The Snake, the Crocodile, and the Dog Read Free Page A

Providence. One Ramses was enough Two or more would have finished me.

(I understand that there has been a certain amount of impertinent speculation regarding the fact that Ramses is an only child. I will only say that his birth resulted in certain complications which I will not describe in detail, since they are no one's business but my own.)

Now I found myself with another child on my hands, not a malleable infant but a girl on the threshold of womanhood, and one whose background was even more unusual than that of my catastrophically precocious son. What on earth was I to do with her? How could I teach her the social graces, and complete the enormous gaps in her education that would be necessary if she was to find happiness in her new life?

Most women, I daresay, would have sent her off to school. But I hope I know my duty when it is forced upon me. It would have been cruelty of the most exquisite variety to consign Nefret to the narrow female world of a boarding school. I was better equipped to deal with her than any teacher, because I understood the world from which she had come and because I shared her contempt for the absurd standards the so-called civilized world imposes on the female sex. And ... I rather liked the girl.

If I were not an honest woman, I would say I loved her. No doubt that is how I ought to have felt. She had qualities any woman would wish in a daughter— sweetness of character, intelligence, honesty, and, of course, extraordinary beauty. This quality, which many in society would rank first, does not count so high with me, but I appreciated it.

Hers was the style of looks I had always envied. It is so unlike my own. My hair is black and coarse. Hers flowed like a river of gold. Her skin was creamy fair, her eyes cornflower-blue. Mine . . . are not. Her slim little figure would probably never develop the protuberances that mark my own. Emerson had always insisted these characteristics of mine pleased him, but I noted how appreciatively his eyes followed Nefret's dainty form.

We had returned to England in April and settled down at Amarna House, our home in Kent, as usual. Not quite as usual, though, normally we would have set to work immediately on our annual excavation reports, for Emerson prided himself on publishing them as soon as possible. This year we would have less to write about than usual, for our expedition into the desert had occupied most of the winter season. However, after our return to Nubia we had put in several productive weeks in the pyramid fields of Napata. (In which activity, I must add, Nefret had been a great help. She showed a considerable aptitude for archaeology.)

I was unable to assist Emerson as I usually did. I am sure I need not explain why I was distracted. This placed a considerable burden on Emerson, but for once he did not complain, waving aside my apologies with (ominous) good nature. "It is quite all right, Peabody, the child's needs come first. Let me know if there is anything I can do to help." This uncharacteristic affability, and the use of my maiden name— which Emerson employs when he is feeling particularly affectionate or when he wishes to persuade me into some course of action to which I am opposed— aroused the direst of suspicions.

"There is nothing you can do," I retorted. "What do men know of women's affairs?"

"Hmmm," said Emerson, retreating in haste to the library. I confess that I enjoyed fitting the girl out with a proper wardrobe. When we arrived in London she had hardly a stitch of clothing to her name, except for the brightly colored robes worn by Nubian women, and a few cheap ready-made garments I had purchased for her in Cairo. An interest in fashion, I believe, is not incompatible with intellectual ability equaling or exceeding that of any man, so I wallowed (the word, I hardly need say, is Emerson's) in tucked nightgowns and lace-trimmed petticoats, frilly unmentionables and ruffled blouses, in gloves and hats and pocket