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 to my presence; and when I
say a gracious word to you, you talk about it to everyone you meet for
a week afterwards. But what do I get out of it? Nothing. [She throws
herself into the chair. Naryshkin deprecates with a gesture; she hurls
an emphatic repetition at him.] Nothing!! I wear a crown until my neck
aches: I stand looking majestic until I am ready to drop: I have to
smile at ugly old ambassadors and frown and turn my back on young and
handsome on