_An octagonal pavilion of the Rococo period, the three front walls of
which are cut off by the proscenium. Ceiling and walls are cracked and
spotted by rain, and bear the marks of long disuse. At the back, in the
centre, a large doorway. The glass door is thrown wide open; the
shutters behind are closed. On the right and left, in the oblique walls
of the room, are windows, the shutters of which are also closed.
Through the blinds at the door and the right window, sunbeams in
streaks of light penetrate the semi-darkness of the room._
_On the left, in the foreground, a Louis Sixteenth sofa with table and
gilded chairs to match. On the wall above, an old mirror. Near the
sofa, a tapestried doorway. A chandelier wrapped in a dusty gauze
covering is suspended from the ceiling. A four-post bed with hangings
of light net takes up the right side of the stage. In the foreground,
in front of the bed, a table with plates, glasses, wine-decanters, and
provisions on it. A coffee percolator stands under the table. In the
middle of the stage, a little to the right, a chaise-longue. At the
head of it, a small table. Between the large door and the windows,
dusty marble busts on dilapidated pedestals. Above them, on the walls,
a collection of various sorts of weapons. The Oriental rugs which are
thrown about the floor and over the chaise-longue contrast strangely
with the faded splendour of the past._
_The whole room is decorated with roses. On the table at the left is a
bronze vessel of antique design overflowing with roses. Garlands of
roses hang from the chandelier and encircle the bedposts. On the small
table near the chaise-longue, a large, flat dish, also filled with
roses. In fact wherever there is any place for these flowers, they have
been used in profusion._
_Part of the table which stands in front of the sofa is covered by a
napkin, upon which are seen a bottle of wine and the remains of a
luncheon for one. It is a sultry afternoon in midsummer._
Julia _lies on the chaise-longue, asleep. She is a beautiful woman,
about twenty-five years of age, intractable and passionate, with traces
of a bourgeois desire to be "romantic." She is dressed in white,
flowing draperies, fantastically arranged._
_A tower clock strikes four. Then the bells of the castle are heard
ringing. Both seem to be at a distance of about two hundred paces._
Pierre _enters cautiously through the tapestried doorway at the left.
He is a fashionably dressed, aristocratic young fellow who has been
petted and spoiled. He is effeminate, cowardly, arrogant, and is trying
to play the passionate man, although inwardly cold and nervous._
Julia.
(_Laughs in her sleep. Her laughter dies out in groans._) Pierre!
Pierre! Help! Pierre!
Pierre (_bending over her_).
Yes, yes. What is it?
Julia.
Nothing-- (_Laughs and goes on sleeping_).
Pierre (_straightening up_).
Whew How hot it is! (_He stares at_ Julia, _his face distorted by fear
and anger, and beats his forehead. Then indicating the outstretched
form of the woman._) Beautiful!--You beautiful animal--you! (_Kneels_.
Julia _holds out her arms to him, but he evades her embrace._) Stop!
Wake up!
Julia (_tearfully_).
Please let me sleep.
Pierre.
No! Wake up! I've only come for a moment. It's tea-time, and I have to
go back to the house.
Julia.
Please stay!
Pierre.
No, mamma will be asking for me. I have to be there for tea.
Julia (_pettishly_).