[Philip enters through the archway, drying his hands.]
Paula—[Unaware of Philip's presence.] You mustn't think I consider you old.
Count—Now . . . don't pretend!
Paula—Your white hair . . . is one of your most attractive features. . . . If you only knew . . . how odious young men are . . . compared with an aristocratic, middle-aged gentleman like. . . . Oh, your excellency, I beg pardon. . . . I'll go and get your package. [Makes a movement toward the archway.]
Count—Wait! Juhasz will bring it. Don't rob me of this last minute with you.
Paula—[With fine coquetry.] Last?
Count—You are going home to your mother, and I am going back to Gerelypuszta. . . . You are a very clever girl . . . and I am not exactly stupid myself. . . . It would not be impossible, I daresay, to find you somewhere in the city. . . . But an old man must be as cautious and circumspect . . . as a young girl . . . and I try to be a very sensible old man. . . . I shall teach myself to do without you . . . slowly, painlessly. [Philip goes up behind the counter at back.] Poor Juhasz went into bankruptcy just in time for me, just in time.
[Juhasz, carrying the package, enters through the archway.]
