Miss Julie, listen to me. Kristin has gone to bed now--will
you listen to me--
JULIE. Kiss my hand first.
JEAN. Listen to me--
JULIE. Kiss my hand first.
JEAN. Yes, but blame yourself.
JULIE. For what?
JEAN. For what? Are you a child at twenty-five? Don't you know that
it is dangerous to play with fire?
JULIE. Not for me. I am insured!
JEAN. No, you are not. But even if you are, there is inflammable
material in the neighborhood.
JULIE. Might that be you?
JEAN. Yes, not because it is I, but because I'm a young man--
JULIE [Scornfully]. With a grand opportunity--what inconceivable
presumption! A Don Juan perhaps! Or a Joseph! On my soul, I believe
he is a Joseph!
JEAN. You do?
JULIE. Almost.
[Jean rushes towards her and tries to take her in his arms to kiss
her.]
JULIE [Gives him a box on the ear]. Shame on you.
JEAN. Are you in earnest, or fooling?
JULIE. In earnest.
JEAN. Then you were in earnest a moment ago, too. You play too
seriously with what is dangerous. Now I'm tired of playing and beg
to be excused that I may go on with my work. The Count must have
his boots in time, and it is long past midnight. [Jean picks up
boots.]
JULIE. Put those boots away.
JEAN. No, that is my work which it is my duty to do, but I was not
hired to be your play thing and that I shall never be. I think too
well of myself for that.
JULIE. You are proud.
JEAN. In some things--not in others.
JULIE. Were you ever in love?
JEAN.
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