all to do?

BURGE-LUBIN. Anything to do! Have you forgotten, Barnabas, that I happen
to be President, and that the weight of the entire public business of
this country is on my shoulders?

BARNABAS. Has he anything to do, Confucius?

CONFUCIUS. He has to be President.

BARNABAS. That means that he has nothing to do.

BURGE-LUBIN [_sulkily_] Very well, Barnabas. Go on making a fool of
yourself. [_He sits down_]. Go on.

BARNABAS. I am not going to leave this room until we get to the bottom
of this swindle.

MRS LUTESTRING [_turning with deadly gravity on the Accountant General_]
This what, did you say?

CONFUCIUS. These expressions cannot be sustained. You obscure the
discussion in using them.

BARNABAS [_glad to escape from her gaze by addressing Confucius_] Well,
this unnatural horror. Will that satisfy you?

CONFUCIUS. That is in order. But we do not commit ourselves to the
implications of the word horror.

THE ARCHBISHOP. By the word horror the Accountant General means only
something unusual.

CONFUCIUS. I notice that the honorable Domestic Minister, on learning
the advanced age of the venerable prelate, shews no sign of surprise or
incredulity.

BURGE-LUBIN. She doesn't take it seriously. Who would? Eh, Mrs
Lutestring?

MRS LUTESTRING. I take it very seriously indeed, Mr President. I see now
that I was not mistaken at first. I have met the Archbishop before.

THE ARCHBISHOP. I felt sure of it. This vision of a door opening to me,
and a woman's face welcoming me, must be a reminiscence of something
that really happened; though I see it now as an angel opening the gate
of heaven.

MRS LUTESTRING. Or a parlor maid opening the door of the house of the
young woman you were in love with?

THE ARCHBISHOP [_making a wry face_] Is that the reality? How these
things grow in our imagination! But may I say, Mrs Lutestring, that the
transfiguration of a parlor maid to an angel is not more amazing than
her transfiguration to the very dignified and able Domestic Minister I
am addressing. I recognize the angel in you. Frankly, I do not recognize
the parlor maid.

BURGE-LUBIN. Whats a parlor maid?

MRS LUTESTRING. An extinct species. A woman in a black dress and white
apron, who opened the house door when people knocked or rang, and was
either your tyrant or your slave. I was a parlor maid in the house of
one of the Accountant General's remote ancestors. [_To Confucius_] You
asked me my age, Mr Chief Secre