OORANDER (stroking his beard and regarding the second beggar)
Strange. Strange, certainly.
AGMAR
Is it then strange that the gods love roasted flesh? For this purpose they keep the lightning. When the lightning flickers about the limbs of men there comes to the gods in Marma a pleasant smell, even a smell of roasting. Sometimes the gods, being pacific, are pleased to have roasted instead the flesh of lamb. It is all one to the gods; let the roasting stop.
OORANDER
No, no, gods of the mountains!
OTHERS
No, no.
OORANDER
Quick, let us offer the flesh to them. If they eat, all is well.