ANTONIN. My dear, it’s quite useless starting the lecture about women’s rights all over again. I heard it the other evening. Leave that sort of thing to old maids with beards. If I were willing to listen to you, you’d reel off the whole catalogue of grievances against the laws which make women slaves. I know.
JULIE. No: it is not a question of law. It is a question of social usage. [A pause]. What is wrong is not that there is such and such a provision in the Code. The real evil is that our parents married us as they did marry us.
ANTONIN. They did as most parents do.
JULIE. And so most marriages are unhappy.
ANTONIN. If you really loved me—
JULIE. But I don’t love you. That is just the point. And you don’t love me. And here we are chained to one another.
ANTONIN. Nonsense. I not love you?
JULIE. No, indeed. You don’t love me.
ANTONIN. Come, come, you are talking foolishly. It’s late. Let’s go to bed. Things will be all right to-morrow morning. [He goes into the bedroom].
JULIE [sits staring in front of her for awhile: then she says to herself] No: things will never be all right. Never. Never.