DE REVES: Ah, but then it's hardly in your line, is it? You'd hardly approve of poetry if there _was_ money in it. PRATTLE: Oh, I don't say that. If I could make as much by poetry as I can by betting I don't say I wouldn't try the poetry touch, only---- DE REVES: Only what? PRATTLE: Oh, I don't know. Only there seems more sense in betting, somehow. DE REVES: Well, yes. I suppose it's easier to tell what an earthly horse is going to do, than to tell what Pegasus---- PRATTLE: What's Pegasus? DE REVES: Oh, the winged horse of poets. PRATTLE: I say! You don't believe in a winged horse, do you? DE REVES: In our trade we believe in all fabulous things. They all represent some large truth to us. An emblem like Pegasus is as real a thing to a poet as a Derby winner would be to you. PRATTLE: I say. (Give me a cigarette. Thanks.) What? Then you'd believe in nymphs and fauns, and Pan, and all those kind of birds? DE REVES: Yes. Yes. In all of them. PRATTLE: Good Lord! DE REVES: You believe in the Lord Mayor of London, don't you? PRATTLE: Yes, of course; but what has---- DE REVES: Four million people or so made him Lord Mayor, didn't they? And he represents to them the wealth and dignity and tradition of---- PRATTLE: Yes; but, I say, what has all this---- DE REVES: Well, he stands for an idea to them, and they made him Lord Mayor, and so he is one.... PRATTLE: Well, of course he is. DE REVES: In the same way Pan has been made what he is by millions; by millions to whom he represents world-old traditions. PRATTLE (_rising from his chair and stepping backwards, laughing and looking at the_ POET _in a kind of assumed wonder_): I say ... I say ... You old heathen ... but Good Lord ... [_He bumps into the high screen behind, pushing it back a little._ DE REVES: Look out! Look out! PRATTLE: What? What's the matter? DE REVES: The screen! PRATTLE: Oh, sorry, yes. I'll put it right. [_He is about to go round behind it._ DE REVES: No, don't go round there. PRATTLE: What? Why not? DE REVES: Oh, you wouldn't understand. PRATTLE: Wouldn't understand? Why, what have you got? DE REVES: Oh, one of those things.... You wouldn't understand. PRATTLE: Of course I'd understand. Let's have a look. [_The_ POET _walks towards_ PRATTLE _and the screen. He protests no further._ PRATTLE _looks round the corner of the screen._ An altar. DE REVES (_removing the screen altogether_): That is all. What do you make of it? [_An altar of Greek design, shaped like a pedestal, is revealed. Papers litter the floor all about it._ PRATTLE: I say--you always were an untidy devil. DE REVES: Well, what do you make of it? PRATTLE: It reminds me of your room at Eton. DE REVES: My room at Eton? PRATTLE: Yes, you always had papers all over your floor. DE REVES: Oh, yes---- PRATTLE: And what are these? DE REVES: All these are poems; and this is my altar to Fame. PRATTLE: To Fame? DE REVES: The same that Homer knew. PRATTLE: Good Lord!