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.]