at the papyri, the prints,
and odds and ends of all kinds which covered the walls to the ceiling,
and then she looked silently for some time at the goddess Pasht who
stood on my writing-table. Finally she said:

"She is charming."

"Do you refer to this little monument, Madam? As a matter of fact, it
is distinguished by an exceptional inscription of a sufficiently curious
nature. But may I ask what has procured for me the honour of your
visit?"

"O," she cried, "I don't care a fig for its remarkable inscriptions.
There never was a more exquisitely delicate cat-face. Of course you
believe that she is a real goddess, don't you, Monsieur Pigeonneau?"

I protested against so unworthy a suspicion.

"To believe that would be fetichism."

Her great green eyes looked at me with surprise.

"Ah, then, you don't believe in fetichism? I did not think one could
be an archaeologist and yet not believe in fetichism. How can Pasht
interest you if you do not believe that she is a goddess? But never
mind! I came to see you on a matter of great importance, Monsieur
Pigeonneau."

"Great importance?"

"Yes, about a costume. Look at me."

"With pleasure."

"Don't you find traces of the Cushite race in my profile?"

I was at loss what to say. An interview of this nature was so foreign to
me.

"Oh, there's nothing surprising about it," she continued. "I remember
when I was an Egyptian. And were you also an Egyptian, Monsieur
Pigeonneau? Don't you remember? How very curious. At least, you don't
doubt that we pass through a series of successive incarnations?"

"I do not know."

"You surprise me, Monsieur Pigeonneau."

"Will you tell me, Madam, to what I am indebted for this honour?"

"To be sure. I haven't yet told you that I have come to beg you to
help me to design an Egyptian costume for the fancy ball at Countess
N------'s. I want a costume that shall be absolutely accurate and
bewilderingly beautiful. I have been hard at work at it already, M.
Pigeonneau. I have gone over my recollections, for I remember very well
when I lived in Thebes six thousand years ago. I have had designs sent
me from London, Boulak and New York."

"Those would, of course, be more reliable." "No, nothing is so reliable
as one's intuition. I have also studied in the Egyptian Museum of the
Louvre. It is full of enchanting things. Figures so slender and pure,
profiles so delicate and clear cut, women who look like flowers, but, at
the same time