[_The whistling continues_]. Stand by to isolate. [_To the Elderly Gentleman, who is staring after the whistling Emperor_] How far has he gone?
THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN. To that curious statue of a fat old man.
ZOO [_quickly, intoning_] Isolate the Falstaff monument isolate hard.
Paralyze--[_the whistling stops_]. Thank you. [_She puts up her tuning-fork_]. He shall not move a muscle until I come to fetch him.
THE ENVOY"S WIFE. Oh! he will be frightfully angry! Did you hear what he said to me?
ZOO. Much we care for his anger!
THE DAUGHTER [_coming forward between her mother and Zoo_]. Please, madam, whose statue is it? and where can I buy a picture postcard of it?
It is so funny. I will take a snapshot when we are coming back; but they come out so badly sometimes.
ZOO. They will give you pictures and toys in the temple to take away with you. The story of the statue is too long. It would bore you [_she goes past them across the courtyard to get rid of them_].
THE WIFE [_gushing_] Oh no, I a.s.sure you.
THE DAUGHTER [_copying her mother_] We should be so interested.
ZOO. Nonsense! All I can tell you about it is that a thousand years ago, when the whole world was given over to you shortlived people, there was a war called the War to end War. In the war which followed it about ten years later, hardly any soldiers were killed; but seven of the capital cities of Europe were wiped out of existence. It seems to have been a great joke: for the statesmen who thought they had sent ten million common men to their deaths were themselves blown into fragments with their houses and families, while the ten million men lay snugly in the caves they had dug for themselves. Later on even the houses escaped; but their inhabitants were poisoned by gas that spared no living soul.
Of course the soldiers starved and ran wild; and that was the end of pseudo-Christian civilization. The last civilized thing that happened was that the statesmen discovered that cowardice was a great patriotic virtue; and a public monument was erected to its first preacher, an ancient and very fat sage called Sir John Falstaff. Well [_pointing_], thats Falstaff.
THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN [_coming from the portico to his granddaughter"s right_] Great Heavens! And at the base of this monstrous poltroon"s statue the War G.o.d of Turania is now gibbering impotently.
ZOO. Serve him right! War G.o.d indeed!
THE ENVOY [_coming between his wife and Zoo_] I don"t know any history: a modern Prime Minister has something better to do than sit reading books; but--
THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN [_interrupting him encouragingly_] You make history, Ambrose.
THE ENVOY. Well, perhaps I do; and perhaps history makes me. I hardly recognize myself in the newspapers sometimes, though I suppose leading articles are the materials of history, as you might say. But what I want to know is, how did war come back again? and how did they make those poisonous gases you speak of? We should be glad to know; for they might come in very handy if we have to fight Turania. Of course I am all for peace, and don"t hold with the race of armaments in principle; still, we must keep ahead or be wiped out.
ZOO. You can make the gases for yourselves when your chemists find out how. Then you will do as you did before: poison each other until there are no chemists left, and no civilization. You will then begin all over again as half-starved ignorant savages, and fight with boomerangs and poisoned arrows until you work up to the poison gases and high explosives once more, with the same result. That is, unless we have sense enough to make an end of this ridiculous game by destroying you.
THE ENVOY [_aghast_] Destroying us!
THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN. I told you, Ambrose. I warned you.
THE ENVOY. But--
ZOO [_impatiently_] I wonder what Zozim is doing. He ought to be here to receive you.
THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN. Do you mean that rather insufferable young man whom you found boring me on the pier?
ZOO. Yes. He has to dress-up in a Druid"s robe, and put on a wig and a long false beard, to impress you silly people. I have to put on a purple mantle. I have no patience with such mummery; but you expect it from us; so I suppose it must be kept up. Will you wait here until Zozim comes, please [_she turns to enter the temple_].
THE ENVOY. My good lady, is it worth while dressing-up and putting on false beards for us if you tell us beforehand that it is all humbug?
ZOO. One would not think so; but if you wont believe in anyone who is not dressed-up, why, we must dress-up for you. It was you who invented all this nonsense, not we.
THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN. But do you expect us to be impressed after this?
ZOO. I don"t expect anything. I know, as a matter of experience, that you will be impressed. The oracle will frighten you out of your wits.
[_She goes into the temple_].
THE WIFE. These people treat us as if we were dirt beneath their feet. I wonder at you putting up with it, Amby. It would serve them right if we went home at once: wouldnt it, Eth?
THE DAUGHTER. Yes, mamma. But perhaps they wouldnt mind.
THE ENVOY. No use talking like that, Molly. Ive got to see this oracle.
The folks at home wont know how we have been treated: all theyll know is that Ive stood face to face with the oracle and had the straight tip from her. I hope this Zozim chap is not going to keep us waiting much longer; for I feel far from comfortable about the approaching interview; and thats the honest truth.
THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN. I never thought I should want to see that man again; but now I wish he would take charge of us instead of Zoo. She was charming at first: quite charming; but she turned into a fiend because I had a few words with her. You would not believe: she very nearly killed me. You heard what she said just now. She belongs to a party here which wants to have us all killed.
THE WIFE [_terrified_] Us! But we have done nothing: we have been as nice to them as nice could be. Oh, Amby, come away, come away: there is something dreadful about this place and these people.
THE ENVOY. There is, and no mistake. But youre safe with me: you ought to have sense enough to know that.
THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN. I am sorry to say, Molly, that it is not merely us four poor weak creatures they want to kill, but the entire race of Man, except themselves.
THE ENVOY. Not so poor neither, Poppa. Nor so weak, if you are going to take in all the Powers. If it comes to killing, two can play at that game, longlived or shortlived.
THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN. No, Ambrose: we should have no chance. We are worms beside these fearful people: mere worms.
_Zozim comes from the temple, robed majestically, and wearing a wreath of mistletoe in his flowing white wig. His false beard reaches almost to his waist. He carries a staff with a curiously carved top._
ZOZIM [_in the doorway, impressively_] Hail, strangers!
ALL [_reverently_] Hail!
ZOZIM. Are ye prepared?
THE ENVOY. We are.
ZOZIM [_unexpectedly becoming conversational, and strolling down carelessly to the middle of the group between the two ladies_] Well, I"m sorry to say the oracle is not. She was delayed by some member of your party who got loose; and as the show takes a bit of arranging, you will have to wait a few minutes. The ladies can go inside and look round the entrance hall and get pictures and things if they want them.
{Thank you.} THE WIFE} [_together_] {I should like to,} [_They go into_]
THE DAUGHTER} {very much.} [_the temple_]
THE ELDERLY GENTLEMAN [_in dignified rebuke of Zozim"s levity_] Taken in this spirit, sir, the show, as you call it, becomes almost an insult to our common sense.
ZOZIM. Quite, I should say. You need not keep it up with me.
THE ENVOY [_suddenly making himself very agreeable_] Just so: just so.
We can wait as long as you please. And now, if I may be allowed to seize the opportunity of a few minutes" friendly chat--?
ZOZIM. By all means, if only you will talk about things I can understand.