Dead, the Egyptian saviour of the world!

There he stood, in his mummy-cloths, wearing the feathered crown, and
holding in his hands, which projected from an opening in the wrappings,
the crook and the scourge of power. Was he alive, or was he dead? Smith
could not tell, since he never moved, only stood there, splendid and
fearful, his calm, benignant face staring into nothingness.

Smith became aware that the darkness between him and the vision of
this god was peopled; that a great congregation was gathering, or had
gathered there. The blue light began to grow; long tongues of it shot
forward, which joined themselves together, illumining all that huge
hall.

Now, too, he saw the congregation. Before him, rank upon rank of them,
stood the kings and queens of Egypt. As though at a given signal, they
bowed themselves to the Osiris, and ere the tinkling of their ornaments
had died away, lo! Osiris was gone. But in his place stood another,
Isis, the Mother of Mystery, her deep eyes looking forth from beneath
the jewelled vulture-cap. Again the congregation bowed, and, lo! she was
gone. But in her place stood yet another, a radiant, lovely being, who
held in her hand the Sign of Life, and wore upon her head the symbol of
the shining disc--Hathor, Goddess of Love. A third time the congregation
bowed, and she, too, was gone; nor did any other appear in her place.

The Pharaohs and their queens began to move about and speak to each
other; their voices came to his ears in one low, sweet murmur.

In his amaze Smith had forgotten fear. From his hiding-place he watched
them intently. Some of them he knew by their faces. There, for instance,