Scene 3: The Billiards Room of a Moscow mansion
Bourgogne, Legrand, Boquet are stretched on animal skins, wearing turbans, drinking & smoking magnificent pipes
Bourgogne, Legrand, Boquet, Graingier, Leboude
{singing in a round}
We are resting in bubble beds of silk furs & feathers
In the nest of the double-headed eagles
We are blest with abundance & the punch does us wonders
As a guest of the double-headed eagle
Enter Rossi, the quartermaster
Rossi
I have prepared a dazzling punch for you
Graingier
Good man Rossi, quartermaster supreme
Rossi
What a sight you forge, like Turkish pashas
Discussing each other’s seraglios
& the passionate merits of your wives
Legrand
At this moment in time I’d take just one,
& ermine call her, skin soft as this fur
Boqet
Mine would be lion,
Bourgogne
Mine sable
Leboude
Mine fox
Graingier
& mine some buxom Siberian bear
Rossi
While you laugh & drink & smoke til you burst
I’ve been all-a-foraging, high & low
Up attics, down cellars, whose keeps disclosed
Rum from Jamaica, most excellent beer
Deep pack’d in ice to keep summer’s fresh
A drop of which ferments this punch newmade,
Its gusto an enthusiast should charm,
Come try a ladle’s worth
Graingier
Quite wonderful!
Leboude
No, not for me, I’ve had my fill of drink
Bourgogne
Then I’ll have his… that kicks like angry mule!
Enter Mother Dubois
Dubois
O what it is to be Cantiniere
To such an idle company as this
Legrand
But you love us Mother Dubois
Dubois
I did
When you were gallant, not lazy sultans
Boqet
What do you cook us today
Dubois
A little
Salted fish sauted in suet butter
& half a ham for supper if you please
Boqet
Such is the conqueror’s prerogative
To regally banquet in royal garb
To dinner as a Duke, & then return
To all the adulations in the town
Aline processions home, where glory waits
Graingier
There is a rumour rife among the ranks
That spitesBritain’s Continental blockade
We are to go to China, there ensure
Transglobal trade for eagle-soaring France
Leboude
A few more thousand leages then, Graingier
Bourgogne
All I would need is a new pair of shoes
Boquet
But first we winter in this queenless hive
Where once a beekeper’s tap on the wall
Responded by unanimous humming
Of bees in tens of thousands, such a buzz;
But now, if he would open up the hive
Instead of serried rows aseal each gap
Just complex combs neglected, sickly frail
In the corners old bees languidly fight,
Clean themselves, or feed one another
Unknowing why they do these deeds at all
For in this Hive’s heart, that once was so grand,
The high mystery of generation
Reduced to sleeping shells of listless bees,
Reeking of death, a few move feebly still
Dragging blunt stingers uselessly behind
Enter Foucart & two young Russian women – Valentina & Natasha – carrying bundles of clothes
Foucart
Boys, boys, my treasures are most splendid, look!
Legrand
How lucky you for two, you’ll be sharing
Foucart
Not these young haberdasher maids made mine
For six months service, no, but what they bare
The emboss’d costumes of many nations
Mens & womens, look, there are French dresses,
Fashion’d to favour Louis the Sixteenth
Dubois
& even a basket of wigs I see
I say lets shake a make-up & then dance
The party begin to dress up – Dubois becomes a French marquise, Valentina & Natasha become brides of Christ – One of the soldiers accompanies the revelry on his flute, another on a drum
***
PARISIENNE SKIES
We will be going to the ball,
We’ll be rolling round the punch bowl
Drinking ambrosia
We shall be quaffing at the ball
We’ll be falling down, stand up again,
Cheeks turn’d rosier
Then when you see stardust come a tumbling down
On the dance floor, she’s a ballerina
Go, to Nepal, to Provence, go to Delhi
New York & Singapore, Berlin & Rome
Feel if its right then decide if Parisienne Skies
Were sent from on high to service our souls
There’s summer inside those cinnamon skies
Which sum up my soul
We shall be dancing at the ball,
We’ll be rolling round the dance floor
Kicking like stallions
We shall be trailing round the ball
We’ll be hail’d by all, regaling,
Sailing like galleons
Then when you see stardust come a tumbling down
On the dance floor, shes a ballerina
Go, to Milan, Budapest & Vienna
Dublin & Amsterdam, Tokyo too
Feel if its right then decide if the houses that rise
On Parisienne Skies were sent for our souls
There’s summer inside those cinnamon skies
Which sum up my soul
I heard that life is for living
Laughing & loving & finding the time
To graze on new pastures
Velvet horizons rise up in your mind
Tho’ I’m full of the wanderlust
Why don’t you come home with me
We could go touring the old arrondissiments
Of the empire pearl, Paris
So beautiful
She’s so beautiful…
***
Dubois
{drunk}
Temperance & Prudence, Lord, my guides be
Leboude
A march, strike the drum, my soldiers… at arms!
{the drummer starts a march}
*******
ON VA LEUR PERCER LE FLANC
As the soldiers are marching Valentina & Natasha begin to dance quiet energetically, jumping like tartars, flying left to right, swinging arms & legs, falling backwards then getting back up again & redoubling the energy of their efforts, much to the amusement of the party
On va leur percer le flanc
Rantanplan tire lire lan
Ah! ce qu’on va rire!
Rantanplan tire lire
On va leur percer le flanc
Rantanplan tire lire lan.
Le petit tondu sera content
Rantanplan tire lire lan
Ca lui f’ra bien plaisir
Rantanplan tire lire
On va leur percer le flanc
Rantanplan tire lire lan.
Car c’est de là que dépend
Rantanplan tire lire lan
Le salut de l’Empire
Rantanplan tire lire
On va leur percer le flanc
Rantanplan tire lire lan.
***
Enter Captain Vachain / he fires his musket to halt the party / Valentina throws her arms around his neck & kisses him
Vachain
Get off me at once – in the name of God
What is happening, have you all gone mad
Leboude
We were just having a party, Captain
Vachain
Well halt at once, turn sober by the morn
The Emperor orders an inspection
Of the entire army, we its best troops
Apparently, I see such praise a sham
Leboude
Of course sir, company, to attention
Some of the soldiers attempt to stand, but are too drunk
Vachain
I cannot guess how we conquer’d Moscow!
I’ll be back at Dawn, & Madame Dubois
Dubois
Yes Captain Vachain, sir
Vachain
No alcohol
Is to be serv’d at the breakfast
Dubois
Yes sir
Exit Vauchain, the party burst into laughter
Boquet
You heard him lads, drink up your dregs, then shave
We’d hardly want the Emperor’s dispraise
The party begin to tidy up in a state of semi-revelry
The Conchordia Folio 