That’s a life, you take it from me; then the train puffs, the omnibus comes, the bells ring in the hotel itself, the bell rings in the restaurant—and then I make out the bills—and I’ll touch them up—you can have no idea how shy travelers are when they’ve got to pay their bill. And you—you’re installed as mistress in the kitchen. Of course, you haven’t yourself got to stand by the fireplace, and you’ve got to have nice pretty dresses when you have to appear before the visitors—and a girl with an appearance like you—no, I’m not flattering you—you can get a husband perhaps some fine day, some rich Englishman; you see, people are so easy to catch. [She commences to speak more slowly.] And then we shall get rich—and we’ll build a villa by Lake Como—of course it rains there now and then, but [in a less tense tone] there’s certain to be a great deal of sun—even though there’s gloomy weather as well—and—then—then we can travel home again—and come back [pause] here—or anywhere else.

Christine. Look here, Miss; do you believe in all this yourself?

Julie. [Crushed.] Do I believe in it myself?

Christine. Yes.

Julie. [Tired.] I don’t know. I don’t really believe in anything any more. [She sits down on the seat and lays her head on the table between her arms.] In anything, in anything at all.

Christine. [Turns to the left, where JOHN is standing.] So you thought you’d elope, did you?

John. [Shamefaced, puts his rasor on the table.] Elope? Come, that’s a big word—you heard Miss Julie’s plan; and although she’s tired now, from having been up all night, the scheme can still be put through.

Christine. I say, did you mean that I should be cook there, for her?

John. [Sharply.] Be so kind as to speak more refined when you’re talking of your mistress. Understand?