Casting one hasty glance at Miss Moore, who had moved to a little distance and was just consulting her watch, Rachel, full of excited wonder, obeyed. Seven times she bent her head with fast-closed eyes, and opened them only when her companion called softly “Now.”
Even before she opened them, Rachel was conscious of a delicious warmth like that of a hot midsummer day. A moment ago she had felt very chilly standing before the marble block Miss Moore called the Rosetta Stone, in a big, gloomy hall of the British Museum. How could it so suddenly have become warm?
In a second the question was answered, for she stood under a sky blue as the deepest blue flower, and the glorious sun lighted a scene so wonderful that Rachel gave a scream of astonishment.
“Where are we?” she gasped.
“In the mighty and mysterious land of Egypt,” answered her companion, “as it appeared thousands of years before the birth of Christ.”
His tone was so solemn that Rachel turned quickly to look at him, and, wonder of wonders, no old man was by her side! A dark-skinned youth stood there, dressed in a curious but beautiful robe with strange designs embroidered on its hem, and a no less strange head-dress, from which gold coins fell in a fringe upon his forehead.
“Oh!” cried Rachel, when she could speak for amazement. “You were old just now. I don’t understand. Who are you?” she added, in confusion.
The young man smiled, showing a row of beautiful white teeth. “My name is Sheshà. I am old,” he said. “Very, very old.” He pointed to a great object at which, so far, in her astonishment, Rachel had scarcely had time to glance. “I was born before that was quite finished—six thousand years ago.”
Rachel gasped again.
“But you look younger than my brother, and he’s only twenty,” she exclaimed.