StoriesPoetry.com Home Collection of Stories Famous Stories Short Stories Wales Poetry Yiddish Tales

Stories

The Jade Despoiled
By Messire Chrestien De Dygoigne. _Of a married man who fo...

Necessity Is The Mother Of Invention
By Monseigneur De Commensuram. _Of a gentleman of Picardy ...

The Backslider
There was much stir and commotion on the night of Thursday,...

The Three Reminders
By Monseigneur De La Roche. _Of three counsels that a fath...

Two Lovers For One Lady
By Monseigneur De La Barde. _Of a squire who found the mul...

Between Two Stools
By Monseigneur De Waurin. _Of a noble knight who was in lo...

Love In Arms
By Monseigneur De La Roche. _Of a knight who made his wife...

Montbleru; Or The Thief
By G. De Montbleru. _Of one named Montbleru, who at a fair...

The Considerate Cuckold
By Monseigneur Le Duc. _Of a knight of Picardy, who lodged...

The Abbess Cured [21]
By Philippe De Laon. _Of an abbess who was ill for want of...

The Husband As Doctor
By Philippe De Laon. _Of a young squire of Champagne who, ...

An Episode In High Life
Sir Henry Vardon, K.C.B., electrician to the Admiralty, who...

The Three Cordeliers
By Monsigneur De Beauvoir _Of three merchants of Savoy who...

The Obliging Brother
By Monsieur De Villiers. _Of a damsel who married a shephe...

The Lost Ass Found
By Michault De Changy. _Of a good man of Bourbonnais who w...

Our Scientific Observations On A Ghost
"Then nothing would convince you of the existence of ghosts...

Foolish Fear
By Monseigneur Philippe Vignier. _Of a young man of Rouen,...

The Cow And The Calf
By Monseigneur _Of a gentleman to whom--the first night th...

The Child With Two Fathers
By Caron. _Of a gentleman who seduced a young girl, and th...

Forced Willingly
By Philippe De Saint-Yon. _Of a girl who complained of bei...



My New Years Eve Among The Mummies








I have been a wanderer and a vagabond on the face of the earth for a
good many years now, and I have certainly had some odd adventures in my
time; but I can assure you, I never spent twenty-four queerer hours than
those which I passed some twelve months since in the great unopened
Pyramid of Abu Yilla.

The way I got there was itself a very strange one. I had come to Egypt
for a winter tour with the Fitz-Simkinses, to whose daughter Editha I
was at that precise moment engaged. You will probably remember that old
Fitz-Simkins belonged originally to the wealthy firm of Simkinson and
Stokoe, worshipful vintners; but when the senior partner retired from
the business and got his knighthood, the College of Heralds opportunely
discovered that his ancestors had changed their fine old Norman name for
its English equivalent some time about the reign of King Richard I.; and
they immediately authorized the old gentleman to resume the patronymic
and the armorial bearings of his distinguished forefathers. It's really
quite astonishing how often these curious coincidences crop up at the
College of Heralds.

Of course it was a great catch for a landless and briefless barrister
like myself--dependent on a small fortune in South American securities,
and my precarious earnings as a writer of burlesque--to secure such a
valuable prospective property as Editha Fitz-Simkins. To be sure, the
girl was undeniably plain; but I have known plainer girls than she was,
whom forty thousand pounds converted into My Ladies: and if Editha
hadn't really fallen over head and ears in love with me, I suppose old
Fitz-Simkins would never have consented to such a match. As it was,
however, we had flirted so openly and so desperately during the
Scarborough season, that it would have been difficult for Sir Peter to
break it off: and so I had come to Egypt on a tour of insurance to
secure my prize, following in the wake of my future mother-in-law, whose
lungs were supposed to require a genial climate--though in my private
opinion they were really as creditable a pair of pulmonary appendages as
ever drew breath.

Nevertheless, the course of our true love did not run so smoothly as
might have been expected. Editha found me less ardent than a devoted
squire should be; and on the very last night of the old year she got up
a regulation lovers' quarrel, because I had sneaked away from the boat
that afternoon, under the guidance of our dragoman, to witness the
seductive performances of some fair Ghawazi, the dancing girls of a
neighbouring town. How she found it out heaven only knows, for I gave
that rascal Dimitri five piastres to hold his tongue: but she did find
it out somehow, and chose to regard it as an offence of the first
magnitude: a mortal sin only to be expiated by three days of penance and
humiliation.

I went to bed that night, in my hammock on deck, with feelings far from
satisfactory. We were moored against the bank at Abu Yilla, the most
pestiferous hole between thee cataracts and the Delta. Tho mosquitoes
were worse than the ordinary mosquitoes of Egypt, and that is saying a
great deal. The heat was oppressive even at night, and the malaria from
the lotus beds rose like a palpable mist before my eyes. Above all, I
was getting doubtful whether Editha Fitz-Simkins might not after all
slip between my fingers. I felt wretched and feverish: and yet I had
delightful interlusive recollections, in between, of that lovely little
Ghaziyah, who danced that exquisite, marvellous, entrancing, delicious,
and awfully oriental dance that I saw in the afternoon.

By Jove, she was a beautiful creature. Eyes like two full moons; hair
like Milton's Penseroso; movements like a poem of Swinburne's set to
action. If Editha was only a faint picture of that girl now! Upon my
word, I was falling in love with a Ghaziyah!

Then the mosquitoes came again. Buzz--buzz--buzz. I make a lunge at the
loudest and biggest, a sort of prima donna in their infernal opera. I
kill the prima donna, but ten more shrill performers come in its place.
The frogs croak dismally in the reedy shallows. The night grows hotter
and hotter still. At last, I can stand it no longer. I rise up, dress
myself lightly, and jump ashore to find some way of passing the time.

Yonder, across the flat, lies the great unopened Pyramid of Abu Yilla.
We are going to-morrow to climb to the top; but I will take a turn to
reconnoitre in that direction now. I walk across the moonlit fields, my
soul still divided between Editha and the Ghaziyah, and approach the
solemn mass of huge, antiquated granite-blocks standing out so grimly
against the pale horizon. I feel half awake, half asleep, and altogether
feverish: but I poke about the base in an aimless sort of way, with a
vague idea that I may perhaps discover by chance the secret of its
sealed entrance, which has ere now baffled so many pertinacious
explorers and learned Egyptologists.

As I walk along the base, I remember old Herodotus's story, like a page
from the "Arabian Nights," of how King Rhampsinitus built himself a
treasury, wherein one stone turned on a pivot like a door; and how the
builder availed himself of this his cunning device to steal gold from
the king's storehouse. Suppose the entrance to the unopened Pyramid
should be by such a door. It would be curious if I should chance to
light upon the very spot.

I stood in the broad moonlight, near the north-east angle of the great
pile, at the twelfth stone from the corner. A random fancy struck me,
that I might turn this stone by pushing it inward on the left side. I
leant against it with all my weight, and tried to move it on the
imaginary pivot. Did it give way a fraction of an inch? No, it must have
been mere fancy. Let me try again. Surely it is yielding! Gracious
Osiris, it has moved an inch or more! My heart beats fast, either with
fever or excitement, and I try a third time. The rust of centuries on
the pivot wears slowly off, and the stone turns ponderously round,
giving access to a low dark passage.

It must have been madness which led me to enter the forgotten corridor,
alone, without torch or match, at that hour of the evening; but at any
rate I entered. The passage was tall enough for a man to walk erect, and
I could feel, as I groped slowly along, that the wall was composed of
smooth polished granite, while the floor sloped away downward with a
slight but regular descent. I walked with trembling heart and faltering
feet for some forty or fifty yards down the mysterious vestibule: and
then I felt myself brought suddenly to a standstill by a block of stone
placed right across the pathway. I had had nearly enough for one
evening, and I was preparing to return to the boat, agog with my new
discovery, when my attention was suddenly arrested by an incredible, a
perfectly miraculous fact.

The block of stone which barred the passage was faintly visible as a
square, by means of a struggling belt of light streaming through the
seams. There must be a lamp or other flame burning within. What if this
were a door like the outer one, leading into a chamber perhaps
inhabited by some dangerous band of outcasts? The light was a sure
evidence of human occupation: and yet the outer door swung rustily on
its pivot as though it had never been opened for ages. I paused a moment
in fear before I ventured to try the stone: and then, urged on once more
by some insane impulse, I turned the massive block with all my might to
the left. It gave way slowly like its neighbour, and finally opened into
the central hall.

Never as long as I live shall I forget the ecstasy of terror,
astonishment, and blank dismay which seized upon me when I stepped into
that seemingly enchanted chamber. A blaze of light first burst upon my
eyes, from jets of gas arranged in regular rows tier above tier, upon
the columns and walls of the vast apartment. Huge pillars, richly
painted with red, yellow, blue, and green decorations, stretched in
endless succession down the dazzling aisles. A floor of polished syenite
reflected the splendour of the lamps, and afforded a base for red
granite sphinxes and dark purple images in porphyry of the cat-faced
goddess Pasht, whose form I knew so well at the Louvre and the British
Museum. But I had no eyes for any of these lesser marvels, being wholly
absorbed in the greatest marvel of all: for there, in royal state and
with mitred head, a living Egyptian king, surrounded by his coiffured
court, was banqueting in the flesh upon a real throne, before a table
laden with Memphian delicacies!

I stood transfixed with awe and amazement, my tongue and my feet alike
forgetting their office, and my brain whirling round and round, as I
remember it used to whirl when my health broke down utterly at Cambridge
after the Classical Tripos. I gazed fixedly at the strange picture
before me, taking in all its details in a confused way, yet quite
incapable of understanding or realizing any part of its true import. I
saw the king in the centre of the hall, raised on a throne of granite
inlaid with gold and ivory; his head crowned with the peaked cap of
Rameses, and his curled hair flowing down his shoulders in a set and
formal frizz. I saw priests and warriors on either side, dressed in the
costumes which I had often carefully noted in our great collections;
while bronze-skinned maids, with light garments round their waists, and
limbs displayed in graceful picturesqueness, waited upon them, half
nude, as in the wall paintings which we had lately examined at Karnak
and Syene. I saw the ladies, clothed from head to foot in dyed linen
garments, sitting apart in the background, banqueting by themselves at a
separate table; while dancing girls, like older representatives of my
yesternoon friends, the Ghawazi, tumbled before them in strange
attitudes, to the music of four-stringed harps and long straight pipes.
In short, I beheld as in a dream the whole drama of everyday Egyptian
royal life, playing itself out anew under my eyes, in its real original
properties and personages.

Gradually, as I looked, I became aware that my hosts were no less
surprised at the appearance of their anachronistic guest than was the
guest himself at the strange living panorama which met his eyes. In a
moment music and dancing ceased; the banquet paused in its course, and
the king and his nobles stood up in undisguised astonishment to survey
the strange intruder.

Some minutes passed before any one moved forward on either side. At last
a young girl of royal appearance, yet strangely resembling the Ghaziyah
of Abu Yilla, and recalling in part the laughing maiden in the
foreground of Mr. Long's great canvas at the previous Academy, stepped
out before the throng.

"May I ask you," she said in Ancient Egyptian, "who you are, and why you
come hither to disturb us?"

I was never aware before that I spoke or understood the language of the
hieroglyphics: yet I found I had not the slightest difficulty in
comprehending or answering her question. To say the truth, Ancient
Egyptian, though an extremely tough tongue to decipher in its written
form, becomes as easy as love-making when spoken by a pair of lips like
that Pharaonic princess's. It is really very much the same as English,
pronounced in a rapid and somewhat indefinite whisper, and with all the
vowels left out.

"I beg ten thousand pardons for my intrusion," I answered
apologetically; "but I did not know that this Pyramid was inhabited, or
I should not have entered your residence so rudely. As for the points
you wish to know, I am an English tourist, and you will find my name
upon this card;" saying which I handed her one from the case which I had
fortunately put into my pocket, with conciliatory politeness. The
princess examined it closely, but evidently did not understand its
import.

"In return," I continued, "may I ask you in what august presence I now
find myself by accident?"

A court official stood forth from the throng, and answered in a set
heraldic tone: "In the presence of the illustrious monarch, Brother of
the Sun, Thothmes the Twenty-seventh, king of the Eighteenth Dynasty."

"Salute the Lord of the World," put in another official in the same
regulation drone.

I bowed low to his Majesty, and stepped out into the hall. Apparently my
obeisance did not come up to Egyptian standards of courtesy, for a
suppressed titter broke audibly from the ranks of bronze-skinned
waiting-women. But the king graciously smiled at my attempt, and turning
to the nearest nobleman, observed in a voice of great sweetness and
self-contained majesty: "This stranger, Ombos, is certainly a very
curious person. His appearance does not at all resemble that of an
Ethiopian or other savage, nor does he look like the pale-faced sailors
who come to us from the Achaian land beyond the sea. His features, to be
sure, are not very different from theirs; but his extraordinary and
singularly inartistic dress shows him to belong to some other barbaric
race."

I glanced down at my waistcoat, and saw that I was wearing my tourist's
check suit, of grey and mud colour, with which a Bond Street tailor had
supplied me just before leaving town, as the latest thing out in fancy
tweeds. Evidently these Egyptians must have a very curious standard of
taste not to admire our pretty and graceful style of male attire.

"If the dust beneath your Majesty's feet may venture upon a suggestion,"
put in the officer whom the king had addressed, "I would hint that this
young man is probably a stray visitor from the utterly uncivilized lands
of the North. The head-gear which he carries in his hand obviously
betrays an Arctic habitat."

I had instinctively taken off my round felt hat in the first moment of
surprise, when I found myself in the midst of this strange throng, and I
standing now in a somewhat embarrassed posture, holding it awkwardly
before me like a shield to protect my chest.

"Let the stranger cover himself," said the king.

"Barbarian intruder, cover yourself," cried the herald. I noticed
throughout that the king never directly addressed anybody save the
higher officials around him.

I put on my hat as desired. "A most uncomfortable and silly form of
tiara indeed," said the great Thothmes.

"Very unlike your noble and awe-spiring mitre, Lion of Egypt," answered
Ombos.

"Ask the stranger his name," the king continued.

It was useless to offer another card, so I mentioned it in a clear
voice.

"An uncouth and almost unpronounceable designation truly," commented his
Majesty to the Grand Chamberlain beside him. "These savages speak
strange languages, widely different from the flowing tongue of Memnon
and Sesostris."

The chamberlain bowed his assent with three low genuflexions. I began to
feel a little abashed at these personal remarks, and I almost think
(though I shouldn't like it to be mentioned in the Temple) that a blush
rose to my cheek.

The beautiful princess, who had been standing near me meanwhile in an
attitude of statuesque repose, now appeared anxious to change the
current of the conversation. "Dear father," she said with a respectful
inclination, "surely the stranger, barbarian though he be, cannot relish
such pointed allusions to his person and costume. We must let him feel
the grace and delicacy of Egyptian refinement. Then he may perhaps carry
back with him some faint echo of its cultured beauty to his northern
wilds."

"Nonsense, Hatasou," replied Thothmes XXVII. testily. "Savages have no
feelings, and they are as incapable of appreciating Egyptian sensibility
as the chattering crow is incapable of attaining the dignified reserve
of the sacred crocodile."

"Your Majesty is mistaken," I said, recovering my self-possession
gradually and realizing my position as a free-born Englishman before the
court of a foreign despot--though I must allow that I felt rather less
confident than usual, owing to the fact that we were not represented in
the Pyramid by a British Consul--"I am an English tourist, a visitor
from a modern land whose civilization far surpasses the rude culture of
early Egypt; and I am accustomed to respectful treatment from all other
nationalities, as becomes a citizen of the First Naval Power in the
World."

My answer created a profound impression. "He has spoken to the Brother
of the Sun," cried Ombos in evident perturbation. "He must be of the
Blood Royal in his own tribe, or he would never have dared to do so!"

"Otherwise," added a person whose dress I recognized as that of a
priest, "he must be offered up in expiation to Amon-Ra immediately."

As a rule I am a decently truthful person, but under these alarming
circumstances I ventured to tell a slight fib with an air of nonchalant
boldness. "I am a younger brother of our reigning king," I said without
a moment's hesitation; for there was nobody present to gainsay me, and I
tried to salve my conscience by reflecting that at any rate I was only
claiming consanguinity with an imaginary personage.

"In that case," said King Thothmes, with more geniality in his tone,
"there can be no impropriety in my addressing you personally. Will you
take a place at our table next to myself, and we can converse together
without interrupting a banquet which must be brief enough in any
circumstances? Hatasou, my dear, you may seat yourself next to the
barbarian prince."

I felt a visible swelling to the proper dimensions of a Royal Highness
as I sat down by the king's right hand. The nobles resumed their places,
the bronze-skinned waitresses left off standing like soldiers in a row
and staring straight at my humble self, the goblets went round once
more, and a comely maid soon brought me meat, bread, fruits, and date
wine.

All this time I was naturally burning with curiosity to inquire who my
strange hosts might be, and how they had preserved their existence for
so many centuries in this undiscovered hall; but I was obliged to wait
until I had satisfied his Majesty of my own nationality, the means by
which I had entered the Pyramid, the general state of affairs throughout
the world at the present moment, and fifty thousand other matters of a
similar sort. Thothmes utterly refused to believe my reiterated
assertion that our existing civilization was far superior to the
Egyptian; "because," said he, "I see from your dress that your nation is
utterly devoid of taste or invention;" but he listened with great
interest to my account of modern society, the steam-engine, the
Permissive Prohibitory Bill, the telegraph, the House of Commons, Home
Rule, and the other blessings of our advanced era, as well as to a brief
resume of European history from the rise of the Greek culture to the
Russo-Turkish war. At last his questions were nearly exhausted, and I
got a chance of making a few counter inquiries on my own account.

"And now," I said, turning to the charming Hatasou, whom I thought a
more pleasing informant than her august papa, "I should like to know who
you are."

"What, don't you know?" she cried with unaffected surprise. "Why, we're
mummies."

She made this astounding statement with just the same quiet
unconsciousness as if she had said, "we're French," or "we're
Americans." I glanced round the walls, and observed behind the columns,
what I had not noticed till then--a large number of empty mummy-cases,
with their lids placed carelessly by their sides.

"But what are you doing here?" I asked in a bewildered way.

"Is it possible," said Hatasou, "that you don't really know the object
of embalming? Though your manners show you to be an agreeable and
well-bred young man, you must excuse my saying that you are shockingly
ignorant. We are made into mummies in order to preserve our immortality.
Once in every thousand years we wake up for twenty-four hours, recover
our flesh and blood, and banquet once more upon the mummied dishes and
other good things laid by for us in the Pyramid. To-day is the first day
of a millennium, and so we have waked up for the sixth time since we
were first embalmed."

"The sixth time?" I inquired incredulously. "Then you must have been
dead six thousand years."

"Exactly so."

"But the world has not yet existed so long," I cried, in a fervour of
orthodox horror.

"Excuse me, barbarian prince. This is the first day of the three
hundred and twenty-seven thousandth millennium."

My orthodoxy received a severe shock. However, I had been accustomed to
geological calculations, and was somewhat inclined to accept the
antiquity of man; so I swallowed the statement without more ado.
Besides, if such a charming girl as Hatasou had asked me at that moment
to turn Mohammedan, or to worship Osiris, I believe I should
incontinently have done so.

"You wake up only for a single day and night, then?" I said.

"Only for a single day and night. After that, we go to sleep for another
millennium."

"Unless you are meanwhile burned as fuel on the Cairo Railway," I added
mentally. "But how," I continued aloud, "do you get these lights?"

"The Pyramid is built above a spring of inflammable gas. We have a
reservoir in one of the side chambers in which it collects during the
thousand years. As soon as we awake, we turn it on at once from the tap,
and light it with a lucifer match."

"Upon my word," I interposed, "I had no notion you Ancient Egyptians
were acquainted with the use of matches."

"Very likely not. 'There are more things in heaven and earth, Cephrenes,
than are dreamt of in your philosophy,' as the bard of Philae puts it."

Further inquiries brought out all the secrets of that strange
tomb-house, and kept me fully interested till the close of the banquet.
Then the chief priest solemnly rose, offered a small fragment of meat to
a deified crocodile, who sat in a meditative manner by the side of his
deserted mummy-case, and declared the feast concluded for the night. All
rose from their places, wandered away into the long corridors or
side-aisles, and formed little groups of talkers under the brilliant
gas-lamps.

For my part, I scrolled off with Hatasou down the least illuminated of
the colonnades, and took my seat beside a marble fountain, where several
fish (gods of great sanctity, Hatasou assured me) were disporting
themselves in a porphyry basin. How long we sat there I cannot tell, but
I know that we talked a good deal about fish, and gods, and Egyptian
habits, and Egyptian philosophy, and, above all, Egyptian love-making.
The last-named subject we found very interesting, and when once we got
fully started upon it, no diversion afterwards occurred to break the
even tenour of the conversation. Hatasou was a lovely figure, tall,
queenly, with smooth dark arms and neck of polished bronze: her big
black eyes full of tenderness, and her long hair bound up into a bright
Egyptian headdress, that harmonized to a tone with her complexion and
her robe. The more we talked, the more desperately did I fall in love,
and the more utterly oblivious did I become of my duty to Editha
Fitz-Simkins. The mere ugly daughter of a rich and vulgar brand-new
knight, forsooth, to show off her airs before me, when here was a
Princess of the Blood Royal of Egypt, obviously sensible to the
attentions which I was paying her, and not unwilling to receive them
with a coy and modest grace.

Well, I went on saying pretty things to Hatasou, and Hatasou went on
deprecating them in a pretty little way, as who should say, "I don't
mean what I pretend to mean one bit;" until at last I may confess that
we were both evidently as far gone in the disease of the heart called
love as it is possible for two young people on first acquaintance to
become. Therefore, when Hatasou pulled forth her watch--another piece of
mechanism with which antiquaries used never to credit the Egyptian
people--and declared that she had only three more hours to live, at
least for the next thousand years, I fairly broke down, took out my
handkerchief, and began to sob like a child of five years old.

Hatasou was deeply moved. Decorum forbade that she should console me
with too much empressement; but she ventured to remove the
handkerchief gently from my face, and suggested that there was yet one
course open by which we might enjoy a little more of one another's
society. "Suppose," she said quietly, "you were to become a mummy. You
would then wake up, as we do, every thousand years; and after you have
tried it once, you will find it just as natural to sleep for a
millennium as for eight hours. Of course," she added with a slight
blush, "during the next three or four solar cycles there would be plenty
of time to conclude any other arrangements you might possibly
contemplate, before the occurrence of another glacial epoch."

This mode of regarding time was certainly novel and somewhat bewildering
to people who ordinarily reckon its lapse by weeks and months; and I had
a vague consciousness that my relations with Editha imposed upon me a
moral necessity of returning to the outer world, instead of becoming a
millennial mummy. Besides, there was the awkward chance of being
converted into fuel and dissipated into space before the arrival of the
next waking day. But I took one look at Hatasou, whose eyes were filling
in turn with sympathetic tears, and that look decided me. I flung
Editha, life, and duty to the dogs, and resolved at once to become a
mummy.

There was no time to be lost. Only three hours remained to us, and the
process of embalming, even in the most hasty manner, would take up fully
two. We rushed off to the chief priest, who had charge of the particular
department in question. He at once acceded to my wishes, and briefly
explained the mode in which they usually treated the corpse.

That word suddenly aroused me. "The corpse!" I cried; "but I am alive.
You can't embalm me living."

"We can," replied the priest, "under chloroform."

"Chloroform!" I echoed, growing more and more astonished: "I had no idea
you Egyptians knew anything about it."

"Ignorant barbarian!" he answered with a curl of the lip; "you imagine
yourself much wiser than the teachers of the world. If you were versed
in all the wisdom of the Egyptians, you would know that chloroform is
one of our simplest and commonest anaesthetics."

I put myself at once under the hands of the priest. He brought out the
chloroform, and placed it beneath my nostrils, as I lay on a soft couch
under the central court. Hatasou held my hand in hers, and watched my
breathing with an anxious eye. I saw the priest leaning over me, with a
clouded phial in his hand, and I experienced a vague sensation of
smelling myrrh and spikenard. Next, I lost myself for a few moments, and
when I again recovered my senses in a temporary break, the priest was
holding a small greenstone knife, dabbled with blood, and I felt that a
gash had been made across my breast. Then they applied the chloroform
once more; I felt Hatasou give my hand a gentle squeeze; the whole
panorama faded finally from my view; and I went to sleep for a seemingly
endless time.

When I awoke again, my first impression led me to believe that the
thousand years were over, and that I had come to life once more to feast
with Hatasou and Thothmes in the Pyramid of Abu Yilla. But second
thoughts, combined with closer observation of the surroundings,
convinced me that I was really lying in a bedroom of Shepheard's Hotel
at Cairo. An hospital nurse leant over me, instead of a chief priest;
and I noticed no tokens of Editha Fitz-Simkins's presence. But when I
endeavoured to make inquiries upon the subject of my whereabouts, I was
peremptorily informed that I mustn't speak, as I was only just
recovering from a severe fever, and might endanger my life by talking.

Some weeks later I learned the sequel of my night's adventure. The
Fitz-Simkinses, missing me from the boat in the morning, at first
imagined that I might have gone ashore for an early stroll. But after
breakfast time, lunch time, and dinner time had gone past, they began to
grow alarmed, and sent to look for me in all directions. One of their
scouts, happening to pass the Pyramid, noticed that one of the stones
near the north-east angle had been displaced, so as to give access to a
dark passage, hitherto unknown. Calling several of his friends, for he
was afraid to venture in alone, he passed down the corridor, and through
a second gateway into the central hall. There the Fellahin found me,
lying on the ground, bleeding profusely from a wound on the breast, and
in an advanced stage of malarious fever. They brought me back to the
boat, and the Fitz-Simkinses conveyed me at once to Cairo, for medical
attendance and proper nursing.

Editha was at first convinced that I had attempted to commit suicide
because I could not endure having caused her pain, and she accordingly
resolved to tend me with the utmost care through my illness. But she
found that my delirious remarks, besides bearing frequent reference to a
princess, with whom I appeared to have been on unexpectedly intimate
terms, also related very largely to our casus belli itself, the
dancing girls of Abu Yilla. Even this trial she might have borne,
setting down the moral degeneracy which led me to patronize so degrading
an exhibition as a first symptom of my approaching malady: but certain
unfortunate observations, containing pointed and by no means flattering
allusions to her personal appearance--which I contrasted, much to her
disadvantage, with that of the unknown princess--these, I say, were
things which she could not forgive; and she left Cairo abruptly with her
parents for the Riviera, leaving behind a stinging note, in which she
denounced my perfidy and empty-heartedness with all the flowers of
feminine eloquence. From that day to this I have never seen her.

When I returned to London and proposed to lay this account before the
Society of Antiquaries, all my friends dissuaded me on the ground of its
apparent incredibility. They declare that I must have gone to the
Pyramid already in a state of delirium, discovered the entrance by
accident, and sunk exhausted when I reached the inner chamber. In
answer, I would point out three facts. In the first place, I undoubtedly
found my way into the unknown passage--for which achievement I
afterwards received the gold medal of the Societee Khediviale, and of
which I retain a clear recollection, differing in no way from my
recollection of the subsequent events. In the second place, I had in my
pocket, when found, a ring of Hatasou's, which I drew from her finger
just before I took the chloroform, and put into my pocket as a keepsake.
And in the third place, I had on my breast the wound which I saw the
priest inflict with a knife of greenstone, and the scar may be seen on
the spot to the present day. The absurd hypothesis of my medical
friends, that I was wounded by falling against a sharp edge of rock, I
must at once reject as unworthy a moment's consideration.

My own theory is either that the priest had not time to complete the
operation, or else that the arrival of the Fitz-Simkins' scouts
frightened back the mummies to their cases an hour or so too soon. At
any rate, there they all were, ranged around the walls undisturbed, the
moment the Fellahin entered.

Unfortunately, the truth of my account cannot be tested for another
thousand years. But as a copy of this book will be preserved for the
benefit of posterity in the British Museum, I hereby solemnly call upon
Collective Humanity to try the veracity of this history by sending a
deputation of archaeologists to the Pyramid of Abu Yilla, on the last day
of December, Two thousand eight hundred and seventy-seven. If they do
not then find Thothmes and Hatasou feasting in the central hall exactly
as I have described, I shall willingly admit that the story of my New
Year's Eve among the Mummies is a vain hallucination, unworthy of
credence at the hands of the scientific world.





Next: The Foundering Of The Fortuna

Previous: An Episode In High Life



Add to Informational Site Network
Report
Privacy
ADD TO EBOOK


Viewed 1761