, if---

CHRISTINE. Yes, but you don't get it without the special grace of
God, and that is not bestowed on everybody--

JULIA. On whom is it bestowed then?

CHRISTINE. That's just the great secret of the work of grace, Miss
Julia, and the Lord has no regard for persons, but there those that
are last shall be the foremost--

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--An