you? We don't understand this sort of thing in England. I shall be disgraced. Let me down.
CATHERINE [meanwhile]. What a horrible noise! Naryshkin, see what it is.
- Naryshkin goes to the door.
CATHERINE [listening]. That is Prince Patiomkin.
NARYSHKIN [calling from the door]. Little Mother, a stranger.
- Catherine plunges into bed again and covers herself up. Patiomkin, followed by Varinka, carries Edstaston in: dumps him down on the foot of the bed: and staggers past it to the cabinet door. Varinka joins the courtiers at the opposite side of the room. Catherine, blazing with wrath, pushes Edstaston off her bed on to the floor: gets out of bed: and turns on Patiomkin with so terrible an expression that all kneel down hastily except Edstaston, who is sprawling on the carpet in angry confusion.
CATHERINE. Patiomkin, how dare you? [Looking at Edstaston.] What is this?
PATIOMKIN [on his knees, tearfully]. I don't know. I am drunk. What is this, Varinka?
EDSTASTON [scrambling to his feet]. Madam, this drunken ruffian—
