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