Dr. Lightner laughed. It was a rusty sound, as one who rarely encounters anything comic. Making him laugh was how she would accomplish his proposal of marriage. Camilla gave herself a deadline, as if he were a newspaper article. Three weeks, she said to herself, and he will ask for my hand. She looked up into his eyes: the first time in her life that a man's eyes were above her own.

“Miss Matthews,” he said reluctantly, “how may I begin your instruction?”

She pointed to the Pyramids. “I want desperately to ascend. I spent the voyage reading about Egypt and have yearned for this moment. Must I hire assistance like other tourists? I am strong and accustomed to playing ball games. Might I climb alone?”

He was puzzled, as if she were a hieroglyph not yet deciphered. “No, madam. A lady mustn't attempt the ascent alone. She might grow fatigued from heat or lose her balance and topple.”

Camilla had never lost her balance and toppled; not when her father died; not when she masqueraded as a man; not when she visited a leper hospital. She did not plan to topple from a Pyramid either. But women did not contradict great men, nor receive marriage proposals by being strong.

“I will take you,” he said suddenly, surprising her; perhaps surprising himself; definitely surprising his staff, who took a second glance at the female in their midst.

They approached the base of the Pyramid. Camilla touched one of the great yellowing stones. She swayed from the impact of such antiquity. She felt she almost knew the men who had piled these stones. Knew their wives and children, their gods and dreams.

“Are you faint already?” demanded the great man irritably.

“I am overcome not by heat, but by history. Not by weakness, but by strength.” Camilla caught Dr. Lightner's arm. “Tell me how the stones were quarried and moved. Tell me who was here. Tell me how they lived.”

He stared at her as if she were an artifact. “Put your hat back on,” he said gruffly. “Fasten the scarf. You must be shaded from the glare.” He tightened the chin strap on his own stiff, wide-brimmed hat and took her hand to help her up. She did need help, as her skirt proved confining. Dr. Lightner could vault easily up to the next level, from whence he would reach down to grip her hand, and lean backward. Up the tautness of his body she would scramble. She felt her arm would be pulled from its socket with every yank. She bruised her shin and banged her elbow, but gave no sign, unwilling to ask for rest.

“From the top, Miss Matthews, you will see for miles because the land is flat and the air so clear. You will comprehend this area as one vast graveyard. You will see the floor plan, so to speak: the causeway, the quadrangles of lesser tombs and the remains of minor pyramids.”