Roboz. But is there no way?

Director impatiently. I am very sorry, Miss. My regards, Miss.

Roboz. Still, would there be some possibility?

Director opening the door. I am very sorry, Miss. My regards.

Roboz. But I beg of you, if there is any chance …

Director. If you please, I have a great many tasks to attend to. You see how many people are waiting out here. The telephone rings. And the telephone as well.

And now, I give you the opening of the play. I re-read further than this, but I delayed beginning my translation until I finished deciphering the definition of “nagysád”, which elucidates the subtlety with which it illuminates both the relative social classes of the two characters and the precise level of respect which the director chooses to demonstrate within those parameters. After giving the matter careful consideration, I have decided that the best translation of this term is “Miss”, although I reserve the right to revisit my decision, and I feel confident that the hour and a half I spent working on this was time well spent. (I am being sardonic here, of course, but I am actually not the slightest bit sarcastic.)

The phrase “ajánlom magamat”, which appears frequently as well, took a bit less time to resolve. A word-for-word translation would be “I recommend myself”, but My Precious confirms my intuition that it’s a well-worn conventional phrase whose intrinsic meaning is unimportant. What matters is that it’s stiff and impersonal. “My regards” seems to convey that in English, a heck of a lot better than “Miss” conveys the effect of “nagysád”. Fortunately, everything in the director’s manner works together to convey the same impression, so if one term lose much of its force due to the lack of a natural English equivalent, the speech as a whole has essentially the same impact.