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