Julie. No—have a good time for two, three years, or as long as we can—and then die.
John. Die? What nonsense! I’m all for starting a hotel.
Julie.[Without listening to him.] By the Lake of Como, where the sun is always shining, where the laurel-trees are green at Christmas and the oranges glow.
John. The Lake of Como is a rainy hole. I didn’t see any oranges there, except in the vegetable shops, but it’s a good place for visitors, because there are a lot of villas which can be let to honeymooning couples, and that’s a very profitable industry. I’ll tell you why. They take a six months’ lease—and travel away after three weeks. ’ Julie. [Naively.] Why-after three weeks?
John. They quarrel, of course; but the rent’s got to be paid all the same, and then we let again, and so it goes on one after the other, for love goes on to all eternity—even though it doesn’t keep quite so long.
Julie. Then you won’t die with me?
John. I won’t die at all just yet, thank you. In the first place, because I still enjoy life, and, besides, because I look upon suicide as a sin against providence, which-has given us life.
Julie. Do you believe in God—you?
John. Yes, I certainly do, and I go to church every other Sunday. But, speaking frankly, I’m tired of all this, and I’m going to bed now.
Julie. You are, are you? And you think that I’m satisfied with that? Do you know what a man owes to the woman he has dishonored?