last time: what do you mean? Am I to weep? Am I to
jump over your whip? Am I to kiss you, and lure you down to Lake
Como for three weeks, and so on? What am I to do? What do you
expect? This is getting to be rather painful! But that's what comes
from getting mixed up with women. Miss Julia! I see that you are
unhappy; I know that you are suffering; but I cannot understand
you. We never carry on like that. There is never any hatred between
us. Love is to us a play, and we play at it when our work leaves us
time to do so. But we have not the time to do so all day and all
night, as you have. I believe you are sick--I am sure you are sick.

JULIA. You should be good to me--and now you speak like a human
being.

JEAN. All right, but be human yourself. You spit on me, and then
you won't let me wipe myself--on you!

JULIA. Help me, help me! Tell me only what I am to do--where I am
to turn?

JEAN. O Lord, if I only knew that myself!

JULIA. I have been exasperated, I have been mad, but there ought to
be some way of saving myself.

JEAN. Stay right here and keep quiet. Nobody knows anything.

JULIA. Impossible! The people know, and Christine knows.

JEAN. They don't know, and they would never believe it possible.

JULIA. [Hesitating] But-it might happen again.

JEAN. That's true.

JULIA. And the results?

JEAN. [Frightened] The results! Where was my head when I didn't
think of that! Well, then there is only one thing to do--you must
leave. At once! I can't go with you, for then everything would be
lost, so you must go alone--abroad--anywhere!

JULIA. Alone? Where?--I can't do it.

JEAN. You must! And before the count gets back. If you stay, then
you know what will happen. Once on the wrong path, one wants to
keep on, as the harm is done anyhow. Then one grows more and more
reckless--and at last it all comes out. So you must get away! Then
you can write to the count and tell him everything, except that it
was me. And he would never guess it. Nor do I think he would be
very anxious to find out.

JULIA. I'll go if you come with me.

JEAN. Are you stark mad, woman? Miss Julia to run away with her
valet! It would be in the papers in another day, and the count
could never survive it.

JULIA. I can't leave! I can't stay! Help me! I am so tired, so
fearfully tired. Give me orders! Set me going, for I can no longer
think, no longer act---

JEAN. Do you see now what good-for-nothings you are! Why do you
strut an