The afternoon shadows were already growing long, when a splendid chariot drew up to the gates of the terrace-temple.

Paaker, the chief pioneer, stood up in it, driving his handsome and fiery Syrian horses.

Behind him stood an Ethiopian slave, and his big dog followed the swift team with his tongue out.
As he approached the temple he heard himself called, and checked the pace of his horses.

A tiny man hurried up to him, and, as soon as he had recognized in him the dwarf Nemu, he cried angrily: "Is it for you, you rascal, that I stop my drive?
What do you want ?" "To crave," said the little man, bowing humbly, "that, when thy business in the city of the dead is finished, thou wilt carry me back to Thebes." "You are Mena's dwarf ?" asked the pioneer.
"By no means," replied Nemu.

"I belong to his neglected wife, the lady Nefert.