We came very near expressing interest sometimes, even
admiration. It was hard to keep from it. We succeeded, though. Nobody else
ever did in the Vatican museums. The guide was bewildered, nonplussed. He
walked his legs off, nearly, hunting up extraordinary things, and exhausted
all his ingenuity on us, but it was a failure; we never showed any interest
in anything. He had reserved what he considered to be his greatest wonder
till the last,--a royal Egyptian mummy, the best preserved in the world,
perhaps. He took us there. He felt so sure this time that some of his old
enthusiasm came back to him:--
"See, genteelmen!--Mummy! Mummy!"
The eye-glass came up as calmly, as deliberately as ever.
"Ah,--Ferguson,--what did I understand you to say the gentleman's name
was?"
"Name?--he got no name!--Mummy!--'Gyptian mummy!"
"Yes, yes. Born here?"
"No. 'Gyptian mummy!"
"Ah, just so. Frenchman, I presume?"
"No! Not Frenchman, not Roman! Born in Egypta!"
"Born in Egypta. Never heard of Egypta before.
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