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?
NARYSHKIN. Exactly. Also because if they didn't you might have
them flogged, dear Little Mother.
CATHERINE [springing energetically out of bed and seating herself
on the edge of it]. Flogged! I! A Liberal Empress! A philosopher!
You are a barbarian, Naryshkin.
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