Julie. You must be kind to me, and now talk like a man. Help me! Help me! Tell me what I must do—what course I shall take.

John. My Christ! If I only knew myself!

Julie. I am raving, I have been mad! But isn’t there any way by which I can be saved?

John. Stay here and keep quiet. Nobody knows anything.

Julie. Impossible! The servants know it; and Christine knows it.

John. They don’t know and they would never believe anything of the kind.

Julie. [Slowly.] It might happen again.

John. That’s true.

Julie. And the results?

John. The results? Where was I wool-gathering not to have thought about it? Yes, there’s only one thing to do—to clear out at once. I won’t go with you, because then it’s all up, but you must travel alone—away—anywhere you like.

Julie. Alone? Where? I can’t do it.

John. You must. And before the Count comes back too. If you stay then you know what will be the result. If one has taken the first step, then one goes on with it, because one’s already in for the disgrace, and then one gets bolder and bolder—at last you get copped—so you must travel. Write later on to the Count and confess everything except that it was me, and he’ll never guess that. I don’t think either that he’d be very pleased if he did find out.

Julie. I’ll travel, if you’ll come with me.

John. Are you mad, Miss? Do you want to elope with your servant? It’ll all be in the papers the next morning, and the Count would never get over it.