Juhasz—Puszta cheese?
Count—Yes . . . it has been a great success. London is mad about that cheese. And so am I. I took first prize with it in London and in Edinburgh, too. You have no idea how proud that made me.
Juhasz—I remember your first experiment with that cheese.
Count—But you'd never know it now. [With enthusiasm.] I succeeded in crossing two breeds: Camembert, that over-ripe beauty, with Roquefort, that sharp, sardonic old gentleman. And the child of that marriage I nurtured and reared with my own hands. So naturally I am proud of the career it is making for itself. . . . Well, I must be going. Remember, let nothing worry you. If everything else fails you: Gerelypuszta, Desk, Cheese! Good night!
Adele—Good night, your excellency.
Juhasz—[Opens the door.] See you later, excellency. [The Count exits. He closes the door.] You shouldn't have complained to him, dear.
Adele—I didn't. He asked me.
Juhasz—I don't want to be put in a false position. He has done more for me already than my own father could have done.
Adele—[Hesitantly.] Well, now, Peter . . . if you have a moment. . . .
Juhasz—Certainly, my angel. I'm really curious to know what it is that's agitating this [takes her
