excellency about you. Maybe I can persuade him to keep you on.
Mate—He's a good-hearted man. . . . I'd have spoken to him myself only[With a hopeless gesture he indicates his tattered coat.] I couldn't let him see me in this condition.
Juhasz—[Grasps both lapels of his own coat; despairingly.] The man will have the coat off my back!
Mate—[Takes a protesting stride toward him.] But Mr. Juhasz . . . you don't suppose that I
Juhasz—No, no . . . but stop talking like that . . . or I'll have to take it off. . . . Merciful heaven! To think that such poverty exists in our very midst!
Mate—[Weeping.] You have made a better man of me, Mr. Juhasz.
Juhasz—There . . . there, my boy . . . don't worry . . . everything will be all right. . . . Just rely on me. . . . I'll take care of you. [Puts an arm about him; his voice quavers with tenderness and pity.] Come what may, I'll help you. [The Count appears in the doorway at back.] We'll overlook what you have done . . . and I'll see to it that your wages are raised. [The Count enters. Seeing him, Juhasz lets his arm fall from Mate's shoulder. There is a pause.]
Count—Is this the way you dismiss the man, Mr. Juhasz?
