(Catherine who has at this early hour made only a very perfunctory toilet, and wears a Bulgarian apron over a once brilliant, but now half worn out red dressing gown, and a colored handkerchief tied over her thick black hair, with Turkish slippers on her bare feet, comes from the house, looking astonishingly handsome and stately under all the circumstances. Louka goes into the house.)
CATHERINE.
My dear Paul, what a surprise for us. (She stoops over the back of his chair to kiss him.) Have they brought you fresh coffee?
PETKOFF.
Yes, Louka’s been looking after me. The war’s over. The treaty was signed three days ago at Bucharest; and the decree for our army to demobilize was issued yesterday.
CATHERINE.
(springing erect, with flashing eyes). The war over! Paul: have you let the Austrians force you to make peace?
PETKOFF.
(submissively). My dear: they didn’t consult me. What could I do? (She sits down and turns away from him.) But of course we saw to it that the treaty was an honorable one. It declares peace—
CATHERINE.
(outraged). Peace!
PETKOFF.
(appeasing her).—but not friendly relations: remember that. They wanted to put that in; but I insisted on its being struck out. What more could I do?
CATHERINE.
You could have annexed Servia and made Prince Alexander Emperor of the Balkans. That’s what I would have done.
PETKOFF.
I don’t doubt it in the least, my dear. But I should have had to subdue the whole Austrian Empire first; and that would have kept me too long away from you. I missed you greatly.
CATHERINE.
(relenting). Ah! (Stretches her hand affectionately across the table to squeeze his.)