Julie. But just think, would they look for you there?

John. I’ll bolt the door, and if they try to break it in I’ll shoot. Come. [On his knees.] Come!

Julie. [Significantly.] Promise me.

John. On my oath!

[JULIE rushes off on the left. JOHN follows her in a state of excitement. Pantomime. Wedding party in holiday clothes, with flowers round their hats and a violin player at their head, come in through the glass door. Barrel of small beer and a keg of brandy wreathed with laurel are placed on the table. They take up glasses, they then drink, they then make a ring and a dance is sung and executed. Then they go out, singing again, through the glass door. JULIE comes w done from the left, observes the disorder in the kitchen and claps her hands; she then takes out a powder puff and powders her face. JOHN follows after the young woman from the left, in a state of exaltation.]

John. There, do you see, you’ve seen it for yourself now. You think it possible to go on staying here?

Julie. No, I don’t any more. But what’s to be done?

John. Run away—travel, far away from here.

Julie. Travel? Yes, but where?

John. Sweden—the Italian lakes, you’ve never been there, have you?

Julie. No; is it nice there?

John. Oh! A perpetual summer—oranges, laurels. Whew!

Julie. What are we to start doing afterward?

John. We shall start a first-class hotel there, with first-class visitors.

Julie. An hotel?

John. That’s a life, to be sure, you take it from me—an endless succession of new sights, new languages; not a minute to spare for sulking or brooding; not looking for work, for the work comes of its own. The bell goes on ringing day and night, the train puffs, the omnibus comes and goes, while the gold pieces roll’ into the till. That’s a life, to be sure!