the people, and can be bribed to every perfidy.  Look at him! there he is, walking by the side of the king.  See how he bows before him!  I thought I had heard once, that the Greeks only prostrated themselves before their gods.  But of course, when a man sells his country, he ceases to be its citizen.  Am I not right?  Ye scorn to call so base a creature by the name of countryman?  Yes? then I will deliver the wretch’s daughter into your hands.  Do what ye will with the child of such a villain.  Crown her with wreaths of roses, fall down before her, if it please you, but do not forget that she belongs to a man who has disgraced the name of Hellene, and has betrayed his countrymen and country!”

As he finished speaking the men raised a wild cry of rage and took possession of the trembling child.  A soldier held her up, so that her father—­the troops not being more than a bow-shot apart—­could see all that happened.  At the same moment an Egyptian, who afterwards earned celebrity through the loudness of his voice, cried:  “Look here, Athenian! see how treachery and corruption are rewarded in this country!” A bowl of wine stood near, provided by the king, from which the soldiers had just been drinking themselves into intoxication.  A Karian seized it, plunged his sword into the innocent child’s breast, and let the blood flow into the bowl; filled a goblet with the awful mixture, and drained it, as if drinking to the health of the wretched father.  Phanes stood watching the scene, as if struck into a statue of cold stone.  The rest of the soldiers then fell upon the bowl like madmen, and wild beasts could not have lapped up the foul drink with greater eagerness.—­[Herodotus tells this fearful tale (III. ii.)]

In the same moment Psamtik triumphantly shot off his first arrow into the Persian ranks.

The mercenaries flung the child’s dead body on to the ground; drunk with her blood, they raised their battle-song, and rushed into the strife far ahead of their Egyptian comrades.

But now the Persian ranks began to move.  Phanes, furious with pain and rage, led on his heavy-armed troops, indignant too at the brutal barbarity of their countrymen, and dashed into the ranks of those very soldiers, whose love he had tried to deserve during ten years of faithful leadership.

At noon, fortune seemed to be favoring the Egyptians; but at sunset the Persians had the advantage, and when the full-moon rose, the Egyptians were flying wildly from the battle-field, perishing in the marshes and in the arm of the Nile which flowed behind their position, or being cut to pieces by the swords of their enemies.

Twenty thousand Persians and fifty thousand Egyptians lay dead on the blood-stained sea-sand.  The wounded, drowned, and prisoners could scarcely be numbered.

[Herod.  III. 12.  Ktesias, Persica 9.  In ancient history the loss of the conquered is always far greater than that of the conquerors.  To a certain extent this holds good in the present day, but the proportion is decidedly not so unfavorable for the vanquished.]

Psamtik had been one of the last to fly.  He was well mounted, and, with a few thousand faithful followers, reached the opposite bank of the Nile and made for Memphis, the well-fortified city of the Pyramids.