Julia.
Oh, I thank you most heartily, George. It's certainly very noble
of you--and--I deeply appreciate it. But after--this, I should
always feel ashamed before you--I should feel that I was just being
tolerated--I-- No. Thank you, George--but I couldn't stand it.
Pierre (_correcting her_).
That is--! (_Aside to_ Julia.) Don't be a fool!
Wittich (_without noticing_ Pierre).
You shall never hear a word of reproach from my lips, Julia, dear.
Julia.
But--if I should actually accept--we never could go on as we did
before, you know. I must be free to do exactly as I please--to go
away--come back--just as I like. There is such a thing as the
sovereignty of the individuality, my dear George--you can't deny that.
Pierre.
Herr Wittich can't possibly deny that!
Wittich.
You shall have your own way as far as it lies in my power, Julia, dear.
Julia.
And then, you must try to bring a little more--more beauty into our
life.--I surely have the right to demand that. Just look about you
here. You know how passionately fond of roses I am. My soul demands
something besides--potatoes! Well, I insist upon having roses around
me. That's not unreasonable, is it?
Wittich.
You shall have roses enough to smother you.
Pierre (_nervously_).
Well, then, Julia, dear, I see no reason why we should not accept this
proposition.
Wittich.
What have you got to say about it?
Pierre.
I beg your pardon, Herr Wittich. I certainly don't want to offend you.
But--as Julia and I have found so much in each other--haven't we,
Julia, dear?
Julia.
Yes--so very, very much, Pierre, dear.--And to know that we were so
near--and yet could never see each other or talk together, or-- I, for
my part, couldn't endure it, could you, Pierre?
Pierre.
Oh--as for that--well, it would be hard, Julia, dear.
Julia.
And what would the world say, dear George, if we should suddenly--and
apparently without any cause--break off all communication with our
neighbors? How would Pierre explain it to his mother? Why, he simply
couldn't! No; if we are to carry out your plan, then everything must
remain outwardly the same as before. Don't you agree with me, Pierre,
dear?
Pierre.
(_Hesitating, with an apprehensive glance toward_ Wittich.)
Outwardly--yes, Julia, dear.
Wittich (_losing control of himself_).
So that's your condition, is it?
Julia (_with a sort of nervous impudence_).
Yes, that's our condition--isn't it, Pierre, dear? (Pierre _does not
reply, but looks at_ Wittich.)
Wittich.
Really?--Really!--Very well! (_He draws himself to his full height, his
face flushes, and he looks around the room wildly, as if searching for
something._)
Julia.
What are you looking for, George?
Wittich.