"The chief painting in the mastabas of Dahshour is that which was preserved in the tomb of a rich trader of that period, one of those important merchants whose caravans carried on the traffic with Lybia and the Syrian coast. It was first brought to public notice by Brugsch; then it formed the subject of two detailed communications from my young and eminent confrère, M. Maspero; these appeared in the _Annales du Musée de Boulack_; and the _Revue d'Egyptologie_. The name of this trader was Rhanofirnotpou...." M. Raindal rose from his seat and quickly rubbed the blackboard behind him. A little cloud of white chalk, light as smoke, floated about his sleeve. "Rha-no-fir-not-pou!..." he spelled out, as he wrote the hieroglyphics of the word upon the board. He had scarcely finished when the padded door was pushed forward and fell back again noisily. Insidious emanations of iris perfume sharply passed through the room. A lady entered, and with a rustle of silk, sat down behind the students. In spite of himself, and as if compelled by the odor, M. Raindal turned round anxiously. Yes, it was she, it was the pretty little Mme. Chambannes! He was so upset that on coming back to his place he could do nothing but repeat his first sentence concerning the defunct Rhanofirnotpou. " ...One of those important merchants, as I said, one of those rich traders whose caravans...." Mme. Chambannes! Mme. Chambannes at his lecture, in a blue skirt, a white veil and her otter fur coat! Who could have expected such foolishness, such a childish caprice? And now she was making little signs at him as one does to friends in a theater from box to box: "How do you do, M. Raindal. How do you do, how do you do," the head of Mme. Chambannes kept on saying. She desisted, at last, when she noticed that the master's face remained impassive despite her politeness. Moreover, the coldness of M. Raindal was not her only cause for disappointment. To begin with, she did not understand anything of this story about the paintings of the late Rhanofirnotpou. What! Paintings in a tomb! The great trader must have been an original character! And then she was astonished by the setting. She had thought that she would enter a grandiose amphitheater, with the audience crowding on the tiers built of oak and varnished by age. Below she had imagined a huge chair as high as that of a judge, and flanked by two ushers with silver chains. In the chair, M. Raindal in a crimson red velvet robe bordered with ermine.... M. Raindal discoursing, playing with his braided bonnet, drinking sugar and water and interrupted at every word by his enthusiastic audience....