John. Speaking frankly, and without meaning any offense, do you think it’s quite wise, Miss Julie, to dance twice in succession with the same gentleman, particularly as the people here are only too ready to draw all kinds of conclusions?
Julie. [Explodes.] What do you mean? What conclusion? What does the man mean?
John. [Evasively.] As you won’t understand me, Miss, I must express myself more clearly. It doesn’t look well to prefer one of your inferiors to others who expect the same exceptional honor.
Julie. Prefer? What idea is the man getting into his head? I am absolutely astonished. I, the mistress of the house, honor my servants’ dance with my presence, and if I actually want to dance I want to do it with a man who can steer, so that I haven’t got the bore of being laughed at.
John. I await your orders, miss; I am at your service.
Julie. [Softly.] Don’t talk now of orders, this evening we’re simply merry men and women at a revel, and we lay aside all rank. Give me your arm; don’t be uneasy, Christine, I’m not going to entice your treasure away from you.
[JOHN offers her his arm and leads her through the glass door. CHRISTINE alone. Faint violin music at some distance to schottische time. CHRISTINE keeps time with the music, clears the table where JOHN had been eating, washes the plate at the side-table, dries it and puts it in the cupboard. She then takes off her kitchen apron, takes a small mirror out of the table drawer, puts it opposite the basket of lilacs, lights a taper, heats a hairpin, with which she curls her front hair; then she goes to the glass door and washes, comes back to the table, finds the young lady’s handkerchief, which she has forgotten, takes it and smells it; she then pensively spreads it out, stretches it fiat’ and folds it in four. JOHN comes back alone through the glass door.]
John. Yes, she is mad, to dance like that; and everybody stands by the door and grins at her. What do you say about it, Christine?
Christine. Ah, it’s just her time, and then she always takes on so strange. But won’t you come now and dance with me?
John. You aren’t offended with me that I cut your last dance?
Christine. No, not the least bit; you know that well enough, and I know my place besides.
John. [Puts his hand, round her waist.] You’re a sensible girl, Christine, and you’d make an excellent housekeeper.
Julie. [Comes in through the glass door. She is disagreeably surprised. With forced humor.] Charming cavalier you are, to be sure, to run away from your partner.
John. On the contrary, Miss Julie, I’ve been hurrying all I know, as you see, to find the girl I left behind me.
Julie. Do you know, none of the others dance like you do. But why do you go about in livery on a holiday evening? Take it off at once.
John. In that case, miss, I must ask you to leave me for a moment, because my black coat hangs up here. [He goes with a corresponding gesture toward the right.]
Julie. Is he bashful on my account? Just about changing a coat! Is he going into his room and coming back again? So far as I am concerned he can stay here; I’ll turn round.
John. By your leave, miss. [He goes to the left, his arm is visible when he changes his coat.]
Julie. [To CHRISTINE.] I say, Christine, is John your sweetheart, that he’s so thick with you?
Christine. [Going, toward the fireplace.] My sweetheart? Yes, if you like. We call it that.
Julie. Call it?
Christine. Well, you yourself, Miss, had a sweetheart and
Julie. Yes, we were properly engaged.
Christine. But nothing at all came of it. [She sits down- and gradually goes to sleep.]
John. [In a black coat and with a black hat.]
Julie. Tres gentil, Monsieur Jean, tres gentil!
John. Vous voulez plaisanter, madame!
Julie. Et vous voulez parler français? And where did you pick that up?
John. In Switzerland, when I was a waiter in one of the best hotels in Lucerne.
Julie. But you look quite like a gentleman in that coat. Charming. [She sits down on the right, by the table.]
John. Ah! you’re flattering me.
Julie. [Offended.] Flatter? You?
John. My natural modesty won’t allow me to imagine that you’re paying true compliments to a man like me, so I took the liberty of supposing that you’re exaggerating or, in a manner of speaking, flattering.
Julie. Where did you learn to string your words together like that? You must have been to the theater a great deal?
John. Quite right. I’ve been to no end of places.
Julie. But you were born here in this neighborhood.
John. My father was odd man to the State attorney of this parish, and I saw you, Miss, when you were a child, although you didn’t notice me.
Julie. Really?
John. Yes, and I remember one incident in particular. Um, yes—I mustn’t speak about that.
Julie. Oh, yes—you tell me. What? Just to please me.
John. No, really I can’t now. Perhaps some other time.
Julie. Some other time means never. Come, is it then so dangerous to tell me now?
John. It’s not dangerous, but it’s much best to leave it alone. Just look at her over there. [He points to CHRISTINE, who has gone to sleep in a chair by the fireplace.]
Julie. She’ll make a cheerful wife. Perhaps she snores as well.
John. She doesn’t do that—she speaks in her sleep.
Julie. How do you know that she speaks in her sleep?
John. I’ve heard it. [Pause—in which they look at each other.]
Julie. Why don’t you sit down?
John. I shouldn’t take such a liberty in your presence.
Julie. And if I older you to—
John. Then I obey.
Julie. Sit down, but, wait a moment, can’t you give me something to drink?
John. I don’t know what’s in the refrigerator. I don’t think there’s anything except beer.
Julie. That’s not to be sniffed at. Personally I’m so simple in my tastes that I prefer it to wine.
John. [Takes a bottle out of the refrigerator and draws the cork; he looks in the cupboard for a glass and plate, on which he serves the beer.] May I offer you some?
Julie. Thanks. Won’t you have some as well?
John. I’m not what you might call keen on beer, but if you order me, Miss
Julie. Order? It seems to me that as a courteous cavalier you might keep your partner company.
John. A very sound observation. [He opens another bottle and takes a glass.]
Julie. Drink my health! [JOHN hesitates.] I believe the old duffer is bashful.
John. [On his knees, mock heroically, lifts up his glass.] The health of my mistress!
Julie. Bravo! Now, as a finishing touch, you must kiss my shoe. [JOHN hesitates, then catches sharply hold of her foot and kisses it lightly.] First rate! You should have gone on the stage.