Julie. [To CHRISTINE.] I say, Christine, is John your sweetheart, that he’s so thick with you?

Christine. [Going, toward the fireplace.] My sweetheart? Yes, if you like. We call it that.

Julie. Call it?

Christine. Well, you yourself, Miss, had a sweetheart and

Julie. Yes, we were properly engaged.

Christine. But nothing at all came of it. [She sits down- and gradually goes to sleep.]

John. [In a black coat and with a black hat.]

Julie. Tres gentil, Monsieur Jean, tres gentil!

John. Vous voulez plaisanter, madame!

Julie. Et vous voulez parler français? And where did you pick that up?

John. In Switzerland, when I was a waiter in one of the best hotels in Lucerne.

Julie. But you look quite like a gentleman in that coat. Charming. [She sits down on the right, by the table.]

John. Ah! you’re flattering me.

Julie. [Offended.] Flatter? You?

John. My natural modesty won’t allow me to imagine that you’re paying true compliments to a man like me, so I took the liberty of supposing that you’re exaggerating or, in a manner of speaking, flattering.

Julie. Where did you learn to string your words together like that? You must have been to the theater a great deal?

John. Quite right. I’ve been to no end of places.

Julie. But you were born here in this neighborhood.

John. My father was odd man to the State attorney of this parish, and I saw you, Miss, when you were a child, although you didn’t notice me.

Julie. Really?