The Mummys Foot | Page 2

The old gnome foraged among his ancient wares, and finally arranged
before me some antique bronzes, so-called at least; fragments of
malachite, little Hindoo or Chinese idols, a kind of poussah-toys in
jade-stone, representing the incarnations of Brahma or Vishnoo, and
wonderfully appropriate to the very undivine office of holding papers
and letters in place.
I was hesitating between a porcelain dragon, all constellated with warts,
its mouth formidable with bristling tusks and ranges of teeth, and an
abominable little Mexican fetich, representing the god Vitziliputzili au
naturel, when I caught sight of a charming foot, which I at first took for
a fragment of some antique Venus.
It had those beautiful ruddy and tawny tints that lend to Florentine
bronze that warm living look so much preferable to the gray-green
aspect of common bronzes, which might easily be mistaken for statues
in a state of putrefaction. Satiny gleams played over its rounded forms,
doubtless polished by the amorous kisses of twenty centuries, for it
seemed a Corinthian bronze, a work of the best era of art, perhaps
moulded by Lysippus himself.
'That foot will be my choice,' said to the merchant, who regarded me
with an ironical and saturnine air, and held out the object desired that I
might examine it more fully.
I was surprised at its lightness. It was not a foot of metal, but in sooth a
foot of flesh, an embalmed foot, a mummy's foot. On examining it still
more closely the very grain of the skin, and the almost imperceptible
lines impressed upon it by the texture of the bandages, became
perceptible. The toes were slender and delicate, and terminated by
perfectly formed nails, pure and transparent as agates. The great toe,
slightly separated from the rest, afforded a happy contrast, in the
antique style, to the position of the other toes, and lent it an aerial
lightness--the grace of a bird's foot. The sole, scarcely streaked by a
few almost imperceptible cross lines, afforded evidence that it had
never touched the bare ground, and had only come in contact with the

finest matting of Nile rushes and the softest carpets of panther skin.
'Ha, ha, you want the foot of the Princess Hermonthis!' exclaimed the
merchant, with a strange giggle, fixing his owlish eyes upon me. 'Ha,
ha, ha! For a paper-weight! An original idea!--artistic idea!-Old
Pharaoh would certainly have been surprised had some one told him
that the foot of his adored daughter would be used for a paper-weight
after he had had a mountain of granite hollowed out as a receptacle for
the triple coffin, painted and gilded, covered with hieroglyphics and
beautiful paintings of the Judgment of Souls,' continued the queer little
merchant, half audibly, as though talking to himself.
'How much will you charge me for this mummy fragment?'
'Ah, the highest price I can get, for it is a superb piece. If I had the
match of it you could not have it for less than five hundred francs. The
daughter of a Pharaoh! Nothing is more rare.'
'Assuredly that is not a common article, but still, how much do you
want? In the first place let me warn you that all my wealth consists of
just five louis. I can buy anything that costs five louis, but nothing
dearer. You might search my vest pockets and most secret drawers
without even finding one poor five-franc piece more.'
'Five louis for the foot of the Princess Hermonthis! That is very little,
very little indeed. 'Tis an authentic foot,' muttered the merchant,
shaking his head, and imparting a peculiar rotary motion to his eyes.
'Well, take it, and I will give you the bandages into the bargain,' he
added, wrapping the foot in an ancient damask rag. 'Very fine? Real
damask--Indian damask which has never been redyed. It is strong, and
yet it is soft,' he mumbled, stroking the frayed tissue with his fingers,
through the trade-acquired habit which moved him to praise even an
object of such little value that he himself deemed it only worth the
giving away.
He poured the gold coins into a sort of mediaeval alms-purse hanging
at his belt, repeating:

'The foot of the Princess Hermonthis to be used for a paper-weight!'
Then turning his phosphorescent eyes upon me, he exclaimed in a voice
strident as the crying of a cat which has swallowed a fish-bone:
'Old Pharaoh will not be well pleased. He loved his daughter, the dear
man!'
'You speak as if you were a contemporary of his. You are old enough,
goodness knows! but you do not date back to the Pyramids of Egypt,' I
answered, laughingly, from the threshold.
I went home, delighted with my acquisition.
With the idea of putting it to profitable use as soon as possible, I placed