PAUL:  No—­for then, I’m afraid I wouldn’t be in heaven.  What was that song?

ROSE:  An old Persian poet taught me the words.

PAUL:  (Ardently.) Oh, how I love—­those words.  Are you going back to America with Mr. and Mrs. Schuyler?

ROSE:  (Sadly.) No, I must stay here in Persia.

PAUL:  (Forgetting himself.) Hooray!

ROSE:  Ah—­but you don’t know.

PAUL:  Know what?

ROSE:  Don’t ask me now—­good day, sir. (She courtesies and runs off.)

(Music in orchestra stops.)

PAUL:  I wonder what she meant by that?

PHIL:  (Rushing on.) I’ve taken out your things.  Now, may I eat? 
(Persian servant enters in haste.)

SERVANT:  Oh please, sir, the Sheik has drunk three cocktails, and Mrs. Schuyler says he is disgusting.  Quick, get someone to take him home.

PAUL:  Phil—­do you hear?  The Sheik’s disgusting—­take him home. 
(Servants exit.)

PHIL:  (As he exits.) Is there any little thing I can do for you?

PAUL:  Not just now. (PHIL exits.) The melody of that song haunts me. (He starts to hum it.) (PHIL enters with SHEIK on his shoulders—­struggles to get him off.  Finally exits with him.  As he exits, MRS. SCHUYLER enters first arch.)

MRS. SCHUYLER:  I hope he gets the old fool home, all right. (Sees PAUL.) Oho—­it looks good to mother. (Business of humming same song.)

PAUL:  (Turning and seeing her, with great surprise.) Agnes!

MRS. SCHUYLER:  (Startled.) Mercy, where was I Agnes?

PAUL:  (Crosses to MRS. SCHUYLER.) Have you forgotten—­the summer
I met you in Niagara Falls?

MRS. SCHUYLER:  Niagara Falls?  I must have been on one of my honeymoons—­oh, yes—­of course—­Mr. Morgan. (They shake hands.) You see, I’ve met so many mushy men. (He sighs.) What makes you look so unhappy?

PAUL:  I’m in love with a girl.

MRS. SCHUYLER:  Only one?  Why so economical?

PAUL:  Ah—­I’m afraid you don’t know what real love is.

MRS. SCHUYLER:  Oh, yes I do!  Real love is the kind that lasts after you’ve heard a man sleeping right out loud.  Who’s the girl?

PAUL:  Miss Madison.

MRS. SCHUYLER:  (Surprised.) Our Rose?  Not on your life.  To-morrow, before we return to America, she’s to marry the Abu Mirzah, and nothing can prevent it.

PAUL:  (In horror.) She’s being sacrificed to that old mummy—­I’ll kill him.

MRS. SCHUYLER:  The doctors say he is so strong, nothing can kill him, except his fondness for Persian plums, and there is a mandate out inflicting death upon any man who sends him any. (ROSE enters.)

PAUL:  (Crossing to her.) Oh, Miss Madison, I’ve just heard—­

MRS. SCHUYLER:  Rose—­go to the grape arbor at once—­I’ll join you there presently. (DUDLEY enters.)