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?

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. [She rises and turns to the
courtiers.] And then, as if I cared! [She turns again to
Naryshkin.] You should know by this time that I am frank and
original in character, like an Englishman. [She walks about
restlessly.] No: what maddens me about all this ceremony is that
I am the only person in Russia who gets no fun out of my being
Empress. You all glory in me: you bask in my smiles: you get
titles and honors and favors from me: you are dazzled by my crown
and my robes: you feel splendid when you have been admitted