Julia.
Dear me, mamma has had her tea long ago. Tell her you sat down in the shade--and fell asleep--anything! It's growing a bit shady here now. See there! The streaks of light have gone. (Indicates a corner of the room in which the streaks of light have just grown dim.) Ah! but how hot it is! (Tears her dress open at the throat, breathing heavily.) Will you bring me the coffee-pot, like a good boy?
Pierre (listlessly).
Oh, well--all right. (Carries the coffee-pot to the table.)
Julia.
Pierre, you--you couldn't open the small door just a tiny bit? No one would look into the shrubbery.
Pierre.
Well, out there in the shrubbery, it's even hotter than in here.
Julia.
Oh, just try it--won't you?