Juhasz—[Averts his eyes.] I'm sorry, sir.
Count—[Irritably.] I once had a horse named Trafalgar. He was just like you.
Juhasz—Like me?
Count—He broke his leg . . . and I couldn't have him shot because he used to look at me . . . exactly as you do. [In spite of himself, Juhasz looks at him.] Don't look at me like that! I forbid it!
Juhasz—[Looking away.] Yes, your excellency.
Count—[Consults a memorandum.] Here is a long list of your offenses. First, there's that potter, Mano Steiner, who owes us eight thousand kronen. You granted him an extension of one year. What for?
Juhasz—Pots, your excellency.
Count—I know that.
Juhasz—And the poor fellow has had so much trouble of late.
Count—Trouble?
Juhasz—Business trouble.
Count—You have no right to be charitable at my expense.
Juhasz—Wasn't there some other complaint, too, sir?
Count—Yes, lots of them. [Consults the memorandum.] You owe three hundred and thirty kronen to the all-night café.
Juhasz—Not for myself, excellency.
