I haven’t been completely idle this last month, but I haven’t gotten a lot done either. I feel that it’s time to get serious; from now on until I finish translating Ferenc Molnár’s, I plan to post once a day reporting on my progress, and quoting a few lines from each day’s work. Tonight I got bogged down on the second line of dialogue—I spent over half an hour with my mammoth dictionary trying to grasp every nuance of the term “nagysád”, an archaic form of address which is both courteous and overtly condescending—so all you get for now is the opening stage direction.

A musical theater, the office of the artistic director. There are two windows on the far wall, through which can be seen the upper story of the house opposite. Between the two windows is a bookshelf. There are doors to the right and left. Along the right wall, upstage, is an upright piano. To the left, upstage, is a large writing table. On the writing table are two telephones, a house phone and an outside line. There are two armchairs in front of the writing table, with a wastepaper basket to their right. In the center is a table, with more chairs, papers, books, and a tray with two glasses. To the right, easily visible, is a stove. It’s a sunny, late autumn morning. Just as the curtain rises, the director escorts a young woman, Miss Roboz, to the door on the right.