Composer. It never enters your head how irritable, impatient, and rough you are to them. The news of this gets around. And the poor ladies think that facing such a severe gentleman they must immediately produce their most powerful weapons. That’s what I think …

Director impatiently. How, that’s what you think?

Composer. If you received them coolly but courteously, you would inspire confidence in them … Manners do it, believe me.

Director. The devil. That would do it, as I’m director.

Composer. In your place I would not jeer, but rather calmly and in a courtly way converse with them. It would not enter their heads to bribe you with anything.

Director. You know what. If you know so well what must be done, then I’ll propose something. Sit down here in my place and be a little substitute managing director. I renounce my good fortune. You’ll see it’s all in vain, whatever manners you speak with. Just sit there.

“That would do it, as I’m director” doesn’t seem to make much sense, but trust me, the Hungarian is worse. Each individual word is extremely simple and common, but they’re put together in an order that’s flatly bizarre.

Perhaps this last little bit will make more sense tomorrow. Unfortunately, this is a key section, setting up the farce that follows. I’d really like to know what the author is getting at before I decide how to rephrase it.

Almost seven pages today, bringing my up to thirty-five pages out of seventy-five. I’m well on track to finish this within a couple of weeks.