Pierre.
But, I tell you, I have to go back to mamma.
Julia.
Nowadays, you always "have to go back to mamma." Shall I tell you something--a big secret? You are tired of me! You want to get rid of me--only you don't know how!
Pierre.
Your notions are offensive, my dear.
Julia.
Pierre, I know my fate. I know I am doomed to the gutter. But not yet! Don't leave me yet! Care for me a little while longer--so the fall won't be too sudden.--Let me stay here as long as the roses bloom--here, where he can't find me! Oh, if I leave this place I shall die of fear!--Nowhere else am I safe from those two great fists of his!--Pierre, Pierre, you don't know his fists--they're like two iron bolts!--You, too--beware of him!
Pierre (half to himself).
Why do you say that to me?