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Chapter 39

           Asonebyoneofthescentedwrappingswereremoved,alongtressofnut-brownhairbecamevisiblethen,thosewhowereengagedinthetask,usedmoreextremeanddelicateprecaution,Luciohimselfassistingthemtouncovertheface.Asthiswasdone,akindofsickhorrorstoleovermebrownandstiffasparchmentthoughthefeatureswere,theircontourwasrecognisableandwhenthewholecountenancewasexposedtoviewIcouldalmosthaveshriekedaloudthenameof‘Sibyl!’Foritwaslikeher!dreadfullylike!andasthefaint,half-aromatichalf-putridodoursoftheunrolledcerementscrepttowardsmeontheair,Ireeledbackgiddilyandcoveredmyeyes.IrresistiblyIwasremindedofthesubtleFrenchperfumeexhaledfromSibyl’sgarmentswhenIfoundherdeadthat,andthissicklyeffluviaweresimilar!Amanstandingnearmesawmeswerveasthoughabouttofall,andcaughtmeonhisarm.

           "ThesunistoostrongforyouIfear?"hesaidkindly—"Thisclimatedoesnotsuiteverybody."

           Iforcedasmileandmurmuredsomethingaboutapassingtouchofvertigothen,recoveringmyselfIgazedfearfullyatLucio,whowasstudyingthemummyattentivelywithacurioussmile.Presentlystoopingoverthecoffinhetookoutofitapieceoffinelywroughtgoldintheshapeofamedallion.

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