“But who, may I ask, is Menna! No friend of yours, I’d swear! Susan is equally interested in some lady friend of your acquaintance, Sesen I think her name was! Well, never mind that now. Turn over and rest.”
Then it was a dream; the vision of a fevered brain! Enana, Hanit, Sesen, Menna, and Renny—could I have been Renny—all were dreams! Hanit! Why such a person never existed. And Ramses! As yet he wasn’t born!
I tried to smile at the busy little figure in white. I recognized her now. It was Susan Braintree, my Susan!
I caught myself repeatedly murmuring: “Susan the Lily, Sesen the Lotus, one and the same name, one and the same person perhaps. Ah, my Beautiful Princess! I can smell the sweet unguents which Bhanar has sprinkled upon your dainty Wig, the myrrh upon your supple hands...!”
Susan presses a little phial to my nostrils. A few short breaths and—I sleep.