The Curse of the Pharaohs by Elizabeth Peters Page A

of juvenile excitement and overindulgence. All the children except Ramses had been sick at least once, and Ramses had set the Christmas tree on fire, frightened the nursery maid into fits by displaying his collection of engravings of mummies (some in an advanced state of decrepitude), and...But it would require an entire volume to describe all Ramses' activities. On the morning of our departure his infantile features presented a horrific appearance, for he had been badly scratched by little Amelia's kitten while trying to show the animal how to stir the plum pudding with its paw. As the kitchen echoed to the outraged shrieks of the cook and the growls of the cat, he had explained that, since every other member of the household was entitled to stir the pudding for luck in the coming year, he had felt it only fair that the pets should share in the ceremony.
    With such memories, is it any wonder that I contemplated a few months away from Ramses with placid satisfaction?
    We took the fastest possible route: train to Marseilles, steamer to Alexandria, and train to Cairo. By the time we reached our destination my husband had shed ten years, and as we made our way through the chaos of the Cairo train station he was the old Emerson, shouting orders and expletives in fluent Arabic. His bull-like voice made heads turn and eyes open wide, and we were soon surrounded by old acquaintances, grinning and calling out greetings. White and green turbans bobbed up and down like animated cabbages, and brown hands reached out to grasp our hands. The most touching welcome came from a wizened old beggar, who flung himself on the ground and wrapped his arms around Emerson's dirty boot, crying, "Oh, Father of Curses, you have returned! Now I can die in peace!"
    "Bah," said Emerson, trying not to smile. Gently disengaging his foot, he dropped a handful of coins onto the old man's turban.
    I had cabled Shepheard's to book rooms as soon as we decided to accept Lady Baskerville's offer, for the hotel is always crowded during the winter season. A magnificent new structure had replaced the rambling old building we had stayed in so often. Italianite in style, it was an imposing edifice with its own generating plant—the first hotel in the East to have electric lights. Emerson grumbled at all the unnecessary luxury. I myself have no objection to comfort so long as it does not interfere with more important activities.
    We found messages awaiting us from friends who had heard of Emerson's appointment. There was also a note from Lady Baskerville, who had preceded us by a few days, welcoming us back to Egypt and urging us to proceed as soon as possible to Luxor. Conspicuous by its absence was any word from the Director of Antiquities. I was not surprised. Monsieur Grebaut and Emerson had never admired one another. It would be necessary for us to see him, and Grebaut was making certain we would have to sue humbly for an audience, like any ordinary tourists.
    Emerson's comments were profane. When he had calmed down a little, I remarked, "All the same, we had better call on him at once. He can, if he wishes, make difficulties for us."
    This sensible suggestion brought on another spell of ranting, in the course of which Emerson predicted Grebaut's future residence in a warm and uncomfortable corner of the universe, and declared that he himself would rather join the rascal in mat place than make the slightest concession to rude officiousness. I therefore abandoned the subject for the time being and agreed to Emerson's proposal that we go first to Aziyeh, a village near Cairo from which he had in the past recruited his workmen. If we could take with us to Luxor a skeleton crew of men who were not infected with the local superstitions, we could begin work at once and hope to recruit other workers after success had proved their fears to be vain.
    This concession put Emerson in a better mood, so that I was able to persuade him to dine downstairs instead of going to a