Pierre.
Well, you'll see! (Opens the door at the left.)
Julia.
Whew! It's like a blast from a furnace! And that disgusting odour--a mixture of perspiration and bad perfume--ugh!
Pierre.
That's from the roses of our by-gone days--they lie out there in great heaps.
Julia.
Close the door! Hurry--close it!
Pierre (does so).
I told you how it would be!