FullReads

JULIA.
Drink my health now!

[JEAN hesitates.]

JULIA.
Are you bashful–a big, grown-up man?

JEAN.
[Kneels with mock solemnity and raises his glass]

To the health of my liege lady!

JULIA.
Bravo!–And now you must also kiss my shoe in order to get it just right.

[JEAN hesitates a moment; then he takes hold of her foot and touches it lightly with his lips.]

JULIA.
Excellent! You should have been on the stage.

JEAN.
[Rising to his feet]

This won’t do any longer, Miss Julia. Somebody might see us.

JULIA.
What would that matter?

JEAN.
Oh, it would set the people talking–that’s all! And if you only knew how their tongues were wagging up there a while ago—

JULIA.
What did they have to say? Tell me–Sit down now!

JEAN.
[Sits down]

I don’t want to hurt you, but they were using expressions–which cast reflections of a kind that–oh, you know it yourself! You are not a child, and when a lady is seen alone with a man, drinking–no matter if he’s only a servant–and at night—then–

JULIA.
Then what? And besides, we are not alone. Isn’t Christine with us?

JEAN.
Yes–asleep!

JULIA.
Then I’ll wake her.

[Rising]
Christine, are you asleep?

CHRISTINE.
[In her sleep]

Blub-blub-blub-blub!

JULIA.
Christine!–Did you ever see such a sleeper.

CHRISTINE.
[In her sleep]

The count’s boots are polished–put on the coffee–yes, yes, yes–my-my–pooh!

JULIA.
[Pinches her nose]

Can’t you wake up?

JEAN.
[Sternly]

You shouldn’t bother those that sleep.

JULIA.
[Sharply]

What’s that?

JEAN.
One who has stood by the stove all day has a right to be tired at night. And sleep should be respected.

JULIA.
[Changing tone]

It is fine to think like that, and it does you honour–I thank you for it. [Gives JEAN her hand] Come now and pick some lilacs for me.

[During the following scene CHRISTINE wakes up. She moves as if still asleep and goes out to the right in order to go to bed.]

JEAN.
With you, Miss Julia?

JULIA.
With me!

JEAN.
But it won’t do! Absolutely not!

JULIA.
I can’t understand what you are thinking of. You couldn’t possibly imagine–

JEAN.
No, not I, but the people.

JULIA.
What? That I am fond of the valet?

JEAN.
I am not at all conceited, but such things have happened–and to the people nothing is sacred.

JULIA.
You are an aristocrat, I think.

JEAN.
Yes, I am.

JULIA.
And I am stepping down–

JEAN.
Take my advice, Miss Julia, don’t step down. Nobody will believe you did it on purpose. The people will always say that you fell down.

JULIA.
I think better of the people than you do. Come and see if I am not right. Come along! [She ogles him.]

JEAN.
You’re mighty queer, do you know!

JULIA.
Perhaps. But so are you. And for that matter, everything is queer. Life, men, everything–just a mush that floats on top of the water until it sinks, sinks down! I have a dream that comes back to me ever so often. And just now I am reminded of it. I have climbed to the top of a column and sit there without being able to tell how to get down again. I get dizzy when I look down, and I must get down, but I haven’t the courage to jump off. I cannot hold on, and I am longing to fall, and yet I don’t fall. But there will be no rest for me until I get down, no rest until I get down, down on the ground. And if I did reach the ground, I should want to get still further down, into the ground itself–Have you ever felt like that?