This seems to have impressed the queen, for she ordered the mob to stand on one side, and to Wenamon she said, “Pass the night....” Here the torn writing comes to an abrupt end, and the remainder of Wenamon’s adventures are for ever lost amidst the dust of El Hibeh. One may suppose that Hetebe took the Egyptian under her protection, and that ultimately he arrived once more in Egypt, whither Zakar-Baal had perhaps already sent the timber. Returning to his native town, it seems that Wenamon wrote his report, which for some reason or other was never despatched to the High Priest. Perhaps the envoy was himself sent for, and thus his report was rendered useless; or perhaps our text is one of several copies. There can be no question that he was a writer of great power, and this tale of his adventures must be regarded as one of the jewels of the ancient Egyptian language. The brief description of the Prince of Byblos, seated with his back to the window, while the waves beat against the wall below, brings vividly before one that far-off scene, and reveals a lightness of touch most unusual in writers of that time. There is surely, too, an appreciation of a delicate form of humour observable in his account of some of his dealings with the prince. It is appalling to think that the peasants who found this roll of papyrus might have used it as fuel for their evening fire; and that, had not a drifting rumour of the value of such articles reached their village, this little tale of old Egypt and the long-lost Kingdoms of the Sea would have gone up to empty heaven in a puff of smoke. CHAPTER IV THE PRESERVATION OF ANTIQUITIES In the Dresden _Nachrichten_, a newspaper of considerable standing, an article appeared in the second year of the late war, in which a well-known German writer advocated a ruthless attack upon the antiquities and art treasures of Italy. “If Italian statesmen,” he said, “have imagined that the art treasures in their country are a species of insurance against a too energetic conduct of the War on Germany’s part, they will experience some very bitter disappointments.” He tells the Italian people that the well-being of the least significant German soldier--that is to say, any oaf from the lowest grade of German life--is of more value than the most magnificent gem of ancient or modern art; and in conclusion he declares that “when the monuments and cathedrals, the statues and the pictures, the churches and the palaces, of Venice, Milan, Florence and Rome, feel the sharpness of the German sword, it will be--and God knows that it will be--a just judgment that overtakes them.”