JEAN. One moment, pardon. Think well whether you won't regret
having told your life's secrets.

JULIE. Aren't you my friend?

JEAN. Yes. Sometimes. But don't depend on me.

JULIE. You only say that. And for that matter I have no secrets.
You see, my mother was not of noble birth. She was brought up with
ideas of equality, woman's freedom and all that. She had very
decided opinions against matrimony, and when my father courted her
she declared that she would never be his wife--but she did so for
all that. I came into the world against my mother's wishes, I
discovered, and was brought up like a child of nature by my mother,
and taught everything that a boy must know as well; I was to be an
example of a woman being as good as a man--I was made to go about
in boy's clothes and take care of the horses and harness and saddle
and hunt, and all such things; in fact, all over the estate women
servants were taught to do men's work, with the result that the
property came near being ruined--and so we became the laughing
stock of the countryside. At last my father must have awakened from
his bewitched condition, for he revolted, and ran things according
to his ideas. My mother became ill--what it was I don't know, but
she often had cramps and acted queerly--sometimes hiding in the
attic or the orchard, and would even be gone all night at times.
Then came the big fire which of course you have heard about. The
house, the stables--everything was burned, under circumstances that
pointed strongly to an incendiary, for the misfortune happened the
day after the quarterly insurance was due and the premiums sent in