EDSTASTON. Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.
He goes out backwards, bowing, with Claire curtseying, having been listened to in utter dumbfoundedness by Patiomkin and Naryshkin, in childlike awe by Yarinka, and with quite inexpressible feelings by Catherine. When he is out of sight she rises with clinched fists and raises her arms and her closed eyes to Heaven. Patiomkin: rousing himself from his stupor of amazement, springs to her like a tiger, and throws himself at her feet.
PATIOMKIN. What shall I do to him for you? Skin him alive? Cut off his eyelids and stand him in the sun? Tear his tongue out? What shall it be?
CATHERINE [opening her eyes]. Nothing. But oh, if I could only have had him for my—for my—for my—
PATIOMKIN [in a growl of jealousy]. For your lover?
CATHERINE [with an ineffable smile]. No: for my museum.