John. [Gets up.] This kind of thing mustn’t go any further, Miss. Anybody might come in and see us.
Julie. What would it matter?
John. People would talk, and make no bones about what they said either, and if you knew, Miss, how their tongues have already been wagging, then
Julie. What did they say then? Tell me, but sit down.
John. [Sits down.] I don’t want to hurt you, but you made use of expressions—which pointed to innuendoes of such a kind—yes, you’ll understand this perfectly well yourself. You’re not a child any more, and, if a lady is seen to drink alone with a man—even if it’s only a servant, tête-à-tête at night—then—
Julie. What then? And, besides, we’re not alone: Christine is here.
John. Yes, asleep.
Julie. Then I’ll wake her up. [She gets up.] Christ tine, are you asleep?
Christine. [In her sleep.] Bla—bla—bla—bla.
Julie. Christine! The woman can go on sleeping.
Christine. [In her sleep.] The Count’s boots are already done—put the coffee out—at once, at once, at once—oh, oh—ah!
Julie. [Takes hold of her by the nose.] Wake up, will you?
John. [Harshly.] You mustn’t disturb a person who’s asleep.
Julie. [Sharply.] What?
John. A person who’s been on her legs all day by the fireplace will naturally be tired when night comes; and sleep should be respected.
Julie. [In another tone.] That’s a pretty thought. and does you credit—thank you. [She holds her hand out to JOHN.] Come out now and pick some clover for me. [During the subsequent dialogue CHRISTINE wakes up, and exit in a dosed condition to the right, to go to bed.]
John. With you, Miss?
Julie. With me?
John. It’s impossible, absolutely impossible.
Julie. I don’t understand what you mean. Can it be possible that you imagine such a thing for a single minute.
John. Me—no, but the people—yes.
Julie. What! That I should be in love with a servant?
John. I’m not by any means an educated man, but there have been cases, and nothing is sacred to the people.
Julie. I do believe the man is an aristocrat.
John. Yes, that I am.
Julie. And I’m on the down path.
John. Don’t go down, Miss. Take my advice, nobody will believe that you went down of your own free will. People will always say you fell.
Julie. I have a better opinion of people than you have. Come and try. Come. [She challenges him with her eyes.]
John. You are strange, you know.
Julie. Perhaps I am, but so are you. Besides, everything is strange. Life, men, the whole thing is simply an iceberg which is driven out on the water until it sinks—sinks. I have a dream which comes up now and again, and now it haunts me. I am sitting on the top of a high pillar and can’t see any possibility of getting down, I feel dizzy when I look down, but I have to get down all the same. I haven’t got the pluck to throw myself off. I can’t keep my balance and I want to fall over, but I don’t fall. And I don’t get a moment’s peace until I’m down below. No rest until I’ve got to the ground, and when I’ve got down to the ground I want to get right into the earth. Have you ever felt anything like that?
John. No; I usually dream I’m lying under a high tree in a gloomy forest. I want to get up right to the top and look round at the light landscape where the sun shines, and plunder the birds’ nests where the golden eggs lie, and I climb and climb, but the trunk is so thick and so smooth, and it’s such a long way to the first branch; but I know, if only I can get to the first branch, I can climb to the top, as though it were a ladder. I haven’t got there yet, but I must get there, even though it were only in my dreams.
Julie. And here I am now standing chattering to you. Come along now, just out into the park. [She offers him her arm and they go.]
John. We must sleep to-night on nine Midsummer Night herbs, then our dreams will come true. [Both turn round in the doorway. JOHN holds his hand before one of his eyes.]
Julie. Let me see what’s got Into your eye.
John. Oh, nothing, only a bit of dust—it’ll be all right in a minute.
Julie. It was the sleeve of my dress that grazed you. Just sit down and I’ll help you get it out. [She takes him by the arm and makes him sit down on the table. She then takes his head and presses it down, and tries to get the dust out with the corner of her handkerchief.] Be quite still, quite still! [She strikes him on the hand.] There! Will he be obedient now? I do believe the great strong man’s trembling. [She feels his arm.] With arms like that!
John. [Warningly.] Miss Julie
Julie. Yes, Monsieur Jean.
John. Attention! Je ne suis qu’un homme!
Julie. Won’t he sit still? See! It’s out now! Let him kiss my hand and thank me.
John. [Stands up.] Miss Julie, listen to me. Christine has cleared out and gone to bed. Won’t you listen to me?
Julie. Kiss my hand first.
John. Listen to me.
Julie. Kiss my hand first.
John. All right, but you must be responsible for the consequences.
Julie. What consequences?
John. What consequences? Don’t you know it’s dangerous to play with fire?
Julie. Not for me. I am insured!
John. [Sharply.] No, you’re not! And even if you were there’s inflammable material pretty close.
Julie. Do you mean yourself?
John. Yes. Not that I’m particularly dangerous, but I’m just a young man!
Julie. With an excellent appearance—what incredible vanity! Don Juan, I suppose, or a Joseph. I believe, on my honor, the man’s a Joseph!
John. Do you believe that?
Julie. I almost fear it. [JOHN goes brutally toward and tries to embrace her, so as to kiss her. JULIE boxes his ears.] Hands off.
John. Are you serious or joking?
Julie. Serious.
John. In that case, what took place before was also serious. You’re taking the game much too seriously, and and that’s dangerous. But I’m tired of the game now, so would you please excuse me so that I can go back to my work? [He goes to the back of the stage, to the boots.] The Count must have his boots early, and midnight is long past. [He takes up the boots.]
Julie. Leave the boots alone.
John. No. It’s my duty, and I’m bound to do it, but I didn’t take on the job of being your playmate. Besides, the thing is out of the question, as I consider myself much too good for that kind of thing.
Julie. You’re proud.
John. In some cases, not in others.
Julie. Have you ever loved?
John. We people don’t use that word. But I’ve liked many girls, and once it made me quite ill not to be able to get the girl I wanted, as ill, mind you, as the princes in “The Arabian Nights,” who are unable to eat or drink out of pure love. [He takes up the boots again.]