melancholy. But the whole thing is full of charm. I fell in love with it
the first time I saw it. And it is so Greek!"

"Yes, it is, in spite of the Egyptian gods and symbols."

"Rather because of them, I think," said she. "There we have the typical
Greek attitude, the genial, cultivated eclecticism that appreciated the
fitness of even the most alien forms of art. There is Anubis standing
beside the bier; there are Isis and Nephthys, and there below, Horus and
Tahuti. But we can't suppose that Artemidorus worshipped or believed in
those gods. They are there because they are splendid decoration and
perfectly appropriate in character. The real feeling of those who loved
the dead man breaks out in the inscription." She pointed to a band below
the pectoral, where, in gilt capital letters, was written the two words,
"[Greek: ARTEMIDORE EUPsUChI]."

"Yes," I said, "it is very dignified and very human."

"And so sincere and full of real emotion," she added. "I find it
unspeakably touching. 'O Artemidorus, farewell!' There is the real note
of human grief, the sorrow of eternal parting. How much finer it is than
the vulgar boastfulness of the Semitic epitaphs, or our own miserable,
insincere make-believe of the 'Not lost but gone before' type. He was
gone from them for ever; they would look on his face and hear his voice
no more; they realised that this was their last farewell. Oh, there is a
world of love and sorrow in those two simple words!"

For some time neither of us spoke. The glamour of this touching memorial
of a long-buried grief had stolen over me, and I was content to stand
silent by my beloved companion and revive, with a certain pensive
pleasure, the ghosts of human emotions over which so many centuries had
rolled. Presently she turned to me with a frank smile. "You have been
weighed in the balance of friendship," she said, "and not found wanting.
You have the gift of sympathy, even with a woman's sentimental fancies."

I suspected that a good many men would have developed this precious
quality under the circumstances, but I refrained from saying so. There
is no use in crying down one's own wares. I was glad enough to have
earned her good opinion so easily, and when she at length turned away
from the case and passed through into the adjoining room, it was a very
complacent young man who bore her company.

"Here is Ahkhenaten--or Khu-en-aten, as the authorities here render the
hieroglyphics." She indicated a