Paula—He must be made to believe that the money was sent by the person from whom he's expecting it. From Oscar Mezei . . . in Berlin.
Count—I see. Not bad!
Paula—Very simple. Have your cashier put fifty-one thousand kronen in an envelope and with it a notification that the money comes from a Berlin bank. Can he do that?
Count—[Enthusiastically.] I'll make him do it. And as soon as Juhasz gets the money
Paula—He will hurry with it to the city . . . to pay off his creditors . . . and take over his shop . . . and stay in it.
Count—If we hurry, perhaps we can get him off by the noon train. I'll see the cashier at once. The whole thing shouldn't take more than ten minutes to fabricate. . . . You have made me very happy, dear. This clever plan of yours is the first real intimation that you, too, want to be rid of Juhasz.
Paula—Rid of him! That's a hideous way to put it.
Count—Put it as you like, the fact is there. It is perfectly natural for me to be impatient . . . but for you to be is . . . charming.
Paula—It isn't impatience . . . as much as . . . uneasiness. When I look at him . . . sometimes . . . I feel a twinge of doubt. When I see how pathetically he tries to protect me . . . from you
