The Rise of Catherine the Great Page #6

- I do.

Right. And you want to

divorce your husband?

- Yes, I do.

- Right.

We'll choose another wife for you...

the Mecklenburg girl or the Oldenburg woman.

- Right?

- Right.

- And you will go back to your mother, right?

- Right.

I'll settle the matter as soon as possible.

In the meantime, no scandal.

You will both behave

as if nothing had happened.

You'll hear my further decisions later.

Thank you.

- Shall we go?

- Right.

You know, I'm beginning to like you

now that I don't have to.

I always felt you could be very charming

if one weren't married to you.

- Good-bye.

- Good-bye.

Oh, um, your rooms...

Y-You find them nice and comfortable?

Yes, my rooms are charming.

Good-bye.

Have a good time.

- Good time?

- Yes.

I saw your carriage waiting.

Who is the reason tonight?

Anna Talitzyn.

The most charming woman

in Petersburg.

And you?

Opera with Borodin.

The most disgusting fellow

in Petersburg.

Tastes differ. Good-bye.

Good-bye. Oh, wait!

Uh, little Catherine.

Why not...

Why not dine with me?

Oh, what a gorgeous idea.

Lecocq!

Lecocq. Lecocq, s-send a message

to the Princess Talitzyn.

Tell her I can't come along tonight

because... because...

Well, you always know what to say.

Yes, and another message to Lieutenant Borodin

with my deepest regrets.

Very well, Your Highness.

Dinner tonight will be served

in the blue room.

- Blue room?

- Next to Her Highness's bedroom.

Maitre Duval!

The dinner tonight should be light.

Oh, bubbling,

not... not a family affair...

but sufficient

for the first stages of a...

You know what I mean.

And the wine, Tokay, of a vintage

to make up a woman's mind.

- Pom!

- Pom! Yes.

- Two footmen?

- No, myself alone.

There are circumstances

that call for a... Frenchman.

No, quite seriously. You ought

to marry that Mecklenburg girl.

She's really lovely!

Honey-colored hair

down to her knees...

and a skin like cream and roses.

I thought you told me

she had a cavalry mustache.

Oh, no. No!

Just a teeny, tiny little suspicion

of a mustache.

Oh, charming!

Men adore it, really!

Uh, by the way, who was the first?

- First what?

- First lover?

- Mine?

- Yes, yours.

Narishkin.

- When was that?

- Let me see.

It was, um, 1 0th of March.

- Where?

- In Peterhof, in spring.

The trees were all in bud.

You were in Moscow...

with the Italian opera singer.

Narishkin taught me to ride.

That evening we sat for hours

in front of the fire...

reading Voltaire.

- And then?

- Well...

One gets tired of reading.

And how long did that last?

Until May,

when we went back to Moscow.

- And in Moscow you met the second.

- Mm-hmm.

- Who was it?

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