PAGE 16
Miss Julia: A Naturalistic Tragedy
by
JEAN.
No, my dream is that I am lying under a tall tree in a dark wood. I want to get up, up to the top, so that I can look out over the smiling landscape, where the sun is shining, and so that I can rob the nest in which lie the golden eggs. And I climb and climb, but the trunk is so thick and smooth, and it is so far to the first branch. But I know that if I could only reach that first branch, then I should go right on to the top as on a ladder. I have not reached it yet, but I am going to, if it only be in my dreams.
JULIA.
Here I am chattering to you about dreams! Come along! Only into the park! [She offers her arm to him, and they go toward the door.]
JEAN.
We must sleep on nine midsummer flowers to-night, Miss Julia— then our dreams will come true.
[They turn around in the doorway, and JEAN puts one hand up to his eyes.]
JULIA.
Let me see what you have got in your eye.
JEAN.
Oh, nothing–just some dirt–it will soon be gone.
JULIA.
It was my sleeve that rubbed against it. Sit down and let me help you. [Takes him by the arm and makes him sit down; takes hold of his head and bends it backwards; tries to get out the dirt with a corner of her handkerchief] Sit still now, absolutely still! [Slaps him on the hand] Well, can’t you do as I say? I think you are shaking—a big, strong fellow like you! [Feels his biceps] And with such arms!
JEAN.
[Ominously]
Miss Julia!
JULIA.
Yes, Monsieur Jean.
JEAN.
Attention! Je ne suis qu’un homme.
JULIA.
Can’t you sit still!–There now! Now it’s gone. Kiss my hand now, and thank me.
JEAN.
[Rising]
Miss Julia, listen to me. Christine has gone to bed now–Won’t you listen to me?
JULIA.
Kiss my hand first.
JEAN.
Listen to me!
JULIA.
Kiss my hand first!
JEAN.
All right, but blame nobody but yourself!
JULIA.
For what?
JEAN.
For what? Are you still a mere child at twenty-five? Don’t you know that it is dangerous to play with fire?
JULIA.
Not for me. I am insured.
JEAN.
[Boldly]
No, you are not. And even if you were, there are inflammable surroundings to be counted with.
JULIA.
That’s you, I suppose?
JEAN.
Yes. Not because I am I, but because I am a young man–
JULIA.
Of handsome appearance–what an incredible conceit! A Don Juan, perhaps. Or a Joseph? On my soul, I think you are a Joseph!
JEAN.
Do you?
JULIA.
I fear it almost.
[JEAN goes boldly up to her and takes her around the waist in order to kiss her.]
JULIA.
[Gives him a cuff on the ear]
Shame!
JEAN.
Was that in play or in earnest?
JULIA.
In earnest.
JEAN.
Then you were in earnest a moment ago also. Your playing is too serious, and that’s the dangerous thing about it. Now I am tired of playing, and I ask to be excused in order to resume my work. The count wants his boots to be ready for him, and it is after midnight already.