Then the work began.  The unrolling of the mummy cat had prepared me somewhat for it; but this was so much larger, and so infinitely more elaborate, that it seemed a different thing.  Moreover, in addition to the ever present sense of death and humanity, there was a feeling of something finer in all this.  The cat had been embalmed with coarser materials; here, all, when once the outer coverings were removed, was more delicately done.  It seemed as if only the finest gums and spices had been used in this embalming.  But there were the same surroundings, the same attendant red dust and pungent presence of bitumen; there was the same sound of rending which marked the tearing away of the bandages.  There were an enormous number of these, and their bulk when opened was great.  As the men unrolled them, I grew more and more excited.  I did not take a part in it myself; Margaret had looked at me gratefully as I drew back.  We clasped hands, and held each other hard.  As the unrolling went on, the wrappings became finer, and the smell less laden with bitumen, but more pungent.  We all, I think, began to feel it as though it caught or touched us in some special way.  This, however, did not interfere with the work; it went on uninterruptedly.  Some of the inner wrappings bore symbols or pictures.  These were done sometimes wholly in pale green colour, sometimes in many colours; but always with a prevalence of green.  Now and again Mr. Trelawny or Mr. Corbeck would point out some special drawing before laying the bandage on the pile behind them, which kept growing to a monstrous height.

At last we knew that the wrappings were coming to an end.  Already the proportions were reduced to those of a normal figure of the manifest height of the Queen, who was more than average height.  And as the end drew nearer, so Margaret’s pallor grew; and her heart beat more and more wildly, till her breast heaved in a way that frightened me.

Just as her father was taking away the last of the bandages, he happened to look up and caught the pained and anxious look of her pale face.  He paused, and taking her concern to be as to the outrage on modesty, said in a comforting way: 

“Do not be uneasy, dear!  See! there is nothing to harm you.  The Queen has on a robe.—­Ay, and a royal robe, too!”

The wrapping was a wide piece the whole length of the body.  It being removed, a profusely full robe of white linen had appeared, covering the body from the throat to the feet.

And such linen!  We all bent over to look at it.

Margaret lost her concern, in her woman’s interest in fine stuff.  Then the rest of us looked with admiration; for surely such linen was never seen by the eyes of our age.  It was as fine as the finest silk.  But never was spun or woven silk which lay in such gracious folds, constrict though they were by the close wrappings of the mummy cloth, and fixed into hardness by the passing of thousands of years.