When we reached her house, she was so persuasive and captivating, and made me so many pretty promises, that I consented to write down for her benefit the story told me by the old hero.  On the following day I sent her this episode of a historical epic, which might be entitled, ’The French in Egypt.’

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At the time of General Desaix’s expedition to Upper Egypt a Provencal soldier, who had fallen into the hands of the Maugrabins, was marched by those tireless Arabs across the desert which lies beyond the cataracts of the Nile.  To put sufficient distance between themselves and the French army, the Maugrabins made a forced march and did not halt until after nightfall.  They then camped about a well shaded with palm-trees, near which they had previously buried a stock of provisions.  Not dreaming that the thought of escape could enter their captive’s mind, they merely bound his wrists, and lay down to sleep themselves, after eating a few dates and giving their horses a feed of barley.  When the bold Provencal saw his enemies too soundly asleep to watch him, he used his teeth to pick up a scimitar, with which, steadying the blade by means of his knees, he contrived to cut through the cord which bound his hands, and thus recovered his liberty.  He at once seized a carbine and a poniard, took the precaution to lay in a supply of dates, a small bag of barley, some powder and ball, buckled on the scimitar, mounted one of the horses, and spurred him in the direction where he supposed the French army to be.  Impatient to meet the outposts, he pressed the horse, which was already wearied, so severely that the poor animal fell dead with his flanks torn, leaving the Frenchman alone in the midst of the desert.

After marching for a long time through the sand with the dogged courage of an escaping galley-slave, the soldier was forced to halt, as darkness drew on:  for his utter weariness compelled him to rest, though the exquisite sky of an eastern night might well have tempted him to continue the journey.  Happily he had reached a slight elevation, at the top of which a few palm-trees shot upward, whose leafage, seen from a long distance against the sky, had helped to sustain his hopes.  His fatigue was so great that he threw himself down on a block of granite, cut by Nature into the shape of a camp-bed, and slept heavily, without taking the least precaution to protect himself while asleep.  He accepted the loss of his life as inevitable, and his last waking thought was one of regret for having left the Maugrabins, whose nomad life began to charm him now that he was far away from them and from every other hope of succor.