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.