Julie. Ah, if I had your faith! Ah, if

Christine. Mark you, one can’t just go and get it.

Julie. Who gets it, then?

Christine. That’s the great secret of grace, Miss, mark you, and God is no respecter of persons, but the first shall be last.

Julie. Yes, but then He is a respecter of persons—the last.

Christine. [Continues.] And it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to get into the kingdom of heaven. Mark you that’s what it is, Miss Julie. Well, I’m off—alone, and on the way I’ll tell the stable boy not to let out any horses, in case anybody wants to travel, before the Count comes home. Adieu! [Exit through the glass door.]

John. What a devil! And all that fuss about a canary.

Julie. [Limply.] Leave the canary out of it. Can you see a way out of all this?—an end for the whole thing?

John. [Ponders.] No.

Julie. What would you do in my position?

John. In your position? Just wait a minute, will you? As a girl of good birth, as a woman—as a fallen woman? I don’t know. Ah! I’ve got it!

Julie. [Takes up the razor and makes a movement.] That?

John. Yes, but I wouldn’t do it—note that well; that’s the difference between us.

Julie. Because you’re a man and I’m a woman? What difference does that make?

John. The same difference—as between men and women.

Julie. [With the knife in her hand.] I want to, but I can’t do it. My father couldn’t do it either—the time when he ought to have.