He urges us to come to see the king before the electric light is again extinguished, and this time for good and all.

Behold us now at the end of the hall, on the edge of a dark crypt, leaning over and peering within.

It is a place oval in form, with a vault of a funereal black, relieved by frescoes, either white or of the colour of ashes.

They represent, these frescoes, a whole new register of gods and demons, some slim and sheathed narrowly like mummies, others with big heads and big bellies like hippopotami.
Placed on the ground and watched from above by all these figures is an enormous sarcophagus of stone, wide open; and in it we can distinguish vaguely the outline of a human body: the Pharaoh! At least we should have liked to see him better.

The necessary light is forthcoming at once: the Bedouin Grand Master of Ceremonies touches an electric button and a powerful lamp illumines the face of Amenophis, detailing with a clearness that almost frightens you the closed eyes, the grimacing countenance, and the whole of the sad mummy.