I see no table is laid here. [Acidly.] But probably you have an equally spacious dining-hall adjoining this?
Horace.
Yes. That is,—probably, you know. I mean, it's quite possible.
[The curtains of the arch on left of centre arch are drawn.
Professor Futvoye.
Do you mean to tell me you haven't settled yet where we are to dine?
Horace.
[At a loss for an instant, then he suddenly sees the slaves enter from the arch on left, bearing a low round table, which they place in the centre of the hall.] Oh, we dine here, of course!—here. I—I leave it to these fellows.
[Four of the slaves fetch cushions and arrange them as seats around the table, the Chief Slave directing them.
Pringle.