Part 8
JULIE. Leave me--I'm not to be won this way.
JEAN. How then? Not with caresses and beautiful words? Not by thoughts for the future, to save humiliation? How then?
JULIE. How? I don't know. I don't know! I shrink from you as I would from a rat. But I cannot escape from you.
JEAN. Escape with me.
JULIE. Escape? Yes, we must escape.--But I'm so tired. Give me a glass of wine. [Jean fills a glass with wine, Julie looks at her watch.] We must talk it over first for we have still a little time left.
[She empties the glass and puts it out for more.]
JEAN. Don't drink too much. It will go to your head.
JULIE. What harm will that do?
JEAN. What harm? It's foolish to get intoxicated. But what did you want to say?
JULIE. We must go away, but we must talk first. That is, I must speak, for until now you have done all the talking. You have told me about your life--now I will tell you about mine, then we will know each other through and through before we start on our wandering together.
JEAN. One moment, pardon. Think well whether you won't regret having told your life's secrets.
JULIE. Aren't you my friend?
JEAN. Yes. Sometimes. But don't depend on me.
JULIE. You only say that. And for that matter I have no secrets. You see, my mother was not of noble birth. She was brought up with ideas of equality, woman's freedom and all that. She had very decided opinions against matrimony, and when my father courted her she declared that she would never be his wife--but she did so for all that. I came into the world against my mother's wishes, I discovered, and was brought up like a child of nature by my mother, and taught everything that a boy must know as well; I was to be an example of a woman being as good as a man--I was made to go about in boy's clothes and take care of the horses and harness and saddle and hunt, and all such things; in fact, all over the estate women servants were taught to do men's work, with the result that the property came near being ruined--and so we became the laughing stock of the countryside. At last my father must have awakened from his bewitched condition, for he revolted, and ran things according to his ideas. My mother became ill--what it was I don't know, but she often had cramps and acted queerly--sometimes hiding in the attic or the orchard, and would even be gone all night at times. Then came the big fire which of course you have heard about. The house, the stables--everything was burned, under circumstances that pointed strongly to an incendiary, for the misfortune happened the day after the quarterly insurance was due and the premiums sent in by father were strangely delayed by his messenger so that they arrived too late. [She fills a wine glass and drinks.]
JEAN. Don't drink any more.
JULIE. Oh, what does it matter? My father was utterly at a loss to know where to get money to rebuild with. Then my mother suggested that he try to borrow from a man who had been her friend in her youth--a brick manufacturer here in the neighborhood. My father made the loan, but wasn't allowed to pay any interest, which surprised him. Then the house was rebuilt. [Julie drinks again.] Do you know who burned the house?
JEAN. Her ladyship, your mother?
JULIE. Do you know who the brick manufacturer was?
JEAN. Your mother's lover?
JULIE. Do you know whose money it was?
JEAN. Just a moment, that I don't know.
JULIE. It was my mother's.
JEAN. The Count's--that is to say, unless there was a contract.
JULIE. There was no contract. My mother had some money which she had not wished to have in my father's keeping and therefore, she had entrusted it to her friend's care.
JEAN. Who kept it.
JULIE. Quite right--he held on to it. All this came to my father's knowledge. He couldn't proceed against him, wasn't allowed to pay his wife's friend, and couldn't prove that it was his wife's money. That was my mother's revenge for his taking the reins of the establishment into his own hands. At that time he was ready to shoot himself. Gossip had it that he had tried and failed. Well, he lived it down--and my mother paid full penalty for her misdeed. Those were five terrible years for me, as you can fancy. I sympathized with my father, but I took my mother's part, for I didn't know the true circumstances. Through her I learned to distrust and hate men, and I swore to her never to be a man's slave.
JEAN. But you became engaged to the Lieutenant Governor.
JULIE. Just to make him my slave.
JEAN. But that he didn't care to be.
JULIE. He wanted to be, fast enough, but I grew tired of him.
JEAN. Yes--I noticed that--in the stable-yard!
JULIE. What do you mean?
JEAN. I saw how he broke the engagement.
JULIE. That's a lie. It was I who broke it. Did he say he broke it--the wretch!
JEAN. I don't believe that he was a wretch. You hate men, Miss Julie.
JULIE. Most of them. Sometimes one is weak--
JEAN. You hate me?
JULIE. Excessively. I could see you shot--
JEAN. Like a mad dog?
JULIE. Exactly!
JEAN. But there is nothing here to shoot with. What shall we do then?
JULIE [Rousing herself].We must get away from here--travel.
JEAN. And torture each other to death?
JULIE. No--to enjoy, a few days, a week--as long as we can. And then to die.
JEAN. Die! How silly. I think it's better to start the hotel.
JULIE [Not heeding him]. By the Lake of Como where the sun is always shining, where the laurel is green at Christmas and the oranges glow.
JEAN. The Lake of Como is a rain hole, I never saw any oranges there except on fruit stands. But it's a good resort, and there are many villas to rent to loving couples. That's a very paying industry. You know why? They take leases for half a year at least, but they usually leave in three weeks.
JULIE [Naively]. Why after three weeks?
JEAN. Why? They quarrel of course, but the rent must be paid all the same. Then you re-let, and so one after another they come and go, for there is plenty of love, although it doesn't last long.
JULIE. Then you don't want to die with me?
JEAN. I don't want to die at all, both because I enjoy living and because I regard suicide as a crime to Him who has given us life.
JULIE. Then you believe in God?
JEAN. Yes. Of course I do, and I go to church every other Sunday--But I'm tired of all this and I'm going to bed.
JULIE. Do you think I would allow myself to be satisfied with such an ending? Do you know what a man owes to a woman he hits-- --
JEAN [Takes out a silver coin and throws it on the table]. Allow me, I don't want to owe anything to anyone.
JULIE [Pretending not to notice the insult]. Do you know what the law demands?
JEAN. I know that the law demands nothing of a woman who seduces a man.
JULIE [Again not heeding him]. Do you see any way out of it but to travel?--wed--and separate?
JEAN. And if I protest against this misalliance?
JULIE. Misalliance!
JEAN. Yes, for me. For you see I have a finer ancestry than you, for I have no fire-bug in my family.
JULIE. How do you know?
JEAN. You can't prove the contrary. We have no family record except that which the police keep. But your pedigree I have read in a book on the drawing room table. Do you know who the founder of your family was? It was a miller whose wife found favor with the king during the Danish War. Such ancestry I have not.
JULIE. This is my reward for opening my heart to anyone so unworthy, with whom I have talked about my family honor.
JEAN. Dishonor--yes, I said it. I told you not to drink because then one talks too freely and one should never talk.
JULIE. Oh, how I repent all this. If at least you loved me!
JEAN. For the last time--what do you mean? Shall I weep, shall I jump over your riding whip, shall I kiss you, lure you to Lake Como for three weeks, and then--what do you want anyway? This is getting tiresome. But that's the way it always is when you get mixed up in women's affairs. Miss Julie, I see that you are unhappy, I know that you suffer, but I can't understand you. Among my kind there is no nonsense of this sort; we love as we play when work gives us time. We haven't the whole day and night for it like you.
JULIE. You must be good to me and speak to me as though I were a human being.
JEAN. Be one yourself. You spit on me and expect me to stand it.
JULIE. Help me, help me. Only tell me what to do--show me a way out of this!
JEAN. In heaven's name, if I only knew myself.
JULIE. I have been raving, I have been mad, but is there no means of deliverance?
JEAN. Stay here at home and say nothing. No one knows.
JULIE. Impossible. These people know it, and Kristin.
JEAN. They don't know it and could never suspect such a thing.
JULIE [Hesitating]. But--it might happen again.
JEAN. That is true.
JULIE. And the consequences?
JEAN [Frightened]. Consequences--where were my wits not to have thought of that! There is only one thing to do. Get away from here immediately. I can't go with you or they will suspect. You must go alone--away from here--anywhere.
JULIE. Alone? Where? I cannot.
JEAN. You must--and before the Count returns. If you stay, we know how it will be. If one has taken a false step it's likely to happen again as the harm has already been done, and one grows more and more daring until at last all is discovered. Write the Count afterward and confess all--except that it was I. That he could never guess, and I don't think he'll be so anxious to know who it was, anyway.
JULIE. I will go if you'll go with me.
JEAN. Are you raving again? Miss Julie running away with her coachman? All the papers would be full of it and that the Count could never live through.
JULIE. I can't go--I can't stay. Help me, I'm so tired--so weary. Command me, set me in motion--I can't think any more,--can't act--
JEAN. See now, what creatures you aristocrats are! Why do you bristle up and stick up your noses as though you were the lords of creation. Very well--I will command you! Go up and dress yourself and see to it that you have travelling money and then come down. [She hesitates.] Go immediately.
[She still hesitates. He takes her hand and leads her to door.]
JULIE. Speak gently to me, Jean.
JEAN. A command always sounds harsh. Feel it yourself now.
[Exit Julie.]
[Jean draws a sigh of relief, seats himself by the table, takes out a notebook and pencil and counts aloud now and then until Kristin comes in, dressed for church.]
KRISTIN. My heavens, how it looks here. What's been going on?
JEAN. Oh, Miss Julie dragged in the people. Have you been sleeping so soundly that you didn't hear anything?
KRISTIN. I've slept like a log.
JEAN. And already dressed for church!
KRISTIN. Ye-es, [Sleepily] didn't you promise to go to early service with me?
JEAN. Yes, quite so, and there you have my stock and front. All right.
[He seats himself. Kristin putting on his stock.]
JEAN [Sleepily]. What is the text today?
KRISTIN. St. John's Day! It is of course about the beheading of John the Baptist.
JEAN. I'm afraid it will be terribly long drawn out--that. Hey, you're choking me. I'm so sleepy, so sleepy.
KRISTIN. What have you been doing up all night? You are actually green in the face.
JEAN. I have been sitting here talking to Miss Julie.
KRISTIN. Oh you don't know your place.
[Pause.]
JEAN. Listen, Kristin.
KRISTIN. Well?
JEAN. It's queer about her when you think it over.
KRISTIN. What is queer?
JEAN. The whole thing.
[Pause. Kristin looks at half empty glasses on table.]
KRISTIN. Have you been drinking together, too?
JEAN. Yes!
KRISTIN. For shame. Look me in the eye.
JEAN. Yes.
KRISTIN. Is it possible? Is it possible?
JEAN [After reflecting]. Yes, it is.
KRISTIN. Ugh! That I would never have believed. For shame, for shame!
JEAN. You are not jealous of her?
KRISTIN. No, not of her. But if it had been Clara or Sophie--then I would have scratched your eyes out. So that is what has happened--how I can't understand! No, that wasn't very nice!
JEAN. Are you mad at her?
KRISTIN. No, but with you. That was bad of you, very bad. Poor girl. Do you know what--I don't want to be here in this house any longer where one cannot respect one's betters.
JEAN. Why should one respect them?
KRISTIN. Yes, you can say that, you are so smart. But I don't want to serve people who behave so. It reflects on oneself, I think.
JEAN. Yes, but it's a comfort that they're not a bit better than we.
KRISTIN. No, I don't think so, for if they are not better there's no use in our trying to better ourselves in this world. And to think of the Count! Think of him who has had so much sorrow all his days? No, I don't want to stay in this house any longer! And to think of it being with such as you! If it had been the Lieutenant--
JEAN. What's that?
KRISTIN. Yes! He was good enough, to be sure, but there's a difference between people just the same. No, this I can never forget. Miss Julie who was always so proud and indifferent to men! One never would believe that she would give herself--and to one like you! She who was ready to have Diana shot because she would run after the gatekeeper's mongrels. Yes, I say it--and here I won't stay any longer and on the twenty-fourth of October I go my way.
JEAN. And then?
KRISTIN. Well, as we've come to talk about it, it's high time you looked around for something else, since we're going to get married.
JEAN. Well, what'll I look for? A married man couldn't get a place like this.
KRISTIN. No, of course not. But you could take a gatekeeper's job or look for a watchman's place in some factory. The government's plums are few, but they are sure. And then the wife and children get a pension--
JEAN [With a grimace]. That's all very fine--all that, but it's not exactly in my line to think about dying for my wife and children just now. I must confess that I have slightly different aspirations.
KRISTIN. Aspirations? Aspirations--anyway you have obligations. Think of those, you.
JEAN. Don't irritate me with talk about my obligations. I know my own business. [He listens.] We'll have plenty of time for all this some other day. Go and get ready and we'll be off to church.
KRISTIN [Listening]. Who's that walking upstairs?
JEAN. I don't know--unless it's Clara.
KRISTIN [Starting to go]. It could never be the Count who has come home without anyone hearing him?
JEAN [Frightened]. The Count! I can't believe that. He would have rung the bell.
KRISTIN. God help us! Never have I been mixed up in anything like this!
[Exit Kristin. The sun has risen and lights up the scene. Presently the sunshine comes in through windows at an angle. Jean goes to door and motions. Enter Julie, dressed for travelling, carrying a small bird cage covered with a cloth, which she places on a chair.]
JULIE. I am ready!
JEAN. Hush, Kristin is stirring!
[Julie frightened and nervous throughout following scene.]
JULIE. Does she suspect anything?
JEAN. She knows nothing. But, good heavens, how you look!
JULIE. Why?
JEAN. You are pale as a ghost.
JULIE [Sighs]. Am I? Oh, the sun is rising, the sun!
JEAN. And now the troll's spell is broken.
JULIE. The trolls have indeed been at work this night. But, Jean, listen--come with me, I have money enough.
JEAN. Plenty?
JULIE. Enough to start with. Go with me for I can't go alone--today, midsummer day. Think of the stuffy train, packed in with the crowds of people staring at one; the long stops at the stations when one would be speeding away. No, I cannot, I cannot! And then the memories, childhood's memories of midsummer day--the church decorated with birch branches and syringa blossoms; the festive dinner table with relations and friends, afternoon in the park, music, dancing, flowers and games--oh, one may fly, fly, but anguish and remorse follow in the pack wagon.
JEAN. I'll go with you--if we leave instantly--before it's too late.
JULIE. Go and dress then. [She takes up bird cage.]
JEAN. But no baggage! That would betray us.
JULIE. Nothing but what we can take in the coupé.
[Jean has picked up his hat.]
JEAN. What have you there?
JULIE. It's only my canary. I cannot, will not, leave it behind.
JEAN. So we are to lug a bird cage with us. Are you crazy? Let go of it.
JULIE. It is all I take from home. The only living creature that cares for me. Don't be hard--let me take it with me.
JEAN. Let go the cage and don't talk so loud. Kristin will hear us.
JULIE. No, I will not leave it to strange hands. I would rather see it dead.
JEAN. Give me the creature. I'll fix it.
JULIE. Yes, but don't hurt it. Don't--no, I cannot.
JEAN. Let go. I can.
JULIE [Takes the canary from cage]. Oh, my little siren. Must your mistress part with you?
JEAN. Be so good as not to make a scene. Your welfare, your life, is at stake. So--quickly. [Snatches bird from her and goes to chopping block and takes up meat chopper]. You should have learned how to chop off a chicken's head instead of shooting with a revolver. [He chops off the bird's head]. Then you wouldn't swoon at a drop of blood.
JULIE [Shrieks]. Kill me, too. Kill me! You who can butcher an innocent bird without a tremble. Oh, how I shrink from you. I curse the moment I first saw you. I curse the moment I was conceived in my mother's womb.
JEAN. Come now! What good is your cursing, let's be off.
JULIE [Looks toward chopping block as though obsessed by thought of the slain bird]. No, I cannot. I must see-- --hush, a carriage is passing. Don't you think I can stand the sight of blood? You think I am weak. Oh, I should like to see your blood flowing--to see your brain on the chopping block, all your sex swimming in a sea of blood. I believe I could drink out of your skull, bathe my feet in your breast and eat your heart cooked whole. You think I am weak; you believe that I love you because my life has mingled with yours; you think that I would carry your offspring under my heart, and nourish it with my blood--give birth to your child and take your name! Hear, you, what are you called, what is your family name? But I'm sure you have none. I should be "Mrs. Gate-Keeper," perhaps, or "Madame Dumpheap." You dog with my collar on, you lackey with my father's hallmark on your buttons. I play rival to my cook--oh--oh--oh! You believe that I am cowardly and want to run away. No, now I shall stay. The thunder may roll. My father will return--and find his desk broken into--his money gone! Then he will ring--that bell. A scuffle with his servant--then sends for the police--and then I tell all--everything! Oh, it will be beautiful to have it all over with--if only that were the end! And my father--he'll have a shock and die, and then that will be the end. Then they will place his swords across the coffin--and the Count's line is extinct. The serf's line will continue in an orphanage, win honors in the gutter and end in prison.
JEAN. Now it is the king's blood talking. Splendid, Miss Julie! Only keep the miller in his sack.
[Enter Kristin with prayer-book in hand.]
JULIE [Hastening to Kristin and falls in her arms as though seeking protection]. Help me, Kristin, help me against this man.
KRISTIN [Cold and unmoved]. What kind of performance is this for a holy day morning? What does this mean--this noise and fuss?
JULIE. Kristin, you are a woman,--and my friend. Beware of this wretch.
JEAN [A little embarrassed and surprised]. While the ladies are arguing I'll go and shave myself.
[Jean goes, R.]
JULIE. You must understand me--you must listen to me.
KRISTIN. No--I can't understand all this bosh. Where may you be going in your traveling dress?--and he had his hat on! Hey?
JULIE. Listen to me, Kristin, listen to me and I'll tell you everything.
KRISTIN. I don't want to know anything--
JULIE. You must listen to me--
KRISTIN. What about? Is it that foolishness with Jean? That doesn't concern me at all. That I won't be mixed up with, but if you're trying to lure him to run away with you then we must put a stop to it.
JULIE [Nervously]. Try to be calm now Kristin, and listen to me. I can't stay here and Jean can't stay here. That being true, we must leave-- --Kristin.
KRISTIN. Hm, hm!
JULIE [Brightening up]. But I have an idea--what if we three should go--away--to foreign parts. To Switzerland and set up a hotel together--I have money you see--and Jean and I would back the whole thing, you could run the kitchen. Won't that be fine? Say yes, now--and come with us--there everything would be arranged--say yes! [Throws her arms around Kristin and coaxes her].
KRISTIN [Cold and reflecting]. Hm--hm!