"I am more fragile," said the exquisite. "Thou, prince, art as accustomed to riding as a Hyksos, and Pentuer might travel on a red-hot sword. But I am so delicate."
At sunset the travelers came out on a lofty hill, whence they saw an uncommon picture unfolded before them. For a long distance the green valley of Egypt was visible, on the background of it, like a row of ruddy fires, the triangular pyramids stood gleaming. A little to the right of the pyramids the tops of the Memphis pylons, wrapped in a bluish haze, seemed to be flaming upward.
"Let us go; let us go!" said Ramses.
A moment later the reddish desert surrounded them again, and again the line of pyramids gleamed until all was dissolved in the twilight.
When night fell the travelers had reached that immense district of the dead, which extends for a number of tens of miles on the heights along the left side of the river.
Here during the Ancient Kingdom were buried, for endless ages, Egyptians, the pharaohs in immense pyramids, princes and dignitaries in smaller pyramids, common men in mud structures. Here were resting millions of mummies, not only of people, but of dogs, cats, birds, in a word, all creatures which, while they lived, were dear to Egyptians.
During the time of Ramses, the burial-ground of kings and great persons was transferred to Thebes; in the neighborhood of Memphis were buried only common persons and artisans from regions about there.
Among scattered graves, the prince and his escort met a number of people, pushing about like shadows.
"Who are ye?" asked the leader of the escort.
"We are poor servants of the pharaoh returning from our dead. We took to them roses, cakes, and beer."