dictation I must make political speeches. . . . And I detest political speeches. . . .
Paula—[Listening.] Wasn't that the door? He's just come in the anteroom. Dictate to me! Hurry!
Count—It's enough to drive a man to despair. [Loudly, as Paula types.] "If the Minister of Agriculture supposes . . . that the farmers of the country will tolerate . . . such a thing, he is gravely mistaken." I'll discharge him. I'll discharge him this very day. . . . No. . . . Don't write that . . . I don't mean the minister.
Paula—[As she writes.] Don't be unkind to him. . . . He's such a dear, gentle soul.
Count—[Loudly.] The tiller of the soil asks little of his Government. . . .
Paula—[As she writes.] It's sheer gratitude that makes him guard me so faithfully, gratitude to me for having come here with him.
Count—I've put up with his gratitude until I'm weary of it. It's four months since you came here. Do you realize it? Four months you have tormented me . . . on his account. Four months you have been postponing my happiness from day to day . . . on his account.
Paula—You must be patient a little longer. He'll go of his own accord . . . as soon as he gets his fifty-one thousand kronen from Berlin. Meantime,
