JULIE. [Flipping handkerchief in his face]. Curious, are you?
JEAN. How sweet that violet perfume is!
JULIE [Coquettishly]. Impudence! Do you appreciate perfumes too? Dance—that you can do splendidly. [Jean looks towards the cooking stove]. Don't look. Away with you.
JEAN [Inquisitive but polite]. Is it some troll's dish that you are both concocting for midsummer night? Something to pierce the future with and evoke the face of your intended?
JULIE [Sharply]. To see him one must have sharp eyes. [To Kristin]. Put it into a bottle and cork it tight. Come now, Jean and dance a schottische with me.
[Jean hesitates.]
JEAN. I don't wish to be impolite to anyone but—this dance I promised to Kristin.
JULIE. Oh, she can have another—isn't that so, Kristin? Won't you lend Jean to me.
KRISTIN. It's not for me to say, if Miss Julie is so gracious it's not for me to say no. [To Jean]. Go you and be grateful for the honor.
JEAN. Well said—but not wishing any offense I wonder if it is prudent for Miss Julie to dance twice in succession with her servant, especially as people are never slow to find meaning in—