[Julie frightened and nervous throughout following scene.]
JULIE. Does she suspect anything?
JEAN. She knows nothing. But, good heavens, how you look!
JULIE. Why?
JEAN. You are pale as a ghost.
JULIE [Sighs]. Am I? Oh, the sun is rising, the sun!
JEAN. And now the troll's spell is broken.
JULIE. The trolls have indeed been at work this night. But, Jean, listen—come with me, I have money enough.
JEAN. Plenty?
JULIE. Enough to start with. Go with me for I can't go alone—today, midsummer day. Think of the stuffy train, packed in with the crowds of people staring at one; the long stops at the stations when one would be speeding away. No, I cannot, I cannot! And then the memories, childhood's memories of midsummer day—the church decorated with birch branches and syringa blossoms; the festive dinner table with relations and friends, afternoon in the park, music, dancing, flowers and games—oh, one may fly, fly, but anguish and remorse follow in the pack wagon.