with calm and measured tread, the bust thrown forward, and the head high.  The expression upon their faces is knowing, and somewhat sly.  An officer who has retired on half-pay at the Louvre (fig. 243) wears an undress uniform of the time of Amenhotep III.; that is to say, a small wig, a close-fitting vest with short sleeves, and a kilt drawn tightly over the hips, reaching scarcely half-way down the thigh, and trimmed in front with a piece of puffing plaited longwise.  His companion is a priest (fig. 244), who wears his hair in rows of little curls one above the other, and is clad in a long petticoat falling below the calf of the leg and spreading out in front in a kind of plaited apron.  He holds a sacred standard consisting of a stout staff surmounted by a ram’s head crowned with the solar disc.  Both officer and priest are painted red brown, with the exception of the hair, which is black; the cornea of the eyes, which is white; and the standard, which is yellow.  Curiously enough, the little lady Nai, who inhabits the same glass case, is also painted reddish brown, instead of buff, which was the canonical colour for women (fig. 245).  She is taken in a close-fitting garment trimmed down the front with a band of white embroidery.  Round her neck she wears a necklace consisting of a triple row of gold pendants.  Two golden bracelets adorn her wrists, and on her head she carries a wig with long curls.  The right arm hangs by her side, the hand holding some object now lost, which was probably a mirror.  The left arm is raised, and with the left hand she presses a lotus lily to her breast.  The body is easy and well formed, the figure indicates youth, the face is open, smiling, pleasant, and somewhat plebeian.  To modify the unwieldy mass of the headdress was beyond the skill of the artist, but the bust is delicately and elegantly modelled, the clinging garment gives discreet emphasis to the shape, and the action of the hand which holds the flower is rendered with grace and naturalness.  All these are portraits, and as the sitters were not persons of august rank, we may conclude that they did not employ the most fashionable artists.  They, doubtless, had recourse to more unpretending craftsmen; but that such craftsmen were thus highly trained in knowledge of form and accuracy of execution, shows how strongly even the artisan was influenced by the great school of sculpture which then flourished at Thebes.

This influence becomes even more apparent when we study the knick-knacks of the toilet table, and such small objects as, properly speaking, come under the head of furniture.  To pass in review the hundred and one little articles of female ornament or luxury to which the fancy of the designer gave all kinds of ingenious and novel forms, would be no light task.  The handles of mirrors, for instance, generally represented a stem of lotus or papyrus surmounted by a full-blown flower, from the midst of which rose a disk of polished metal.  For this design is sometimes substituted