Naryshkin. These relics of barbarism are buried, thank God, in
the grave of Peter the Great. My methods are more civilized. [She
extends her toe towards Edstaston's ribs.]

EDSTASTON [shrieking hysterically]. Yagh! Ah! [Furiously.] If
your Majesty does that again I will write to the London Gazette.

CATHERINE [to the soldiers]. Leave us. Quick! do you hear? Five
thousand blows of the stick for the soldier who is in the room
when I speak next. [The soldiers rush out.] Naryshkin: are you
waiting to be knouted? [Naryshkin backs out hastily.]

Catherine and Edstaston are now alone. Catherine has in her hand
a sceptre or baton of gold. Wrapped round it is a new pamphlet,
in French, entitled L'Homme aux Quarante Ecus. She calmly unrolls
this and begins to read it at her ease as if she were quite
alone. Several seconds elapse in dead silence. She becomes more
and more absorbed in the pamphlet, and more and more amused by
it.

CATHERINE [greatly pleased by a passage, and turning over the
leaf]]. Ausgezeiehnet!

EDSTASTON. Ahem!

Silence. Catherine reads on.

CATHERINE. Wie komisch!

EDSTASTON. Ahem! ahem!