FullReads

JULIA.
Yes, but that means he has regard for those that are last.

CHRISTINE.
[Going right on]

–and it is easier for a camel to go through a needle’s eye than for a rich man to get into heaven. That’s the way it is, Miss Julia. Now I am going, however—alone— and as I pass by, I’ll tell the stableman not to let out the horses if anybody should like to get away before the count comes home. Good-bye!

[Goes out.]

JEAN.
Well, ain’t she a devil!–And all this for the sake of a finch!

JULIA.
[Apathetically]

Never mind the finch!–Can you see any way out of this, any way to end it?

JEAN.
[Ponders]

No!

JULIA.
What would you do in my place?

JEAN.
In your place? Let me see. As one of gentle birth, as a woman, as one who has–fallen. I don’t know–yes, I do know!

JULIA.
[Picking up the razor with a significant gesture]

Like this?

JEAN.
Yes!–But please observe that I myself wouldn’t do it, for there is a difference between us.

JULIA.
Because you are a man and I a woman? What is the difference?

JEAN.
It is the same–as–that between man and woman.

JULIA.
[With the razor in her hand]

I want to, but I cannot!–My father couldn’t either, that time he should have done it.

JEAN.
No, he should not have done it, for he had to get his revenge first.

JULIA.
And now it is my mother’s turn to revenge herself again, through me.

JEAN.
Have you not loved your father, Miss Julia?

JULIA.
Yes, immensely, but I must have hated him, too. I think I must have been doing so without being aware of it. But he was the one who reared me in contempt for my own sex–half woman and half man! Whose fault is it, this that has happened? My father’s–my mother’s–my own? My own? Why, I have nothing that is my own. I haven’t a thought that didn’t come from my father; not a passion that didn’t come from my mother; and now this last–this about all human creatures being equal–I got that from him, my fiance–whom I call a scoundrel for that reason! How can it be my own fault? To put the blame on Jesus, as Christine does–no, I am too proud for that, and know too much–thanks to my father’s teachings–And that about a rich person not getting into heaven, it’s just a lie, and Christine, who has money in the savings-bank, wouldn’t get in anyhow. Whose is the fault?–What does it matter whose it is? For just the same I am the one who must bear the guilt and the results–

JEAN.
Yes, but–

[Two sharp strokes are rung on the bell. MISS JULIA leaps to her feet. JEAN changes his coat.]

JEAN.
The count is back. Think if Christine–

[Goes to the speaking-tube, knocks on it, and listens.]

JULIA.
Now he has been to the chiffonier!

JEAN.
It is Jean, your lordship!

[Listening again, the spectators being unable to hear what the count says]
Yes, your lordship!

[Listening]
Yes, your lordship! At once! [Listening] In a minute, your lordship!

[Listening]
Yes, yes! In half an hour!

JULIA.
[With intense concern]

What did he say? Lord Jesus, what did he say?

JEAN.
He called for his boots and wanted his coffee in half an hour.

JULIA.
In half an hour then! Oh, I am so tired. I can’t do anything; can’t repent, can’t run away, can’t stay, can’t live— can’t die! Help me now! Command me, and I’ll obey you like a dog! Do me this last favour–save my honour, and save his name! You know what my will ought to do, and what it cannot do–now give me your will, and make me do it!