_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!