There is a pause. Paula watches them go, then she crosses slowly to the Count's desk. In the garden, coming from the right, the Count appears. He stands in the doorway a moment, looking off left, apparently watching Juhasz and Philip depart.]
Count—Can I believe my eyes? Is that really Juhasz going toward the station? [She does not reply. He comes in. On the threshold he glances again off left.] If they hurry they can still catch the 12.05. It just pulled in the station. [Looks off left once more; comes down.] Well, sunbeam! [Paula looks at him sorrowfully then lowers her eyes.] We are alone.
Paula—Alone.
Count—It is hard to realize he is really gone. I shall go on expecting him to pop in that door any moment, or appear at the window, or crawl from under the table. . . . It doesn't seem possible that I'm free of him at last . . . that we are free.
Paula—[Sadly.] Free.
Count—But it's true, little sunbeam, it's true! No more dictation. No more political speeches. No more interruptions. . . . Now all that remains to be done is have the car overhauled . . . telegraph to Vienna, Salzburg, Paris . . . for the best rooms in the best hotels . . . for the most exquisite frocks . . . for the most magnificent cabin on the swiftest boat to the most beautiful seaport in Spain. . . .
