Julia. No, no, no! As soon as I step into the street, I'm lost. And you, too! You don't know him! Gentle and tractable as he seems, when once he's angry, his blood boils over!--If I hadn't taken the cartridges out of his revolver in those days, he-- Why, I've seen him pick up two unmanageable boys on our place and swing them over his shoulder into the mill stream! And they would have been ground to pieces, too, if he hadn't braced himself against the shaft. Pierre, Pierre, never get into his way again. He's merciless! Pierre (_feigning indifference_). Oh, nonsense! I can hit the ace of hearts at twenty paces! I'll show him! Julia. Yes, you'll "show him"! Do you suppose that he's going to wait until you take a shot at him?--Devilish much he cares about your duels! He'd make a clod of earth out of you before you'd have time to take off your hat!--I tell you, bolt the gate, lock every room in the house, hide behind your mother's chair,--and even there you won't be safe from him! Pierre. (_Struggling against his growing apprehension._) If that's the case, then--h'm, then the best thing for me to do is to disappear for a time. Julia (_trying to cling to him_). Yes, let's go away together! Pierre (_moving aside_). That might suit you. Julia. But, after all, it would do no good. We could hide among crowds of people--in Piccadilly or in Batignolles--we could go to India or to Texas--and yet, if he took it into his head, he would find us none the less. Even if we should evade him--some day, sooner or later, you would have to return--and then--you would have to pay the penalty! Pierre (_stammering_). I--would--have to---- Julia (_wildly_). So stay--stay here! Go and shoot him down!--at night--from behind!--It doesn't matter! Only--let--me--breathe--again. Pierre. Do you want to drive me mad? Don't you see that I'm trembling all over? Julia. Because you're a cad and a coward--because---- Pierre. Yes, yes--anything, for all I care! But go! Leave my property! Insult me, spit on me,--but go! Julia. And what then? What then? Pierre. Can't you write to him? Tell him that you have come back from your little journey--that you have reconsidered--that you can't live without him. Tell him to forget--and all shall be as it was before.--Now, wouldn't that be splendid? Julia. Now when he suspects?--When he can follow me, step by step, here to this pavilion and back again? (_Contemptuously._) Splendid! Pierre. Then try something else!--Oh, now I have it! Now I have it!