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
suprised 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.
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