Meanwhile, all over Mansfield Park, dazed sleepy servants paraded up and down corridors, entered parlors only to forget their tasks in sudden fits of stupor, then recalling again, and were frequently cornered and gently touched by peculiar others clad in very shabby torn linen clothing, with terrible skin conditions and a stupefying case of windblown “sailor sunburn”—as Lady Bertram was likely to inform anyone who bothered to ask her “who these strange people were,” and who had never previously been seen in the household.

“Sailors! Sailors, all!” she muttered with a beatific expression. “All come forth from the land of Ptolemy and Cleopatra; all quite welcome to stay and attend the Pharaoh, naturally. As long as they only consume vermin, or just take a tad of the ka, the breath of life, downstairs, it would be just fine, no harm done,” at which point the speaker usually hurried to end the conversation with great politeness so as not to offend the poor gently deranged Ladyship.

Fanny herself ran into more than one such strange unnatural individual as she went up and down the stairs to her own attic every day. They moved with a strange wooden gait, shuffling about stiffly and very slowly. Once she saw a man miss a doorway and repeatedly attempt to pass through a wall, beating himself against the wallpaper in futility like a horsefly against a windowpane, until the butler came and loudly cleared his throat in arch disapproval. . . .

Another time, just at the lower flight of stairs, she was confronted by a very dried-out looking fellow, with rusty peeling skin, and almost no hair on his scalp. He had such deep eye-sockets that for a moment Fanny thought there were no eyes there at all! After smacking his seemingly toothless gums, he attempted to stop her and slowly raised an arm in her direction.

But just about when his grubby peeling fingers brushed against the muslin of her shoulder, “Fanny stood back in some alarm and said, “I beg pardon, sir, what are you doing? I’d like to pass, please.”

“WHA-WA-SHWAH!” said the man softly in a hissing faint rattle of breath, as though his lungs had holes in it and could not properly support the exhalation; and Fanny was certain now he was in his cups.

“Sir, I am sorry, but I must pass, please step aside, or I shall be forced to call for assistance—”

But the man ignored her intonation and continued to reach for her, finally placing his fingertips on her arm.

With a small squeak, Fanny slapped his hand away.

“You—you take liberties, sir! Unhand me!”

The strange man—at this point the excellent Reader can safely guess this was none other than a mummy—went absolutely still in what appeared to be genuine stunned confusion. And then, as though nothing had been said in protest, he resumed his attempt to feed and reached for Fanny.