(The Hama-dryads cease dancing and drift out of the window, followed by the fawn. An English minister, once of St. Giles, Circenster, who died in 1631, a monk of the Thebaid, A. D. 300, and three priests of Isis, B. C. 2840, enter, each independently of the others. On detecting the odour of reverence they visualize themselves to themselves as servitors of their respective earthly religions—the Egyptians in their winged hoods, the monk of the Thebaid in his high pointed cowl, the Rector of St. Giles in his broad-brimmed hat with the high conical crown, knee-length coat, and heavy, silver-buttoned shoes.) THE MINISTER (to himself). An unhappy costume, yet it is all that identifies me with my former earthly self, or with life. (He notes the Egyptians and the monk, but pays no attention to them for the moment). FIRST PRIEST OF ISIS (to his brothers). A house of worship. How the awe of man persists. I thought I detected the rhythm of melody here. SECOND PRIEST (tall and severely garbed, yet in the rich colors of his order). And I. It is melody. I feel the waves. THIRD PRIEST (signing in the direction of the organist). There is the musician. He is arranging something. And here is a very present reminder of one of our earthly stupidities. We worshiped the forerunner of that in our day. (He motions to the church cat who strolls by with great dignity. They smile). THE CAT (surveying them with indifferent eyes). At least I am alive. FIRST PRIEST (a master of astrology). Small comfort. You will be dead within the year. I see the rock that ends you. Then no more airs for you. THE MONK OF THE THEBAID (to himself). This is a religious edifice—heavily material and of small pomp—christian, possibly. That spirit yonder (he surveys the minister of St. Giles) was also a priest of sorts, I take it, and these three Egyptians—how they strut! They give themselves airs because of the thin memory of them and of their rites that endures in the world. THE MINISTER OF ST. GILES (surveying the monk). A sombre flagellant. I wonder has he outgrown his earthly illusion. (He approaches). Brother, do I not meet an emancipated spirit? THE MONK. You do. Centuries of observation have taught me what earthly search could not. I smile at the folly of this. (He waves an inclusive hand about him). THE MINISTER. And I, I also—though I was of stern faith in my day, and of this very creed—even now I suspect some discoverable power worthy of worship. My mere persistence causes me to wonder though it does not explain itself.