Part 9
JEAN. [Insolently] I have heard it.
[Pause during which they study each other.]
JULIA. Why don't you sit down?
JEAN. It wouldn't be proper in your presence.
JULIA. But if I order you to do it?
JEAN. Then I obey.
JULIA. Sit down, then!--But wait a moment! Can you give me something to drink first?
JEAN. I don't know what we have got in the icebox. I fear it is nothing but beer.
JULIA. And you call that nothing? My taste is so simple that I prefer it to wine.
JEAN. [Takes a bottle of beer from the icebox and opens it; gets a glass and a plate from the cupboard, and serves the beer] Allow me!
JULIA. Thank you. Don't you want some yourself?
JEAN. I don't care very much for beer, but if it is a command, of course--
JULIA. Command?--I should think a polite gentleman might keep his lady company.
JEAN. Yes, that's the way it should be. [Opens another bottle and takes out a glass.]
JULIA. Drink my health now!
[JEAN hesitates.]
JULIA. Are you bashful--a big, grown-up man?
JEAN. [Kneels with mock solemnity and raises his glass] To the health of my liege lady!
JULIA. Bravo!--And now you must also kiss my shoe in order to get it just right.
[JEAN hesitates a moment; then he takes hold of her foot and touches it lightly with his lips.]
JULIA. Excellent! You should have been on the stage.
JEAN. [Rising to his feet] This won't do any longer, Miss Julia. Somebody might see us.
JULIA. What would that matter?
JEAN. Oh, it would set the people talking--that's all! And if you only knew how their tongues were wagging up there a while ago—-
JULIA. What did they have to say? Tell me--Sit down now!
JEAN. [Sits down] I don't want to hurt you, but they were using expressions--which cast reflections of a kind that--oh, you know it yourself! You are not a child, and when a lady is seen alone with a man, drinking--no matter if he's only a servant--and at night-—then--
JULIA. Then what? And besides, we are not alone. Isn't Christine with us?
JEAN. Yes--asleep!
JULIA. Then I'll wake her. [Rising] Christine, are you asleep?
CHRISTINE. [In her sleep] Blub-blub-blub-blub!
JULIA. Christine!--Did you ever see such a sleeper.
CHRISTINE. [In her sleep] The count's boots are polished--put on the coffee--yes, yes, yes--my-my--pooh!
JULIA. [Pinches her nose] Can't you wake up?
JEAN. [Sternly] You shouldn't bother those that sleep.
JULIA. [Sharply] What's that?
JEAN. One who has stood by the stove all day has a right to be tired at night. And sleep should be respected.
JULIA. [Changing tone] It is fine to think like that, and it does you honour--I thank you for it. [Gives JEAN her hand] Come now and pick some lilacs for me.
[During the following scene CHRISTINE wakes up. She moves as if still asleep and goes out to the right in order to go to bed.]
JEAN. With you, Miss Julia?
JULIA. With me!
JEAN. But it won't do! Absolutely not!
JULIA. I can't understand what you are thinking of. You couldn't possibly imagine--
JEAN. No, not I, but the people.
JULIA. What? That I am fond of the valet?
JEAN. I am not at all conceited, but such things have happened--and to the people nothing is sacred.
JULIA. You are an aristocrat, I think.
JEAN. Yes, I am.
JULIA. And I am stepping down--
JEAN. Take my advice, Miss Julia, don't step down. Nobody will believe you did it on purpose. The people will always say that you fell down.
JULIA. I think better of the people than you do. Come and see if I am not right. Come along! [She ogles him.]
JEAN. You're mighty queer, do you know!
JULIA. Perhaps. But so are you. And for that matter, everything is queer. Life, men, everything--just a mush that floats on top of the water until it sinks, sinks down! I have a dream that comes back to me ever so often. And just now I am reminded of it. I have climbed to the top of a column and sit there without being able to tell how to get down again. I get dizzy when I look down, and I must get down, but I haven't the courage to jump off. I cannot hold on, and I am longing to fall, and yet I don't fall. But there will be no rest for me until I get down, no rest until I get down, down on the ground. And if I did reach the ground, I should want to get still further down, into the ground itself--Have you ever felt like that?
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.
JULIA. Put away the boots.
JEAN. No, it's my work, which I am bound to do. But I have not undertaken to be your playmate. It's something I can never become—- I hold myself too good for it.
JULIA. You're proud!
JEAN. In some ways, and not in others.
JULIA. Have you ever been in love?
JEAN. We don't use that word. But I have been fond of a lot of girls, and once I was taken sick because I couldn't have the one I wanted: sick, you know, like those princes in the Arabian Nights who cannot eat or drink for sheer love.
JULIA. Who was it?
[JEAN remains silent.]
JULIA. Who was it?
JEAN. You cannot make me tell you.
JULIA. If I ask you as an equal, ask you as--a friend: who was it?
JEAN. It was you.
JULIA. [Sits down] How funny!
JEAN. Yes, as you say--it was ludicrous. That was the story, you see, which I didn't want to tell you a while ago. But now I am going to tell it. Do you know how the world looks from below--no, you don't. No more than do hawks and falcons, of whom we never see the back because they are always floating about high up in the sky. I lived in the cotter's hovel, together with seven other children, and a pig--out there on the grey plain, where there isn't a single tree. But from our windows I could see the wall around the count's park, and apple-trees above it. That was the Garden of Eden, and many fierce angels were guarding it with flaming swords. Nevertheless I and some other boys found our way to the Tree of Life--now you despise me?
JULIA. Oh, stealing apples is something all boys do.
JEAN. You may say so now, but you despise me nevertheless. However—- once I got into the Garden of Eden with my mother to weed the onion beds. Near by stood a Turkish pavillion, shaded by trees and covered with honeysuckle. I didn't know what it was used for, but I had never seen a more beautiful building. People went in and came out again, and one day the door was left wide open. I stole up and saw the walls covered with pictures of kings and emperors, and the windows were hung with red, fringed curtains--now you know what I mean. I--[breaks off a lilac sprig and holds it under MISS JULIA's nose]--I had never been inside the manor, and I had never seen anything but the church--and this was much finer. No matter where my thoughts ran, they returned always--to that place. And gradually a longing arose within me to taste the full pleasure of--_enfin_! I sneaked in, looked and admired. Then I heard somebody coming. There was only one way out for fine people, but for me there was another, and I could do nothing else but choose it.
[JULIA, who has taken the lilac sprig, lets it drop on the table.]
JEAN. Then I started to run, plunged through a hedge of raspberry bushes, chased right across a strawberry plantation, and came out on the terrace where the roses grow. There I caught sight of a pink dress and pair of white stockings--that was you! I crawled under a pile of weeds--right into it, you know--into stinging thistles and wet, ill-smelling dirt. And I saw you walking among the roses, and I thought: if it be possible for a robber to get into heaven and dwell with the angels, then it is strange that a cotter's child, here on God's own earth, cannot get into the park and play with the count's daughter.
JULIA. [Sentimentally] Do you think all poor children have the same thoughts as you had in this case?
JEAN. [Hesitatingly at first; then with conviction] If _all_ poor—- yes—-of course. Of course!
JULIA. It must be a dreadful misfortune to be poor.
JEAN. [In a tone of deep distress and with rather exaggerated emphasis] Oh, Miss Julia! Oh!--A dog may lie on her ladyship's sofa; a horse may have his nose patted by the young lady's hand, but a servant--[changing his tone]--oh well, here and there you meet one made of different stuff, and he makes a way for himself in the world, but how often does it happen?--However, do you know what I did? I jumped into the mill brook with my clothes on, and was pulled out, and got a licking. But the next Sunday, when my father and the rest of the people were going over to my grandmother's, I fixed it so that I could stay at home. And then I washed myself with soap and hot water, and put on my best clothes, and went to church, where I could see you. I did see you, and went home determined to die. But I wanted to die beautifully and pleasantly, without any pain. And then I recalled that it was dangerous to sleep under an elder bush. We had a big one that was in full bloom. I robbed it of all its flowers, and then I put them in the big box where the oats were kept and lay down in them. Did you ever notice the smoothness of oats? Soft to the touch as the skin of the human body! However, I pulled down the lid and closed my eyes--fell asleep and was waked up a very sick boy. But I didn't die, as you can see. What I wanted--that's more than I can tell. Of course, there was not the least hope of winning you—-but you symbolised the hopelessness of trying to get out of the class into which I was born.
JULIA. You narrate splendidly, do you know! Did you ever go to school?
JEAN. A little. But I have read a lot of novels and gone to the theatre a good deal. And besides, I have listened to the talk of better-class people, and from that I have learned most of all.
JULIA. Do you stand around and listen to what we are saying?
JEAN. Of course! And I have heard a lot, too, when I was on the box of the carriage, or rowing the boat. Once I heard you, Miss Julia, and one of your girl friends--
JULIA. Oh!--What was it you heard then?
JEAN. Well, it wouldn't be easy to repeat. But I was rather surprised, and I couldn't understand where you had learned all those words. Perhaps, at bottom, there isn't quite so much difference as they think between one kind of people and another.
JULIA. You ought to be ashamed of yourself! We don't live as you do when we are engaged.
JEAN. [Looking hard at her] Is it so certain?--Well, Miss Julia, it won't pay to make yourself out so very innocent to me—-
JULIA. The man on whom I bestowed my love was a scoundrel.
JEAN. That's what you always say--afterwards.
JULIA. Always?
JEAN. Always, I believe, for I have heard the same words used several times before, on similar occasions.
JULIA. What occasions?
JEAN. Like the one of which we were speaking. The last time--
JULIA. [Rising] Stop! I don't want to hear any more!
JEAN. Nor did _she_--curiously enough! Well, then I ask permission to go to bed.
JULIA. [Gently] Go to bed on Midsummer Eve?
JEAN. Yes, for dancing with that mob out there has really no attraction for me.
JULIA. Get the key to the boat and take me out on the lake--I want to watch the sunrise.
JEAN. Would that be wise?
JULIA. It sounds as if you were afraid of your reputation.
JEAN. Why not? I don't care to be made ridiculous, and I don't care to be discharged without a recommendation, for I am trying to get on in the world. And then I feel myself under a certain obligation to Christine.
JULIA. So it's Christine now
JEAN. Yes, but it's you also--Take my advice and go to bed!
JULIA. Am I to obey you?
JEAN. For once--and for your own sake! The night is far gone. Sleepiness makes us drunk, and the head grows hot. Go to bed! And besides--if I am not mistaken—-I can hear the crowd coming this way to look for me. And if we are found together here, you are lost!
CHORUS. [Is heard approaching]: Through the fields come two ladies a-walking, Treederee-derallah, treederee-derah. And one has her shoes full of water, Treederee-derallah-lah.
They're talking of hundreds of dollars, Treederee-derallah, treederee-derah. But have not between them a dollar Treederee-derallah-lah.
This wreath I give you gladly, Treederee-derallah, treederee-derah. But love another madly, Treederee-derallah-lah.
JULIA. I know the people, and I love them, just as they love me. Let them come, and you'll see.
JEAN. No, Miss Julia, they don't love you. They take your food and spit at your back. Believe me. Listen to me--can't you hear what they are singing?--No, don't pay any attention to it!
JULIA. [Listening] What is it they are singing?
JEAN. Oh, something scurrilous. About you and me.
JULIA. How infamous! They ought to be ashamed! And the treachery of it!
JEAN. The mob is always cowardly. And in such a fight as this there is nothing to do but to run away.
JULIA. Run away? Where to? We cannot get out. And we cannot go into Christine's room.
JEAN. Oh, we cannot? Well, into my room, then! Necessity knows no law. And you can trust me, for I am your true and frank and respectful friend.
JULIA. But think only-think if they should look for you in there!
JEAN. I shall bolt the door. And if they try to break it I open, I'll shoot!--Come! [Kneeling before her] Come!
JULIA. [Meaningly] And you promise me--?
JEAN. I swear!
[MISS JULIA goes quickly out to the right. JEAN follows her eagerly.]
***
BALLET
The peasants enter. They are decked out in their best and carry flowers in their hats. A fiddler leads them. On the table they place a barrel of small-beer and a keg of "brännvin," or white Swedish whiskey, both of them decorated with wreathes woven out of leaves. First they drink. Then they form in ring and sing and dance to the melody heard before:
"Through the fields come two ladies a-walking."
The dance finished, they leave singing.
***
JULIA. [Enters alone. On seeing the disorder in the kitchen, she claps her hands together. Then she takes out a powder-puff and begins to powder her face.]
JEAN. [Enters in a state of exaltation] There you see! And you heard, didn't you? Do you think it possible to stay here?
JULIA. No, I don't think so. But what are we to do?
JEAN. Run away, travel, far away from here.
JULIA. Travel? Yes-but where?
JEAN. To Switzerland, the Italian lakes--you have never been there?
JULIA. No. Is the country beautiful?
JEAN. Oh! Eternal summer! Orange trees! Laurels! Oh!
JULIA. But then-what are we to do down there?
JEAN. I'll start a hotel, everything first class, including the customers?
JULIA. Hotel?
JEAN. That's the life, I tell you! Constantly new faces and new languages. Never a minute free for nerves or brooding. No trouble about what to do--for the work is calling to be done: night and day, bells that ring, trains that whistle, 'busses that come and go; and gold pieces raining on the counter all the time. That's the life for you!
JULIA. Yes, that is life. And I?
JEAN. The mistress of everything, the chief ornament of the house. With your looks--and your manners--oh, success will be assured! Enormous! You'll sit like a queen in the office and keep the slaves going by the touch of an electric button. The guests will pass in review before your throne and timidly deposit their treasures on your table. You cannot imagine how people tremble when a bill is presented to them--I'll salt the items, and you'll sugar them with your sweetest smiles. Oh, let us get away from here--[pulling a time-table from his pocket]--at once, with the next train! We'll be in Malmö at 6.30; in Hamburg at 8.40 to-morrow morning; in Frankfort and Basel a day later. And to reach Como by way of the St. Gotthard it will take us--let me see--three days. Three days!
JULIA. All that is all right. But you must give me some courage— Jean. Tell me that you love me. Come and take me in your arms.
JEAN. [Reluctantly] I should like to--but I don't dare. Not in this house again. I love you--beyond doubt--or, can you doubt it, Miss Julia?
JULIA. [With modesty and true womanly feeling] Miss? Call me Julia. Between us there can be no barriers here after. Call me Julia!
JEAN. [Disturbed] I cannot! There will be barriers between us as long as we stay in this house--there is the past, and there is the count-—and I have never met another person for whom I felt such respect. If I only catch sight of his gloves on a chair I feel small. If I only hear that bell up there, I jump like a shy horse. And even now, when I see his boots standing there so stiff and perky, it is as if something made my back bend. [Kicking at the boots] It's nothing but superstition and tradition hammered into us from childhood--but it can be as easily forgotten again. Let us only get to another country, where they have a republic, and you'll see them bend their backs double before my liveried porter. You see, backs have to be bent, but not mine. I wasn't born to that kind of thing. There's better stuff in me--character--and if I only get hold of the first branch, you'll see me do some climbing. To-day I am a valet, but next year I'll be a hotel owner. In ten years I can live on the money I have made, and then I'll go to Roumania and get myself an order. And I may--note well that I say _may_--end my days as a count.
JULIA. Splendid, splendid!
JEAN. Yes, in Roumania the title of count can be had for cash, and so you'll be a countess after all. My countess!
JULIA. What do I care about all I now cast behind me! Tell me that you love me: otherwise--yes, what am I otherwise?
JEAN. I will tell you so a thousand times--later. But not here. And above all, no sentimentality, or everything will be lost. We must look at the matter in cold blood, like sensible people. [Takes out a cigar, cuts of the point, and lights it] Sit down there now, and I'll sit here, and then we'll talk as if nothing had happened.
JULIA. [In despair] Good Lord! Have you then no feelings at all?
JEAN. I? No one is more full of feeling than I am. But I know how to control myself.
JULIA. A while ago you kissed my shoe--and now!
JEAN. [Severely] Yes, that was then. Now we have other things to think of.
JULIA. Don't speak harshly to me!
JEAN. No, but sensibly. One folly has been committed--don't let us commit any more! The count may be here at any moment, and before he comes our fate must be settled. What do you think of my plans for the future? Do you approve of them?
JULIA. They seem acceptable, on the whole. But there is one question: a big undertaking of that kind will require a big capital have you got it?
JEAN. [Chewing his cigar] I? Of course! I have my expert knowledge, my vast experience, my familiarity with several languages. That's the very best kind of capital, I should say.
JULIA. But it won't buy you a railroad ticket even.
JEAN. That's true enough. And that is just why I am looking for a backer to advance the needful cash.
JULIA. Where could you get one all of a sudden?