Anne Rice: The Mummy or Ramses the Damned

Julie fell sobbing to the floor.

People shouting; hurried footsteps. An old woman with soft wrinkled hands was helping her to her feet.

"Have to get to Ramses," she said. She struggled towards the door. The other women tried to stop her. She should sit down. "Someone get a glass of water!" "No, let me go!"

Finally she reached the door, and forced her way through it, through the small knot of ushers gathered. Ramses came rushing towards her; she collapsed in his arms.

"She was there," she gasped in his ear. "She spoke to me. She touched me." She moved her hand to her aching throat. "She ran away when the others came in."

"What is it, miss?"

"Miss Stratford, what happened?"

"No, I'm all right now." He almost lifted her off her feet, and carried her away from them.

"Well, all I saw was another woman with her; yes, a tall woman, black hair."

Into the foyer of the box, he led her, a quiet private space. She tried to clear her vision; Elliott and Samir stood over her suddenly, and the music, the music was a ghastly din pouring through the curtains. Samir filled a glass with champagne for her. How absurd! Champagne.

"Here in the auditorium somewhere. Dear God, she was like a terrible angel! A goddess! Ramses, she knew me, my name. She knew me. She spoke of vengeance for Antony. Ramses, she knew who I was!"

His face was a mask of rage. He started for the door. She grabbed hold of him, knocking the champagne glass over.' 'No, don't go! Don't leave my side!'' she whispered. "She could have killed me. She wanted to. But then she couldn't. Ramses! She's a living, feeling creature! Oh, God, what have you done, what have I done!"

* * *

A bell had sounded within the auditorium. People were streaming out into the open spaces. And Alex would be searching for her; and perhaps he would find them.

She could not clear her head; she could not bring herself to move.

She stood on the high iron balcony, above the iron steps that descended to a dark, neglected alleyway, the door open to me lights and the noise to her right. The city was a haze of soft lamps and rooftops, of shining domes, and towers piercing the deep azure sky. She could not see the Nile from here, but it didn't matter. The air was cool and sweet; full of the scent of the green trees below.

Suddenly, she heard his voice:

"Your Highness, I've been searching for you everywhere."

"Hold me, Alex," she whispered. "Hold me in your arms." She took a deep breath as she felt him close to her, his warm hands on her. Gently he moved her back to sit on the iron steps that went upward to yet another balcony above.

"You're ill," he said. "I must get something for you to drink."

"No, stay close to me," she said. She knew her voice was barely audible. She stared out at the lights of the city almost desperately. She wanted somehow to cling to this vision of the modern city; to move towards it mentally out of her anguish. It was her only escape. That and the boy beside her, the clean innocent male thing that held her and kissed her.

"What do I do?" she murmured in the old Latin. "Is it grief I feel, or rage? I only know it's suffering."

She was torturing him, but she didn't mean to. Had he understood her words?

"Open your heart to me," he said earnestly. "I love you, Your Highness. Tell me what's troubling you. I won't let anything hurt you. If it's in my power to stop it, I shall."

"I believe you, young lord," she said. "I feel love for you too."

But what was it she wanted? Would revenge cure the rage that was tearing her apart? Or should she retreat now, taking young Lord Alex with her, and move as far away from her mentor, her creator, as she could? It seemed for one moment the ache in her would consume everything-thought, hope, will. But then she realized something and it was like the sun again, the warm sun.

To love and to hate so fiercely, it was the essence of life itself. And life she had again with all its blessings and all its pain.

* * *

The last act was nearing the end. Elliott sat staring dully at the beautiful stage, the doomed lovers suffocating in the tomb, Amneris the princess praying above.

Thank God it was almost finished! Verdi at his finest seemed absolutely ludicrous under these circumstances. As for the ball, they would pass through it for no more than a moment or two before taking Julie to her room.

Julie was on the verge of collapse. She sat still in the foyer of the box behind him, shivering, clinging to Ramses.

She'd refused to let Ramses leave her; so Elliott and Samir had searched the crowds at the intermissions. They had moved up and down the staircase, looking for the woman whom only Elliott would surely recognize, but whom Samir could spot for her flowing hair and silver gown.

She was nowhere to be found. And it wasn't surprising. She may well have left the hall altogether after the brief attack. The mystery was: how did she know about Julie! How had she found Julie here!

Another maddening aspect of all this was that they had not found Alex either! But perhaps that was a blessing in disguise. Alex remained somehow miraculously untouched by what had happened. Maybe he could be taken home with no further explanations, yet that seemed too much to expect.

There was no doubt in Elliott's mind now that Julie would be on that noon train tomorrow with Alex. He himself would remain in Cairo until this thing was seen to the finish. Samir would go back to London with Julie, it had already been decided; for Alex surely couldn't protect her or comfort her, since he did not know and must not know what was going on.

Samir would stay with Julie in Mayfair until Ramses returned. What good Elliott would be was uncertain. But he would remain. He had to. And Julie had to be taken far, far away.

The last heartrending duet of the opera was at its most poignant. He could not bear it for much longer. He lifted his opera glasses and began scanning the hall. Alex, where the hell are you! He scanned the left side of the dress circle slowly, and then gradually turned to the right.

Grey heads, sparkling diamonds; men half-asleep, mouths agape under white mustaches. And a gorgeous woman with black rippling hair over her shoulders walking quickly down to the front row of a far box, her hand in Alex's hand.

He froze.

He turned the little dial on the glasses, bringing the image even closer. The woman had settled down on Alex's left, but the curve of the dress circle placed them both clearly in view! Don't have a heart attack now, Elliott, not after all you've been through. Alex turned and kissed the woman's cheek as she stared at the stage--the tomb, the doomed lovers-and then in a little silent frenzy she turned to Alex with heartbroken eyes and nestled into the crook of his arm.

"Ramsey," he whispered. He had disturbed those around him, even woken up somebody in the next box. But Ramsey had heard him and had come through the curtain, kneeling down beside his seat.

"There, look! With Alex; it's she." The whisper was a gasp. Shoving the opera glasses at Ramsey, he stared at the two distant figures. He didn't need the glasses to see that Cleopatra had lifted her own and was staring at them!

He heard Ramsey's low moan of distress.

Alex had turned. Alex was making a little cheerful gesture to them, a discreet little wave with his left hand.

The last dying notes of the duet ended. Applause broke out all around them. The inevitable "Bravos!" came from all directions. The house lights were rising. People were climbing to their feet.

Julie and Samir stood in the open doorway.

"What is it!" Julie demanded.

"They're leaving. I'm going after them!" Ramses said.

"No!" Julie cried.

"Julie, she's with Alex Savarell," Ramsey said. "She has ensnared the Earl's son! Both of you, stay with Julie. Take Julie back to the hotel."