The opiate, or whatever it was, must have been a powerful one, for I had scarcely swallowed it before an attack of giddiness seized me. The outline of the Sphinx and the black bulk of the Great Pyramid beyond were merged in the general darkness. I could hear the wind of the desert singing in my ears and the voice of Pharos muttering something in an unknown tongue beside me. After that I sank down on the sand and presently became oblivious of everything. How long I remained asleep I have no idea. All I know is, that with a suddenness that was almost startling, I found myself awake and standing in a crowded street. The sun shone brilliantly, and the air was soft and warm. Magnificent buildings, of an architecture that my studies had long since made me familiar with, lined it on either hand, while in the roadway were many chariots and gorgeously-furnished litters, before and beside which ran slaves, crying aloud in their masters' names for room. From the position of the sun in the sky, I gathered that it must be close upon midday. The crowd was momentarily increasing, and as I walked, marvelling at the beauty of the buildings, I was jostled to and fro and oftentimes called upon to stand aside. That something unusual had happened to account for this excitement was easily seen, but what it was, being a stranger, I had no idea. Sounds of wailing greeted me on every side, and in all the faces upon which I looked signs of overwhelming sorrow were to be seen. Suddenly a murmur of astonishment and anger ran through the crowd, which separated hurriedly to right and left. A moment later a man came through the lane thus formed. He was short and curiously misshapen, and as he walked he covered his face with the sleeve of his robe, as though he were stricken with grief or shame. Turning to a man who stood beside me, and who seemed even more excited than his neighbours, I inquired who the new-comer might be. "Who art thou, stranger?" he answered, turning sharply on me. "And whence comest thou that thou knowest not Ptahmes, Chief of the King's Magicians? Learn, then, that he hath fallen from his high estate, inasmuch as he made oath before Pharaoh that the first-born of the King should take no hurt from the spell this Israelitish sorcerer, Moses, hath cast upon the land. Now the child and all the first-born of Egypt are dead, and the heart of Pharaoh being hardened against his servant, he hath shamed him and driven him from before his face." As he finished speaking, the disgraced man withdrew his robe from his face, and I realised the astounding fact _that Ptahmes the Magician and Pharos the Egyptian were not ancestor and descendant, but one and the same person_. CHAPTER XI. Of the circumstances under which my senses returned to me after the remarkable vision, for that is the only name I can assign to it, which I have described in the preceding chapter, only the vaguest recollection remains to me.