JULIA. [With intense concern] What did he say? Lord Jesus, what did he say?
JEAN. He called for his boots and wanted his coffee in half an hour.
JULIA. In half an hour then! Oh, I am so tired. I can't do anything; can't repent, can't run away, can't stay, can't live- can't die! Help me now! Command me, and I'll obey you like a dog! Do me this last favour—save my honour, and save his name! You know what my will ought to do, and what it cannot do—now give me your will, and make me do it!
JEAN. I don't know why—but now I can't either—I don't understand- It is just as if this coat here made a—I cannot command you—and now, since I've heard the count's voice—now—I can't quite explain it-but—Oh, that damned menial is back in my spine again. I believe if the count should come down here, and if he should tell me to cut my own throat—I'd do it on the spot!
JULIA. Make believe that you are he, and that I am you! You did some fine acting when you were on your knees before me—then you were the nobleman—or—have you ever been to a show and seen one who could hypnotize people?
[JEAN makes a sign of assent.]
JULIA. He says to his subject: get the broom. And the man gets it.
He says: sweep. And the man sweeps.
JEAN. But then the other person must be asleep.
JULIA. [Ecstatically] I am asleep already—there is nothing in the whole room but a lot of smoke—and you look like a stove—that looks like a man in black clothes and a high hat—and your eyes glow like coals when the fire is going out—and your face is a lump of white ashes. [The sunlight has reached the floor and is now falling on JEAN] How warm and nice it is! [She rubs her hands as if warming them before a fire.] And so light—and so peaceful!
JEAN. [Takes the razor and puts it in her hand] There's the broom! Go now, while it is light—to the barn—and— [Whispers something in her ear.]