"So I have understood. Your Majesty was rather an invalid, were you not?
Of course, in those circumstances, one prefers the nurse whom one can
trust. Oh, pray, no offence! Nefertari, my love--oh, I beg pardon!
--Astnefert--Nefertari has gone to speak to some of her children--let
me introduce you to your predecessor, the Queen Nefertiti, wife of
Amenhotep IV.--I mean Khu-en-aten (he changed his name, you know,
because half of it was that of the father of the gods). She is
interested in the question of plural marriage. Good-bye! I wish to have
a word with my grandfather, Rameses I. He was fond of me as a little
boy."

At this moment Smith's interest in that queer conversation died away,
for of a sudden he beheld none other than the queen of his dreams,
Ma-Mee. Oh! there she stood, without a doubt, only ten times more
beautiful than he had ever pictured her. She was tall and somewhat
fair-complexioned, with slumbrous, dark eyes, and on her face gleamed
the mystic smile he loved. She wore a robe of simple white and a
purple-broidered apron, a crown of golden _uraei_ with turquoise eyes
was set upon her dark hair as in her statue, and on her breast and arms
were the very necklace and bracelets that he had taken from her tomb.
She appeared to be somewhat moody, or rather thoughtful, for she leaned
by herself against a balustrade, watching the throng without much
interest.

Presently a Pharaoh, a black-browed, vigorous man with thick lips, drew
near.

"I greet your Majesty," he said.