Germsell.  Pardon me, you do not possess them, Mr Fussle.

Lady Fritterly.  Mr Fussle, might I ask you to take this cup of tea to Mrs Allmash?  Mr Germsell, it would be too kind of you to hand Mrs Gloring the cake.

Fussle [savagely].  We will continue this conversation at the Minerva.

Mrs Allmash [apart to the Khoja].  Oh, Mr Allyside, I am so glad to hear that you speak English so perfectly!  I want you to tell me all about your religion; perhaps it may help us, you know, to find the religion of the future, which we are all longing for.  And I am so interested in oriental religions! there is something so charmingly picturesque about them.  I quite dote on those dear old Shastras, and Vedas, and Puranas; they contain such a lot of beautiful things, you know.

Ali Seyyid.  I know as little, madam, of the Indian books you mention as I do of the Bible, which I have always heard was a very good book, and contained also a great many beautiful things.  I am neither a Hindoo nor a Buddhist,—­in fact, it is forbidden to me by my religion to tell you exactly what I am.

Mrs Allmash.  But indeed I won’t tell anybody if you will only confide in me.  Oh, this mystery is too exquisitely delicious!  Who knows, perhaps you might make a convert of me?

Ali Seyyid [with an admiring gaze].  Madam, you would be a prize so well worth winning, that you almost tempt me.  The first of our secrets is that we are all things to all men, until we are quite sure of the sympathy of the listener; then we venture a step further.

Mrs Allmash.  How wise that is! and how unlike the system adopted by Christians!  You may be sure of my most entire sympathy.

Ali Seyyid.  The next principle is—­but this is a profound secret, which you must promise not to repeat—­the rejection of all fixed rules of religion or morality.  It really does not matter in the least what you do:  the internal disposition is the only thing of any value.  Now, as far as I understand, you have already got rid of the religion, or you would not be looking for a new one; all you have to do is to get rid of the morality, and there you are.

Mrs Allmash [with an expression of horror and alarm].  Yes, there I should be indeed.  Oh, Mr Allyside, what a dreadful man you are!  Who started such an extraordinary doctrine?

Ali Seyyid.  Well, his name was Hassan-bin-Saba—­commonly known among Westerns as the “Old Man of the Mountain.”  His followers, owing to the value they attached to murder as a remedial agent, have been known by the name of the “Assassins.”

Mrs Allmash.  Oh, good gracious!

Lady Fritterly.  My dear Louisa, what is the matter?  You look quite frightened.

Ali Seyyid.  Mrs Allmash is a little alarmed because I proposed a new morality for the future, as well as a new religion.