Yes, she had died young. Then he turned to go, for disappointment
and the holiness of the place overcame him; he could endure no more of
it that night.
Leaving the burial hall, he walked along the painted passage, the lamp
swinging and his eyes fixed upon the floor. He was disheartened, and the
paintings could wait till the morrow. He descended the steps and came to
the foot of the mud slope. Here suddenly he perceived, projecting from
some sand that had drifted down over the mud, what seemed to be the
corner of a reed box or basket. To clear away the sand was easy,
and--yes, it was a basket, a foot or so in length, such a basket as
the old Egyptians used to contain the funeral figures which are called
_ushaptis_, or other objects connected with the dead. It looked as
though it had been dropped, for it lay upon its side. Smith opened
it--not very hopefully, for surely nothing of value would have been
abandoned thus.
The first thing that met his eyes was a mummied hand, broken off at the
wrist, a woman's little hand, most delicately shaped. It was withered
and paper-white, but the contours still remained; the long fingers were
perfect, and the almond-shaped nails had been stained with henna, as was
the embalmers' fashion.
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