A
servant is a servant.
JEAN. And a whore is a whore.
JULIE [Falls on her knees with clasped hands]. Oh, God in heaven,
end my wretched life, save me from this mire into which I'm
sinking--Oh save me, save me.
JEAN. I can't deny that it hurts me to see you like this.
JULIE. And you who wanted to die for me.
JEAN. In the oat-bin? Oh, that was only talk.
JULIE. That is to say--a lie!
JEAN [Beginning to show sleepiness]. Er--er almost. I believe I
read something of the sort in a newspaper about a chimney-sweep
who made a death bed for himself of syringa blossoms in a wood-bin--
[laughs] because they were going to arrest him for non-support of
his children.
JULIE. So you are such a--
JEAN. What better could I have hit on! One must always be romantic
to capture a woman.
JULIE. Wretch! Now you have seen the eagle's back, and I suppose I
am to be the first limb--
JEAN. And the limb is rotten--
JULIE [Without seeming to hear]. And I am to be the hotel's
signboard--
JEAN. And I the hotel--
JULIE. And sit behind the desk and allure guests and overcharge
them--
JEAN. Oh, that'll be my business.
JULIE. That a soul can be so degraded!
JEAN. Look to your own soul.
JULIE. Lackey! Servant! Stand up when I speak.
JEAN. Don't you dare to moralize to me. Lackey, eh! Do you think
you have shown yourself finer than any maid-servant tonight?
JULIE [Crushed]. That is right, strike me, trample on me, I deserve
nothing better.
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