Christine. Yes, and you, who are as sly as they’re made, ask me that. But will you serve people who carry on so improper? Why, one lowers oneself by doing it, it seems to me.
John. Yes, but it’s certainly a consolation for us that the others are no better than we are.
Christine. No, I don’t find that; because if they’re not better it’s not worth while trying to be like our betters, and think of the Count, think of him; he’s had so much trouble all his life long. No, I won’t stay any longer in this house. And with the likes of you! If it had been even Kronvogt, if it had been a better man.
John. What do you mean?
Christine. Yes, yes, you’re quite a good fellow, I know, but there’s always a difference between people and people—and I can never forget it. A young lady who was so proud, so haughty to the men that one could never imagine that she would ever give herself to a man—and then the likes of you! Her, who wanted to have the poor Diana shot dead at once, because she ran after a dog in the courtyard. Yes, I must say that; but I won’t stay here any longer, and on the 24th of October I go my way.
John. And then?
Christine. Well, as we’re on the subject, it would be about time for you to look out for another job, as we want to get married.
John. Yes, what kind of a job am I to look out for? I can’t get as good a place as this, if I’m married.
Christine. Of course you can’t, but you must try to get a place as porter, or see if you can get a situation as a servant in some public institution. The victuals are few but certain, and then the wife and children get a pension.
John.[With a grimace.] That’s all very fine, but it’s not quite my line of country to start off about thinking of dying for wife and child. I must confess that I’ve higher views.