"Charming," agreed Doctor Volospion. "You should be flattered, Miss Ming."

"What? Because he hasn't seen another woman in a thousand years?"

Doctor Volospion smiled. "You do yourself discredit."

The stranger did not seem upset by the lack of immediate effect he had on them. He turned grave, intense eyes upon her. Mavis Ming might have blushed. He spoke with thrilling authority, for all his pre-pubescent pitch:

"Beautiful and proud you may be, woman, yet you shall bend to me when the time comes. You shall not then react with callow cynicism."

"I think you've got rather old-fashioned ideas about women, my friend," said Miss Ming staunchly.

"Your true soul is buried now. But I shall reveal it to you."

The sky began to clear. A flock of transparent pteranodons sailed unsteadily overhead, fleeing the sun. Miss Ming pretended an interest in the flying creatures. But it was plain that the stranger had her attention.

"I am Life," he said, "and you are Death."

"Well…" she began, offended.

He explained: "At this moment everything is Death that is not me."

"I'm beginning to pity you," said Mavis Ming in an artificial voice. "It's obvious that you've been so long in space, whatever your name is, that you've gone completely mad!" She made nervous tuggings and pullings at her costume. "And if you're trying to scare me, or turn my stomach, or make fun of me, I can assure you that I've dealt with much tougher customers than you in my time. All right?"

"So," he said, in tones meant only for her, "your mind resists me. Your training resists me. Your mother and your father and your society resist me. Perhaps even your body resists me. But your soul does not. Your soul listens. Your soul pines for me. How many years have you refused to listen to its promptings? How many years of discomfort, of sorrow, of depravity and degradation? How many nights have you battled against your dreams and your true desires? Soon you shall kneel before me and know your own power, your own strength."

Miss Ming took a deep breath. She looked to Doctor Volospion for help, but his expression was bland, mildly curious. Abu Thaleb seemed only embarrassed.

"Listen, you," she said, "where I come from women have had the vote for 150 years. They've had equal rights for almost 100. There are probably more women in administrative jobs than there are men and more than 50 percent of all leading politicians are women, and when I left we hadn't had a big war for ten years, and we know all about dictators, sexual chauvinists and old-fashioned seducers. I did a History of Sexism course as part of my post-graduate studies, so I know what I'm talking about."

He listened attentively enough to all this before replying. "You speak of Rights and Precedents, woman. You refer to Choice and Education. But what if these are the very chains which enslave the spirit? I offer you neither security nor responsibility — save the security of knowing your own identity and the responsibility of maintaining it. I offer you Dignity."

Miss Ming opened her mouth.

"I note that you are a romantic, sir," said Doctor Volospion with some relish.

The stranger no longer seemed aware of his presence, but continued to stare at Mavis Ming who frowned and cast about in her troubled skull for appropriate defence. She failed and instead sought the aid of her protector.

"Can we go now?" she whispered to Doctor Volospion. "He might do something dangerous."

Doctor Volospion lowered his voice only a trifle. "If my reading of our friend's character is correct, he shares a preference with all those of his type for words and dramatic but unspecific actions. I find him quite stimulating. You know my interests…"

"Do not reject my gifts, woman," warned the stranger. "Others have offered you Liberty (if that is what it is) but I offer you nothing less than yourself — your whole self."

Miss Ming tried to bridle and, unsuccessful, turned away. "Really, Doctor Volospion," she began urgently, "I've had enough…"

Abu Thaleb attempted intercession. "Sir, we have few established customs, though we have enjoyed and continue to enjoy many fashions in manners, but it would seem to me that, since you are a guest in our Age…"

"Guest!" The little man was astonished. "I am not your guest, sir, I am your Saviour."

"Be that as it may…"

"There is no more to be said. There is no question of my calling!"

"Be that as it may, you are disturbing this lady, who is not of our time and is therefore perhaps more sensitive to your remarks than if she were, um, indigenous to the Age. I think 'stress' is the word I seek, though I am not too certain of how 'stress' manifests itself. Miss Ming?" He begged for illumination.

"He's a pain in the neck, if that's what you mean," said Miss Ming boldly. "But you get used to that here." She drew herself up.

"As a gentleman, sir —" continued Abu Thaleb.

"Gentleman? I have never claimed to be a 'gentleman'. Unless by that you mean I am a man — a throbbing, ardent, lover of women — of one woman, now — of that woman!" His quivering finger pointed.

Miss Ming turned her back full on him and clambered into Abu Thaleb's howdah. She sat, stiff-necked, upon the cushions, her arms folded in front of her.

The stranger smiled almost tenderly. "Ah, she is so beautiful! So feminine! Ah!"

"Doctor Volospion," Miss Ming's voice was flat and cold. "I should like to go home now."

Doctor Volospion laughed.

"Nonsense, my dear Miss Ming." He bowed a fraction to the stranger, as if to apologize. "It has been an eternity since we entertained such a glorious guest. I am eager to hear his views. You know my interest in ancient religions — my collection, my menagerie, my investigations — well, here we have a genuine prophet." A deeper bow to the stranger. "A preacher who shows Li Pao up for the parsimonious hair-splitter that he is. If we are to be berated for our sins, then let it be full-bloodedly, with threats of fire and brimstone!"

"I said nothing of brimstone," said the stranger.

"Forgive me."

Miss Ming leaned from the howdah to put her lips to Doctor Volospion's ear. "You think he's genuine, then?"

He stroked his chin. "Your meaning is misty, Miss Ming."

"Oh, I give up," she said. "It's all right for everybody else, but that madman's more or less announced his firm decision to rape me at the earliest opportunity."

"Nonsense," objected Doctor Volospion. "He has been nothing but chivalrous."

"It would be like being raped by a pigeon," she added. She withdrew into herself.

Doctor Volospion's last glance in her direction was calculating but when he next addressed the stranger he was all hospitality. "Your own introduction, sir, has been perhaps a mite vague. May I be more specific in my presentation of myself and my friends. This lovely lady, whose beauty has understandably made such an impression upon you, is Miss Mavis Ming. This gentleman is Abu Thaleb, Commissar of Bengal —"

"— and Lord of All Elephants," modestly appended the commissar.

"— while I, your humble servant, am called Doctor Volospion. I think we share similar tastes, for I have long studied the religions and the faiths of the past and judge myself something of a connoisseur of Belief. You would be interested, I think, in my collection, and I would greatly value your inspection of it for, in truth, there are few fellow-spirits in this world-weary Age of ours."

The stranger's red lips formed a haughty smile. "I am no theologian, Doctor Volospion. At least, only in the sense that I am, of course, All Things…"

"Of course, of course, but —"

"And I see you for a trickster, a poseur."

"I assure you —"

"I know you for a poor ghost of a creature, seeking in bad casuistry, to give a dead mind some semblance of life. You are cold, sir, and the cruelties by means of which you attempt to warm your own blood are petty things, the products of a niggardly imagination and some small, but ill-trained, intelligence. Only the generous can be truly cruel for they know also what it is to be truly charitable."