THE MONK. Nor does mine to me, nor the persistence of their seeming reality to them. (He points through the transparent walls of the church to where outside moving streams of shadows—automobiles, belated wagons, and pedestrians are to be seen—and to the lovers). Yet there is no answer. They have their faith, futile as it is. A greater darkness has fallen on you and me. Endless persistence for us if we must, let us say, but merging at last into what? THE MINISTER. And when I died I imagined I should meet my maker face to face. THE MONK (smiling). And I the same. And they,—(he nods toward the Egyptians),—their gods were as real to them,—shadows all, of the unknowable. THE ORGANIST (plunging into the sub-theme which speedily dies off into unfathomable mysteries of dark notes and tones). I wonder if I’m boring them by this heavy stuff. Still what do I care. There are only four. (Nevertheless he fuses the Grail motif to the dance of the flower maidens). THE BOY. Isn’t it lovely! THE GIRL. Perfect! THE ORGANIST. Lovely and very difficult. These pedals are working rather stiffly,—and that automobile has to honk just now. (He fingers lightly three notes of a major key indicative of woodland echoes and faint bird notes. Re-enter the barrel house bum who is seeking anything that will amuse him). THE BUM. Still playing! And there are those two old stuffs of women. Not an idea between ’em. (He turns to go but catches sight of_ _the monk and the Egyptians. Pauses, and then turns back). THE MONK. Soothing harmonies these! More strange combinations, the reason for which we cannot guess, the joy and beauty of which we know. I find earthly harmonies very grateful. But then, why? (He and the priest forget their quondam materiality for a moment and disappear from sight; recovering themselves as shadows only by thinking). THE BUM (staring interrogatively and irritatingly at the monk and the Egyptians, who, however, pay not the slightest attention to him). You thought you knew somepin’ when you were alive, didn’jah? You thought you were smart, huh? You thought you’d find out somepin’ when yuh died, huh? Well, yuh got fooled didn’jah? You’re like all the other stuffs that walk about and think they know a lot. Yuh got left. Har! Har! Har! (He chortles vibrantly). I know as much as you fellers, and I’ve only been dead a dozen years. There aint no answer! Har! Har! Har! There aint no answer! An’ here you are floatin’ aroun’ in them things! (He indicates their dress). Oh, ho, ho ho! (He grins maliciously and executes a crude clog step). THE MONK (repugnantly and pulling his cowl aside). Away, vile creature—unregenerate soul! Has even the nothingness of materiality taught you nothing?