"Speaking of my tomb. I am glad I am not there. I attract much more attention here than if I were on exhibition in that remote place. There's Amenophis II. I understand that he's very proud of the fact that he's the only king left in his tomb. I don't envy him at all. I have a hundred visitors where he has one. They are passing by me here in a string all day, and when they are your countrymen I can hear a good deal even through the thick glass. I find it more interesting to stay here in my case through the day, than to be stalking about the underworld, attending sacrifices to Anubis and those other gods. I was always fond of activity and progress." "You keep up with your doings, then?" "Well, not altogether. You see, I cannot go about in the upper world. I catch only a word of things from the tourists. I hear they have a new kind of boat on the Nile." "Yes, indeed," I said. "A boat that is run by steam--a mixture of fire and water--and is lit by electricity--a form of lightning." I thought he would be excited over these things, and full of questions; but he only reflected a little and asked, "What is the name of that boat?" "Oh, there are many of them. The one I came down on was called the _Memnon_." He sighed. "There it is," he said, sadly. "I am discredited, you see. I suppose they couldn't name it 'Rameses the Great.'" "Ah, but there is one of that name, too." He brightened a little, but grew sad again. "Only one?" he said. "Do you think there should be more of that name?" I asked. He sat up quite straight. "In my time they would all have borne that great name," he said. "And--ah, wouldn't that be a bit confusing?" "Not at all. I have set up as many as a hundred statues in one temple--_all_ of Rameses the Great. They were not at all confusing. You knew _all_ of them immediately." "True enough; and now I think of it, perhaps you have not heard that they have made your portrait as you lie here, and, by a magic process of ours, have placed it on a sort of papyrus tablet--a postal card we call it--and by another process have sent thousands of them over the world." He looked at me with eyes that penetrated my conscience. "Is that statement true?" he asked, tremulously. "It is--every word. Your portrait is as familiar to the world to-day as it was here in Egypt three thousand years ago." The great peace that had rested on the king's face came back to it. The piercing eyes closed restfully, and he slipped back on his pillow. "Then, after all, I am vindicated," he murmured. "I have not lived and died in vain." A hand was resting on my shoulder. The sun was shining in, and a threatening guard was standing over me. It was nothing. Five francs allayed his indignation. Five francs is a large baksheesh in Cairo, but I did not begrudge it, as matters stood. XLVI THE LONG WAY HOME