The knock on the door banished his laziness, though by then, his women were in the process of getting up anyway.  He favored each one with a kiss or an embrace as he made his way to the door--he very nearly opened it before he had a robe on, which one of his girls reminded him of.  "A moment please," he called through the door in Russian as he clad himself.  Only once he was suitably covered did he open the door enough to see who it was.  "Ah, my lady Catalina.  How may I be of service?" he inquired; she would know (or ought to) that he meant nothing else by the phrase.