The socket which holds it has been hollowed out and filled with an arrangement of black and white enamel; a rim of bronze marks the outline of the lids, while a little silver peg, inserted at the back of the pupil, reflects the light and gives the effect of the sparkle of a living glance.  The statue, which is short in height, is of wood, and one would be inclined to think that the relative plasticity of the material counts for something in the boldness of the execution, were it not that though the sitting scribe of the Louvre is of limestone, the sculptor has not shown less freedom in its composition.  We recognize in this figure one of those somewhat flabby and heavy subordinate officials of whom so many examples are to be seen in Oriental courts.  He is squatting cross-legged on the pedestal, pen in hand, with the outstretched leaf of papyrus conveniently placed on the right:  he waits, after an interval of six thousand years, until Pharaoh or his vizier deigns to resume the interrupted dictation.  His colleague at the Gizeh Museum awakens in us no less wonder at his vigour and self-possession; but, being younger, he exhibits a fuller and firmer figure with a smooth skin, contrasting strongly with the deeply wrinkled appearance of the other, aggravated as it is by his flabbiness.  The “kneeling scribe” preserves in his pose and on his countenance that stamp of resigned indecision and monotonous gentleness which is impressed upon subordinate officials by the influence of a life spent entirely under the fear of the stick.  Banofir, on the contrary, is a noble lord looking upon his vassals passing in file before him:  his mien is proud, his head disdainful, and he has that air of haughty indifference which is befitting a favourite of the Pharaoh, possessor of generously bestowed sinecures, and lord of a score of domains.  The same haughtiness of attitude distinguishes the director of the granaries, Nofir.  We rarely encounter a small statue so expressive of vigour and energy.  Sometimes there may be found among these short-garmented people an individual wrapped and almost smothered in an immense abayah; or a naked man, representing a peasant on his way to market, his bag on his left shoulder, slightly bent under the weight, carrying his sandals in his other hand, lest they should be worn out too quickly in walking.  Everywhere we observe the traits of character distinctive of the individual and his position, rendered with a scrupulous fidelity:  nothing is omitted, no detail of the characteristics of the model is suppressed.  Idealisation we must not expect, but we have here an intelligent and sometimes too realistic fidelity.  Portraits have been conceived among other peoples and in other periods in a different way:  they have never been better executed.

[Illustration:  246.jpg PEASANT GOING TO MARKET]

     * Drawn by Boudier, from a photograph by Bechard.  The
     original is at Gizeh.—­Vth dynasty.