FullReads

JEAN.
Drop the cage, I tell you! And don’t talk so loud–Christine can hear us.

JULIA.
No, I won’t let it fall into strange hands. I’d rather have you kill it!

JEAN.
Well, give it to me, and I’ll wring its neck.

JULIA.
Yes, but don’t hurt it. Don’t–no, I cannot!

JEAN.
Let me–I can!

JULIA.
[Takes the bird out of the cage and kisses it]

Oh, my little birdie, must it die and go away from its mistress!

JEAN.
Don’t make a scene, please. Don’t you know it’s a question of your life, of your future? Come, quick!

[Snatches the bird away from her, carries it to the chopping block and picks up an axe. MISS JULIA turns away.]

JEAN.
You should have learned how to kill chickens instead of shooting with a revolver–[brings down the axe]–then you wouldn’t have fainted for a drop of blood.

JULIA.
[Screaming]

Kill me too! Kill me! You who can take the life of an innocent creature without turning a hair! Oh, I hate and despise you! There is blood between us! Cursed be the hour when I first met you! Cursed be the hour when I came to life in my mother’s womb!

JEAN.
Well, what’s the use of all that cursing? Come on!

JULIA.
[Approaching the chopping-block as if drawn to it against her will]

No, I don’t want to go yet. I cannot—I must see–Hush! There’s a carriage coming up the road. [Listening without taking her eyes of the block and the axe] You think I cannot stand the sight of blood. You think I am as weak as that–oh, I should like to see your blood, your brains, on that block there. I should like to see your whole sex swimming in blood like that thing there. I think I could drink out of your skull, and bathe my feet in your open breast, and eat your heart from the spit!–You think I am weak; you think I love you because the fruit of my womb was yearning for your seed; you think I want to carry your offspring under my heart and nourish it with my blood–bear your children and take your name! Tell me, you, what are you called anyhow? I have never heard your family name—and maybe you haven’t any. I should become Mrs. “Hovel,” or Mrs. “Backyard”–you dog there, that’s wearing my collar; you lackey with my coat of arms on your buttons– and I should share with my cook, and be the rival of my own servant. Oh! Oh! Oh!–You think I am a coward and want to run away! No, now I’ll stay–and let the lightning strike! My father will come home–will find his chiffonier opened–the money gone! Then he’ll ring–twice for the valet–and then he’ll send for the sheriff–and then I shall tell everything! Everything! Oh, but it will be good to get an end to it–if it only be the end! And then his heart will break, and he dies!–So there will be an end to all of us–and all will be quiet–peace–eternal rest!–And then the coat of arms will be shattered on the coffin–and the count’s line will be wiped out–but the lackey’s line goes on in the orphan asylum–wins laurels in the gutter, and ends in jail.

JEAN.
There spoke the royal blood! Bravo, Miss Julia! Now you put the miller back in his sack!

[CHRISTINE enters dressed for church and carrying n hymn-book in her hand.]

JULIA.
[Hurries up to her and throws herself into her arms ax if seeking protection]

Help me, Christine! Help me against this man!

CHRISTINE.
[Unmoved and cold]