Roses: Four One-Act Plays - LightNovelsOnl.com
You're reading novel online at LightNovelsOnl.com. Please use the follow button to get notifications about your favorite novels and its latest chapters so you can come back anytime and won't miss anything.
Pierre.
Yes--I dare say. Live!--But how? Where? (_Sobs chokingly._)
Julia.
Come, then--we'll die together--together! (_They sink into each other's arms and remain motionless in mute despair. After a time_, Julia _raises her head cautiously and looks about her._) Pierre!
Pierre (_troubled_).
Well?
Julia.
Has it occurred to you? Perhaps it isn't so, after all!
Pierre.
What do you mean?
Julia.
Perhaps we've just been talking ourselves into this notion, little by little--think so?
Pierre.
You mean that he really wanted to do nothing but--look at the pavilion?
Julia.
Well, it's possible, you know.
Pierre.
Yes--at least nothing very unusual occurred.
Julia.
But your naughty, naughty conscience came and a.s.serted itself. Ha! Ha!
What a silly little boy it is! A downright stupid little boy!
Pierre.
My imagination was always rather easily aroused. I----
Julia (_laughing without restraint_).
Such a stupid boy!--Pierre, let's make some coffee--for a change, eh?
Pierre.
But you know--I have to----
Julia.
Dear me, mamma has had her tea long ago. Tell her you sat down in the shade--and fell asleep--anything! It's growing a bit shady here now.
See there! The streaks of light have gone. (_Indicates a corner of the room in which the streaks of light have just grown dim._) Ah! but how hot it is! (_Tears her dress open at the throat, breathing heavily._) Will you bring me the coffee-pot, like a good boy?
Pierre (_listlessly_).
Oh, well--all right. (_Carries the coffee-pot to the table._)
Julia.
Pierre, you--you couldn't open the small door just a tiny bit? No one would look into the shrubbery.
Pierre.
Well, out there in the shrubbery, it's even hotter than in here.
Julia.
Oh, just try it--won't you?
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!
Julia.
Well, perhaps you could adjust the shutters at the large door so that we'd get more fresh air in here.
Pierre.
