Chapter II (2)

Two shots were fired at him by a woman who tried to bar his progress, one passing over his left shoulder and lodging in the arm of the guide behind him. Smarting with the wound, before St. Just could interpose, he cut her down. The other shot went through the metal ornament of St. Just's sabre-tache, and, striking on a button of his tunic, made him think for a moment that he was wounded. The shock made him stagger, and gave others of the Guides, who had followed, the opportunity of rushing past. Their blood was up and they were intent on revenging themselves for the shots fired on their officer and their comrade, and were in no mood to grant quarter. So that, when St. Just came up to them, he had the greatest difficulty in saving the life of a young Arab, who had been knocked down with the butt of a musket and was on the point of being sabered.

At some risk, St. Just interposed his own person, at the same time striking up the sword raised to slay the young man, who was then taken prisoner and bound.

Meantime the other persons in the house, recognizing the futility of attempting a stand, took to their heels with speed, and succeeded in making their escape from the back of the building.

So soon as, after a thorough search, St. Just had satisfied himself that the house was empty, he returned to General Buonaparte with their prisoner.

Buonaparte questioned the young fellow through an interpreter. At first he maintained a sullen silence, but, after a time, when he was reminded that his life had been spared, and was assured that the French had come solely to deliver the people from the tyranny of their rulers, and would reward and protect those who chose to give them information, his reserve and fear began to melt away and he became communicative.

He maintained that it was not he who had fired the shot at General Buonaparte nor, indeed, any shot. It appeared that the house belonged to one Islam Bey, the leader of a corps of Mamelukes. Gaining confidence, the lad went on to warn General Buonaparte against Islam Bey, saying that this Sheik had sworn by the beard of the Prophet to take his life before six months had passed.

In the end, the General not only gave the lad his liberty, but appointed him to be his body servant, and afterwards, took him to Paris. The young fellow became a great favorite with everybody. His name was Ali.

Buonaparte stayed six days in Alexandria, issuing conciliatory edicts to the people and holding many conferences with the chief Sheiks of the city, many of whom had submitted to him. This was on account of the good conduct of the French troops. A few men of the first detachment, doubtless, began to plunder; but, the moment it was discovered such severe punishment was meted out as effectually to check it for the remainder of the French occupation.

On the evening of the third day after the French entry, St. Just received orders to take a detachment of five Guides and a native who knew the track to be traversed, and to start at day-break and make all speed to Damanhour, with despatches for General Dessaix, who was proceeding thither with an advance guard of nearly five thousand men.

*CHAPTER IV.*

At early dawn, therefore, on the morning of the fourth day after Buonaparte's arrival in Alexandria, St. Just and his escort saddled and set out. They were accompanied by some Arabs belonging to a friendly tribe, whose chief was in the city and had offered his services to General Buonaparte. The force was small and both men and horses were picked so that they might ride fast and overtake Dessaix, who was already well on his way to Damanhour. At the last moment they were joined by a young subaltern of infantry in charge of a foraging party sent out in requisition of stores. The stores were to be carried by mules and it was the young subaltern's duty to convoy them and their drivers. St. Just found the young officer, whose name, he ascertained, was Garraud, a pleasant companion; and his men, who were infantry, fraternized with St. Just's troopers, the whole party for the first few miles marching along gayly, whistling and singing and chattering, as French soldiers will; but their chief topic of conversation was the shot that had been fired at the General on his entry into Alexandria. Garraud and his men had not yet been in Alexandria; so he asked St. Just for a full account of the affair; and St. Just gave it him.

As the sun rose higher in the heavens, conversation began to flag, both between the two officers and the men; for, although the march had begun in excellent spirits, the heat of the sun, which would shortly be at its zenith, made talking a fatigue, and movement alone sufficiently exhausting.

The Arabs only, mounted on their trusty ships of the desert, as they are wont to call their camels, seemed to be unconscious of the heat, as well as indifferent to two other evils the French severely felt, namely flies and thirst; to say nothing of the sand, which made marching horribly arduous. "Not good, honest ordinary sand," as an old veteran of Italy exclaimed, "but sand that penetrated through one's shoes and clothes, and made walking painful and tedious."

There was silence now for the most part among them all. It had lasted longer than usual, when St. Just, at last, broke it by inquiring in French of their chief guide how far they were to proceed before they halted. The old man turned his grizzly head round and gazed backwards, as though mentally measuring the distance they had already traversed; then up to the sky, as if seeking inspiration from this source. Finally he said briefly, "A league to the water, then three to the village, where my Masters sleep."

And so they plodded on.

At last, after crawling along in the boiling sun for two hours, they reached one of the stopping places indicated by their guide. There was a small pool of brackish water and there were a number of rocks standing out of the sand nine feet or more, behind which they could shelter themselves from the sun. Here St. Just called a halt. The men dismounted and tethered their horses; then gave them food and water. Afterwards they attended to their own wants and ate and drank. Referring to the water, one of the veterans, with the recollection of the luxuries of sunny Italy before his mind, remarked that one must march through the desert under a burning sun for hours before one would drink from such a hole as that before them; a pool that, in ordinary circumstances, one would not even put one's feet into.

Their inner man refreshed, they rested for a short time, and the Arabs and a few of the French began to smoke. St. Just was among these, for he had picked up this, at that time, uncommon habit from some Gipsies he had come across in Italy.

After an hour's repose, early in the afternoon the little company resumed its march; it was but a repetition of the morning's tramp; more heat, more flies, more sand, with thirst that seemed intensified, rather than appeased, by drinking the tepid, brackish water from the soldiers' water bottles.

By way of contrast, when the sun set, cold cutting winds sprang up that pierced them through.

It was late and quite dark when the party came in sight of the so-called village--a collection of mud-huts--which was to form their resting place for the night.

The advance guard under Dessaix had recently passed through the place, for everywhere there were signs of the presence of the French; but of inhabitants there were none. Worse still, half the huts were dismantled. Many portions of them had been torn away for fire-wood; but one was found after a careful search, large enough to shelter the whole party, with some crowding.

One man was posted as a sentry outside, and relieved every two hours. His duties were not only to give notice of the approach of enemies, but also to keep an eye on the Arab guides, who remained outside and who St. Just felt were not to be trusted.

The night passed without adventure or alarm, and the rest of the men in the hut was unbroken, so that they rose in the early morn in excellent spirits and with bodies refreshed. While the sky was still clothed in its gray mantle, and the sun had scarce given signs of his approach, St. Just and his escort recommenced their march, leaving the young subaltern, Garraud, and his convoy party to make their further way alone.

On the afternoon of the same day, they overtook General Dessaix at Beda. It was fortunate they had started so early as they did; for, otherwise, they would have been overwhelmed in a terrific sandstorm, which spent itself behind them and which they escaped by only one hour.

On handing in his despatches to Dessaix, St. Just received from him a sorry report of his command. Short as had been their stay in the country, the men were always murmuring; the heat, the sand, the flies, the scarcity and badness of the water had made them so discontented that the General had the utmost difficulty in keeping them in hand. They were mutinous, unruly, continually complaining of their lost luxuries. Even the officers complained. After a few days' rest, St. Just set out to return to Buonaparte, who, with the main body of the army, was to have left Alexandria on the 6th. Being anxious to join them with all speed, St. Just decided to travel all night. After marching for some hours and when darkness was setting in, St. Just, to his alarm, was informed by an Arab scout he had sent ahead, but who now rode back, that a large body of desert horsemen was advancing in their direction somewhat to the right of them. This was most unwelcome news. To wheel round and make an effort to escape, St. Just felt would be useless. Their only chance seemed to be to halt and wait until the enemy were close upon them; then to make a dash for it and try to cut their way through, and thus, aided by the darkness, to get clear away.

With this view, St. Just drew up his men as close together as they could stand. This mode of formation surprised the Arab guides, it being the custom of their countrymen to fight in a crescent-shaped wedge, a mode of formation Buonaparte found a strong one, when cavalry is massed in successive crescents one behind another.

Breathless, silent and motionless, the little troop remained drawn up, their ears on the alert for the first sounds of the approaching horsemen. Soon the tread of horses' hoofs, muffled by the sand, was heard, and the jangling of bridles and accoutrements. Nearer and nearer came the sounds. St. Just had given his men orders to make for the left, so as, so far as possible, to skirt the enemy, rather than meet them face to face; they were not to seek encounters, and only cut down those who barred their way; the main thing they were to keep before them was that they were to gallop for all that they were worth.

On came the Arabs. They had not yet discovered the French. A few seconds passed; then there was a shout, and the desert horsemen put their horses to the gallop and bore down upon the Frenchmen. Instantly St. Just gave the order, and from its scabbard flashed every sword; spurs were dug into the horses' sides, and they went off at the charge, meeting the fringe only of their opponents.

This was St. Just's first experience of a cavalry skirmish, his sole experience of warfare having been gained in an infantry regiment during the Italian campaign. But his horse was an old stager and used to the business; and he communicated his excitement to his rider, who felt himself borne madly onward with the others, without seeing which way he was going. There was a crash of opposing forces, a melee of Frenchmen and swarthy Arabs, all slashing, stabbing and hacking at each other, and parrying the blows dealt at them, as well as the dimness of the light permitted; and then St. Just felt his horse pause in its career and begin to stagger; at once he knew it had been badly wounded. In a moment he saw what had happened. An Arab, facing him alongside, so close that St. Just could have touched him, had come at him full tilt with his lance pointed dead at him. But, either by miscalculation of aim, or by an involuntary swerving on the part of one of the horses, the weapon had missed St. Just and buried itself deep in the flank of his charger, the point even protruding through the buttock. Quick as thought, St. Just realized that, if once he were unhorsed in the darkness and in the midst of all this crowd, the life would speedily be trampled out of him. Possessed of great muscular strength, to which his perilous position gave added energy, he raised himself in his stirrups, flashed his sword high in the air, then brought it down with all his force upon the turbaned skull of his opponent. The blade was sharp and trusty and it was wielded by a powerful arm. It struck the Arab's head a little to the left of his crown, and, cutting its way in a slanting direction, came out below the right ear, slicing off more than half the skull. But the force of the blow was not yet spent. Continuing its course, St. Just's sabre entered his adversary's right shoulder and, in a twinkling, had lopped off the arm that held the spear whose point and a good portion of its shaft were still fixed in the French officer's horse. Then, feeling his charger sinking beneath him, St. Just drew his feet from the stirrups and threw himself on the Arab's horse, the collision sending the lifeless body of the rider to the ground. With the man's warm blood gushing over him, he realized something of the horrors of war. But this was no time for sentiment. Settling his feet in the stirrups of the strange horse, at the moment he saw his own poor steed sink to the ground, St. Just seized the reins of his new mount, wheeled him round with the powerful Arab bit, struck his spurs into his sides, and, finding no one immediately opposing him, dashed off at full gallop; whither he knew not, except that he was going west of his proper route.

St. Just traversed a few miles on the same course, and then, satisfied that he was not being pursued, he reined in his recently appropriated horse and dismounted, intending to remain where he was, until day should break. The docile creature seemed to know what was expected of it, and, with very little trouble, St. Just got it to lie down; then, passing his arm through the reins, he laid himself down beside the animal, which thus helped to keep him warm. The young officer tried his hardest to keep his eyes open; but, spite of his efforts, after a time, he dropped asleep. He was exhausted with the heat and his exertions.

How long he had slept he did not know, but when he awoke, feeling cold and stiff, the day was breaking, for in the East he noticed a faint gleam of light.

At first he was puzzled to account for his whereabouts. But, when thoroughly awakened and in full possession of his senses, the occurrences of the previous night came back to him, and he remembered he had almost miraculously broken away from a horde of Bedouins, after cutting down the rider of the horse he had seized.

But what had become of his escort--French and Arab? Carefully he made the circuit of the horizon with his eye, but not a sign of a human being, friend or foe, was to be seen. Nor, further within the field of his vision, turn which way he would, was a single object, animate or inanimate, visible: not a tree, not a shrub, not a rock, nothing but sand, that appeared to be without bound, north, south, east and west; St. Just and his horse, to all appearance, were the sole occupants of the desert. The stillness and solitude were awful in their oppressiveness and the young officer felt that only action on his own part would make them bearable.

He got his horse to his feet and mounted, setting out in the direction he believed to be that which would lead him to General Buonaparte's line of march. There was not a landmark by which to shape his way; only the first glimmer of light eastward.

He had proceeded in a northerly direction for about two hours, when he espied a solitary horseman in the distance, advancing towards him. Nearer and nearer came the figure, and soon St. Just was able to make out that he was not a native of the desert, next that he wore a French uniform and finally, with a cry of joy, that he was Garraud, the young subaltern from whom, with his convoy party, he had parted at the so-called village where they had rested for the night two days before. At the same moment, Garraud recognized him, and both simultaneously urged their horses forward.

Mutual explanations were at once made.

It appeared that Garraud and his command had left the village a few hours after St. Just, following slowly in his wake. The first misfortune that had assailed them was to be almost buried in the sand-storm that St. Just had managed to escape. Hardly had they got over this, when they had been attacked by the very horde that St. Just and his escort had encountered. They had done their best in the face of tremendous odds, making a temporary rampart of the mules and their loads, firing over their backs and surrendering only when several of them had been killed and many wounded and all their ammunition had been exhausted, so that further resistance would have been useless. In the confusion, somehow, Garraud had managed to escape.

The spirits of both raised by companionship, they rode on side by side, hoping they were nearing Buonaparte. All day they marched, resting themselves and their horses occasionally, but with no food or water for either. It was just beginning to grow dark, when they descried in the distance the huts in which they had passed the night. When they reached the spot, darkness had closed over it. They could see no one, but the welcome challenge "Qui va la?" fell on their ears. The two men replied "Napoleon" and, at the same moment, a light was shown in their faces.

They found that a regiment of Chasseurs occupied the place and that General Buonaparte was with them. The main body was some few hours behind, and ought to be up before the morning.

Buonaparte's orders were that all couriers were to be conducted to him immediately on their arrival, so St. Just at once dismounted and, escorted by a sergeant's guard, made instantly for the General's tent. Two soldiers, with loaded carbines, stood before the entrance, and within could be seen the figure of Buonaparte writing on an old door, propped upon two blocks of stone to form a table.

At the challenge of the sentries, Buonaparte raised his head and saw the little group standing without. "What is it?" he said in a sharp, shrill voice.

"A courier, Sir," replied the sergeant, saluting.

Buonaparte saw and recognized St. Just, who was standing a little behind the soldier. "Ah, from the advance guard at--"

"Beda, Sir."

"Despatches?"

"Delivered, Sir; but these are the reply;" handing in those Dessaix had given him on his return journey.

Buonaparte opened them, glanced at them, then said, "Did you encounter or see any force on your way here? For, on taking possession of this place, we saw many stragglers about in the far distance, apparently part of a large body of Bedouins."

"I cut my way through a band of the enemy--how many I can't say--last night, losing all my escort. Afterwards I fell in with a French infantry officer, whose party had been previously attacked by the same force."

"How many miles away?"

"Between twenty and thirty, Sir."

"Good." Then, rising, Buonaparte walked up and down his tent for a few minutes, his brows together, thinking deeply and evidently forgetful of St. Just's presence. Finally he turned to his impromptu table and wrote a few lines. These he sealed and addressed to the General in command at Alexandria, then handed the paper to St. Just. "Deliver this; join me again as soon as possible."

"Alone, Sir?"

"Yes, unless you can find an escort from Alexandria. Stay! When did you leave General Dessaix?"

"On the 8th in the evening, Sir."

"This is the 10th. You halted last at 11 to-day. Have you a good horse?"

"Yes, sir."

"Set off at six in the morning; it is now ten."

"Yes, sir."

"Go then, in the name of France." St. Just bowed and left the tent.

*CHAPTER V.*

At six o'clock next day St. Just set out, to plough his solitary way across the sandy desert. If it had been dreary on the first occasion, when he had the company of an escort, he found the sandy wastes, now that he was alone, almost unbearable. It was, therefore, with great delight that, after the first few hours of his journey, he encountered the main body of Buonaparte's army crawling like a gigantic snake across his path. But his satisfaction was but momentary, for the sights that met his eyes were heartrending. Horses in a lather of sweat from head to foot and scarce able to stand from fatigue and heat, were being cruelly urged with whip and spur to drag along the heavy guns and ammunition wagons, whose wheels were deeply embedded in the sand and could scarce be got to move. Ever and anon some of the exhausted animals would fall down dead. Then the guns would have to be abandoned, sometimes for hours, until a detachment of infantry had been brought up and transformed into beasts of burden by being yoked to them, when the sluggish march of the artillery would be recommenced.

Often St. Just passed men, who, overcome by fatigue, could no longer walk, and had been left in the wake of the army, to follow afterwards, if they could; if not, to die where they were, of thirst and exhaustion, under the sun's scorching rays.

Many of these poor creatures cried out to him piteously for help; but he was absolutely powerless to relieve them, and, moreover, was the bearer of despatches which he had been charged to deliver with all speed.

Here and there, half buried in the sand, could be seen the putrefying bodies of both men and animals (horses and mules and here and there a camel) that had died, some of want, some of fatigue, some of illness, and a few of Arab wounds. In some cases only a few whitening bones remained of what a few hours before had been creatures instinct with activity and life; the loathsome vultures having picked off all the flesh.

Towards night he halted and, wrapping his cloak around him, he laid himself on the ground, his head resting on his horse's shoulder, the reins tightly knotted to his wrist, and soon dropped asleep, awakening only with the dawn. The next day he met with a terrible disappointment. On gaining the pool where he had intended to give his horse a drink and to replenish his own water-bottle, he found it dry, the marching army having drained it of every drop. With his tongue almost rattling in his mouth, so parched was it, and his poor horse in the same condition, he was riding on dejectedly, when, happening to cast his eyes around, he noticed a cloud of dust upon his left. The French could scarcely be in that direction; the disturbance must be due to Bedouins. At all hazards he must avoid capture; should his despatches fall into the enemy's hands, the consequences would certainly be serious, and might be fatal. He urged his jaded, thirsty steed to pace its best, and the noble animal responded bravely to his call.

He managed to escape the desert horsemen, but this would have availed him little, had not assistance come, for both man and horse were thoroughly pumped out and could proceed no further. St. Just felt his charger sway beneath him, and, to avoid falling with him, threw himself from the saddle only a moment before the exhausted animal rolled over. Then, just when he had resigned himself with all the philosophy he could command to the consciousness that, in a few hours at most, the carrion desert birds would be stripping the flesh from his bones and from his horse's, he heard a muffled tread, and, shortly afterwards, a troop of French Hussars, who were bringing up the rear guard, came in sight.

Seeing the exhausted condition of both rider and horse, and learning from St. Just that he was the bearer of important despatches from Buonaparte to General Kleber at Alexandria, the officer in command of the troop rendered the young aide-de-camp all the assistance in his power and detailed two of his troopers to accompany him on his journey, and to return with him to Buonaparte's headquarters.

After a few hours' rest and a supply of food and water, the young officer and his horse were sufficiently restored to proceed upon their way, and, on the fifth day after leaving General Buonaparte, he, accompanied by the two hussars, entered Alexandria and delivered his despatches to General Kleber.

Two days after, St. Just, with the two hussars for escort, left Alexandria for the second time, bearing reply despatches from Kleber to Buonaparte, and made his way as rapidly as he could to Damanhour, where he expected to find the Commander-in-Chief. This place he reached in two days, but only to find that Buonaparte had gone forward towards Cairo. So St. Just had to follow.

It was reported by patrols that Mourad Bey, who had been recently defeated at Chebreissa, had posted skirmishers on the route to Cairo, to harass, even if they could not check, the French advance.

St. Just, therefore, asked for and obtained from the officer in command at Damanhour, an escort of thirty-three men, in addition to the two he already had, the troopers detailed for the purpose being selected from the squadron that had succored him when in such distress on his way to Alexandria.

Thus accompanied, he pushed on as fast as the horses could be made to go; for this carrying of despatches long distances in such a country was becoming irksome to him, and he longed to be fighting battles again, as he had fought when a lieutenant in Italy under Augereau.

Early on the morning of the 21st, St. Just and his troopers came to a village, where, they had been told by the French commandant at the last post, they would find remounts. Here reports reached them that Buonaparte was heavily engaged at Embabe, the next village, hard by those wondrous pyramids which had been built in the past ages of Egypt's glory.

At this news, they hurried forward; and soon could hear the distant sounds of musketry and cannon borne from afar upon the still, clear air. Both men and horses were excited by the noise and, though it was necessary to husband the strength of their fresh mounts, for they might have to take part in the action then proceeding, the men were bent upon joining their comrades with all speed.

Their route lay a little to the left, the Nile being on their right; but, judging from the firing that the French were occupying a portion of the road to Gizeh, St. Just and his men rode to the right, so as to cut off an angle.

It was now noon and the sun's rays were beating down pitilessly upon their heads when they came upon the first signs of the conflict.

They had drawn up their panting horses upon a little knoll to recover their wind, before bearing their riders on to the battle field below; and St. Just, on dismounting, had plenty of leisure to observe the scene. Ordering his hussars and their horses to lie down, that they might be as little conspicuous as possible, St. Just crept forward and, gaining a point of vantage, watched the movements of the combatants. Thick clouds of smoke, through which at frequent intervals could be seen streaks of flame, followed by the report of guns, hovered over the Frenchmen on his left; while, on the right, gleaming in the sunlight, were the tents of the Mameluke camp. Beyond, rose the distant banks of the Nile, and further away the huts of Boulac, a suburb of the city of Cairo. Dotted about the plain were swarms of Arab horsemen, their bright mail sparkling. A body of them were massing into formation in a last attempt to break the French squares.

St. Just had seen enough. It was plain to him that, so soon as the sun should have declined, General Buonaparte, knowing that the horses of the Mamelukes must be tired from their repeated charges, would launch his cavalry against them in the hope of cutting in two the mass of horsemen. Accordingly, he resolved to try to gain the French lines; but, to do so, it would be necessary to cut their way through a body of the enemy who were drawn up between them and their goal. Creeping cautiously back to his men, he gave the order to mount. Then, having drawn them up four deep in a square, he put himself at their head, and led them round the further side of the knoll; then bade them charge the Mamelukes. When within forty yards of the opposing squadron, the hussars fired their pistols, then, like a torrent, dashed upon their enemy. Now, though the charge was a courageous act, it was also a very foolish one, for their foes were quite a hundred strong, and considering that the hussars' pistols had been fired at the gallop, certainly not more than twenty out of the possible thirty-six shots could have killed a man apiece, and probably not half that number. For thirty-six men to attack nearly, if not quite, a hundred, was a reckless act; but St. Just's blood was up, and so they charged. He hardly knew what followed, except that there was a general melee and clashing of weapons; then, somehow, he found himself on the ground. His next impression was that he was being pulled to his feet, and that a French voice was saying in his ear, "Diable! Monsieur, that was a fine charge; but I thought none of you would have come out of it."

St. Just, whose head was still confused, stumbled up, and found himself in the midst of a squadron of the Guards, and that the person who had addressed him was the young lieutenant in whose company he had ridden on his first journey across the desert.

"Ah, Garraud, my friend, we are quits now; I pulled you through last time; your men have done the same for me on this occasion."

"It's superb!" The exclamation was drawn from both by the magnificently reckless way their enemies were charging. Men were falling in heaps around them. One man at their feet had just had his stomach ripped up with a curved sword, and lay shrieking in his agony, while his intestines gushed out upon the ground. A stallion, badly hurt, was biting and tearing the wounded men around him; while, across his body, five of the barbarians were fighting tooth and nail within arm's length of the square. Here again could be seen men hurling themselves and their horses upon the French bayonets, dying agonizing deaths only too gladly, if, for one instant, they could find themselves within the square.

Meanwhile St. Just had not been idle. A man was advancing from amidst the host of warriors, apparently bearing a charmed life. He was mounted upon a splendid gray stallion, whose beauty aroused the envy, as much as the superb horsemanship and courageous bearing of the rider excited the admiration of St. Just. The youthful warrior, having failed to break the square, retired for a few yards, then coming on with a yell, he leaped it and landed in the center. But he paid for his rashness with his life. Almost before the horse's feet had touched the ground, St. Just had fired. The next instant, he had mounted the Arab's horse, and shouting "Au revoir! I am off to Buonaparte," in imitation of the late owners tactics, he leaped out of the square.

A roar of despair and rage went up from the opposing Arabs, but almost instantly it was drowned by a ringing cheer from the French. St. Just landed upon a group of horsemen who were being charged, at the same instant, by Dessaix and his cavalry.

"El J: The fiend!" the Bedouins cried, at his sudden appearance in their midst, smiting right and left, his horse almost as excited as himself.

Utterly demoralized, their superstition, for the moment, getting the better of them, they could make no stand against the French, who rode them down like sheep. Though falling by hundreds, the French cavalry accomplished their mission and separated the two bodies of Mamelukes, thus relieving the hard pressed guns.

And so the fight went on; frenzied now, on the Mamelukes' part, for they were fighting in despair. Another hour and they were flying, leaving Buonaparte master of the way to Cairo.

Meanwhile St. Just had ridden past the rear of the French army and was making for the center, where he found Buonaparte sitting motionless on his horse, watching the battle. St. Just--both he and his horse begrimed with dust--presented himself before the General, a little pale with fatigue, and with a slight sword cut on his cheek, his head bare, and his saber-tache riddled with bullets. But his eyes were sparkling with success when he handed to Buonaparte his despatches. "From General Kleber, Sir, from Alexandria."

Buonaparte continued to fix his eyes upon the battle and made no attempt to open the papers, holding them in one hand, while, with the other, he placed a telescope to his eye. No one spoke, all intently watching the man who, it was beginning to dawn on them, was no ordinary general.

At last he spoke. Turning to an aide near him, he shut up his field glass with a snap. "Tell the right wing to charge." Then, addressing himself to the others, "Gentlemen, the battle is ended; we can march upon Cairo to-morrow. You, Sir," addressing St. Just, "I thank in the name of France and of the Army."

And, even while he spoke, the sun hid itself below the horizon, and the pall of coming night settled upon the field of blood and the disheartened enemy now in full retreat.

*CHAPTER VI.*

Throughout the night of the 21st of July, the darkness was intermittently illumined by the flashes of musketry which from time to time resounded from the direction of the village of Gizeh, whither Mourad Bey had retreated with the remainder of his Mamelukes--about two thousand--leaving his infantry to their fate in the intrenched camp on the bank of the Nile. St. Just passed the night under the shadow of the sphinx, having, like many others, no proper place of rest--for the army was without tents--and too tired to think of anything but sleep.

Early on the following morning he received the order to mount and proceed at the head of a squadron of Guides, about fifty strong, to help the detachment which was pressing on towards Gizeh, and, if possible, afterwards to advance to Cairo. Accordingly, mounted on the gray stallion which had stood him in such stead on the previous day, he placed himself at the head of his squadron and set out at a smart trot for Gizeh. The infantry, who were attacking the place, and to whose aid he had been sent, had found great difficulty in advancing, for the road to Gizeh had been one of the hottest points in the battle of the previous day. At last, however, the outskirts of the village had been reached, and here it was that St. Just and his Guides came up with them. Mourad Bey made repeated dashes, hoping to lead to victory the dispirited remnants of his followers; but it was not to be; St. Just and his Guides hurled themselves through the sea of fire--the blazing houses--that separated them from the enemy's ranks. Despite the clouds of pungent smoke and the myriads of sparks that fell upon them, they forced their way, supported by the infantry who had taken fresh heart at their arrival, with such vigor that, after a short but sharp encounter, they put the Mamelukes to rout. That night General Buonaparte slept at Gizeh in the Bey's country house.

St. Just and his troopers, now reduced to thirty, followed in the Bey's track to the Nile bank, but were prevented from crossing the river by the destruction of the bridge of boats that had led to the Mameluke fleet. Thus checked in his advance, he rested his men in a hut hard by the river side, while he considered what course he should pursue.

Before he had come to a decision, he noticed a good deal of activity on board the vessels in the river, and that, from some of them, smoke was beginning to ascend. Instantly he understood what was going on. They were firing them, to prevent their falling into the hands of the French.

Now St. Just concluded that, if the Egyptians thought the vessels worth the burning, there must be valuable cargo on board, and that they were worth the saving. Forthwith he resolved to do his best with that intent.

Leaving half his men and all the horses, posted at the hut, he marched on foot with the remainder to the river. Several boats were moored along the bank, and one of these they seized, and in it they rowed down the river towards the burning dahabeahs, St. Just's intention being to cut some of them adrift, in the hope of afterwards capturing them.

But he had reckoned without his host, for the vessels had been too successfully set alight. There was a strong wind blowing, and the flames and smoke were such that he could not get near enough to cast the vessels from their moorings. Again and again he and his brave men renewed the attempt, but only to be as often driven back by the scorching heat. But, worse even than the flames, the enemy, who had marked them while they were some distance from the vessels, poured in a deadly fire of musketry. One by one his men kept dropping, and St. Just soon saw that it was no longer a question of capturing the enemy's ships, but of saving their own lives.

Meanwhile the ships burned furiously, producing such a light that the French troops at Gizeh could see dimly amid the crimson gleams the distant minarets and gilded cupolas of Cairo.

St. Just gave orders to row back to their starting point, close to which he had posted the remainder of his troop.

But soon he found that their retreat in that direction was cut off; for, while he and his men had been busy trying to cut adrift the burning, as well as the yet unlighted, dahabeahs, swarms of Arabs had put off in boats and had collected in their rear.

To turn the boat's head round and row towards Cairo seemed the only thing to be done, and even the risk of this was terrible, their safety depending upon General Buonaparte's having captured the city. His fifteen men were now reduced to eight, seven having fallen beneath the Mamelukes' fusillade. St. Just sat in the stern of the boat steering, pondering meanwhile on the peril of their situation and their chances of escape. He knew that some of the French troops were already moving on Cairo; and, from scraps of conversation picked up round the camp fires on the previous night, he entertained little doubt that Buonaparte would enter the city, either by storming it, or otherwise, at dawn on the following day.

Now if he, St. Just, could get into Cairo, with his men, unseen, and quietly take possession of some house, they would probably be able to maintain themselves secure in it till General Buonaparte's arrival. And this was what he set himself to do. But how to do it was the difficulty. The light from the conflagration on the river was so great that, were they to attempt to land in their French uniforms, they would be instantly discovered by the lawless and turbulent hordes scattered up and down the river banks, plundering and fighting and murdering in all directions, and would be quickly set upon, overcome and killed.

Their position was desperate, and desperate remedies were required; and the plan St. Just evolved was desperate, and depended also on chance for its accomplishment. Having explained it to his men, he ordered them to lie up under the shadow of some vessels moored in mid-stream and as yet untouched by the fire, just keeping the boat from drifting, and to wait for the chance of capturing a passing boat with Arabs on board, his intention being to massacre the crew for the sake of their clothes, which his own men would then put on; then they were to watch their opportunity to get ashore in the confusion that everywhere prevailed.

There is an old proverb to the effect that all things come to those who wait, if they but wait long enough; and so it was in this case. The men were sitting listlessly, tired of their inactivity, when a sudden cry brought them back to attention. Bearing down upon them was a large boat manned by about a dozen Arabs. A shaft of light cast from some burning wreckage floating by upon the encrimsoned waters in their direction, had betrayed to the approaching boat that in one of their own craft were some of the hated invaders. It was their fierce cry that awakened St. Just and his crew to a conviction of their danger. Ping! Ping! went the bullets from the Arab matchlocks, and at the same moment St. Just shouted, "Only two men row; the rest lie in the boat and fire at the Arab rowers. Take careful aim and don't throw away a shot. Your lives depend upon it."

The men obeyed at once. Crack, crack. Two of the Frenchmen had fired, and two of the Arabs threw up their arms and fell in a huddled heap at the bottom of their dhow. Almost immediately a wild volley was fired by the Arabs, and one of the Frenchmen, whose head had been exposed to the light, toppled over the side of the boat into the Nile, a bullet in his brain; giving his comrades a brief view of his face, ere he sank beneath the waters in the ruddy light.

St. Just's measures were prompt and decisive, and his voice rang out like a clarion on the night. "A volley, all of you; then pick up your oars and row for them as hard as you can go."

The order was as promptly obeyed. The seven shots flew straight and, before the Arabs could recover from the confusion they had occasioned, the French picked up their oars, crashed into them and boarded them. A few moments later, there drifted down the Nile an empty boat; while, pulling for the distant domes, which marked the city of Cairo, were eight men dressed as Arabs and speaking French.

*CHAPTER VII.*

The flames from the burning vessels on the river wrapped the city of Cairo in a lurid glow, and above it hovered a cloud of smoke, but which the breeze that heralds the approach of dawn, was gradually, though almost imperceptibly dispersing. The air was rent with cries and groans and yells. The thoroughfares were thronged with the panic-stricken citizens. Some, laden with goods, were fleeing with their families into the desert towards Philiae; others, their clothes torn and blood-stained, their muskets still in their hands, their dress proclaiming them to be soldiers who, routed in that day's fight, had fled for refuge to the city, were occupying themselves with pillaging the houses of the merchants.

In marked contrast to the general glare and din, one little narrow side street near the citadel remained wrapped in gloom and silence. Running parallel to the river, as it did, the houses on its river side shut out the light of the conflagration and only a faint reflection was visible overhead.

Hugging the walls of the houses on one side of this court--for it scarce merited the name of street, so narrow was it--St. Just and his followers, enveloped in "haic" and "burnous," crept stealthily and silently along. No one was about, nor was a light to be seen in any of the houses.

So far their venture had been successful; aided by the semi-darkness and the confusion that was prevailing in the busier parts of the city, where the crowd had drawn together, St. Just had managed to run his boat ashore on an unfrequented spot and to land unnoticed. Then separating, the better to escape observation, but still keeping close enough together for mutual help, should they be attacked, they had made their way towards the citadel and had joined a mob that was pouring into its gates. At that point, however, St. Just had turned aside to investigate the little street which seemed deserted.

He and his men had almost reached the top, when, suddenly, a piercing shriek rang out upon the stillness of the night. It came from a house St. Just was passing. He halted instantly; then, in the shrill and fearsome tones of a woman, came some words in Arabic. Now, during the few weeks the young officer had been in Egypt he had, in his journeyings with despatches, contrived to pick up a few words of Arabic; and the knowledge thus acquired now stood him in good stead. Thus he could translate the woman's cry, "Let me go; Yusuf, let me go!"

What Frenchman could listen unmoved to such a call for help? Certainly not St. Just. In a whisper, he told the man next to him to close up and pass the same order on from each man to the one behind him. Then he cast his eyes up and down the house; it was a tall stone building and white-washed, and was windowless, save that high up from the ground were a few square holes protected by bars of iron. A strong iron-studded door, set deep in a stone archway, formed the entrance to this house.

Earnestly as St. Just desired to go to the rescue of the shrieking woman, the door was too strong to be forced, except after continued and strenuous efforts, and there was no other possible entrance from the front. He was debating whether to try to make his way round to the back of the house, in the hope of there finding a means of getting in, when, all at once, the heavy door swung open, and a swarthy Arab came out, bearing on his shoulders a woman, who was either dead or senseless, for she made no movement. With the opening of the door, the light from within fell upon St. Just and those behind him, disclosing to the man's astonished eyes that they were not Arabs, but Frenchmen. St. Just made a forward movement; the Arab hesitated for a moment, then dropped his burden and turned and fled into the house again.

St. Just's action was speedy. Fate seemed to be playing into his hands. Here was a house that might serve them for a refuge and that, to all appearance, could be defended for some hours, at any rate, by the small body of men he had at his disposal. At once he decided to take possession of it. Turning to the two nearest men, he said, "Pick up the woman, and take her inside." Then to the others, "Follow me, then close the door and make it fast."

His orders were promptly carried out. Then the party--two of them bearing the still unconscious woman--traversed the length of a narrow passage lighted by a small brass lamp that hung from the ceiling. At the end of this they found themselves in an open court, in the center of which a marble fountain was playing, the water falling into the basin with the sound of gentle rain, and moistening the air with its tumid spray.

At the further side of the courtyard was a colonnade, and above it were the latticed windows of the women's apartments, now open. But no dusky beauties peeped from them, nor was there any sign or sound of life; the whole place was silent as the grave.

Leaving one man as a sentry in the corridor, and despatching four to make a thorough search of the premises, St. Just told the two who were carrying the woman, to lay her down on a marble seat under the colonnade. This done, he set himself to restore her, if so be that she still lived. There were signs that she had struggled with her abductor, for, half way across the courtyard, they found a richly embroidered shawl and a jeweled dagger. A short examination showed St. Just that the woman breathed, and he could find no marks of injury about her. He sprinkled water on her face and fanned her and rubbed her hands; but, despite all his efforts to revive her, she remained insensible.

St. Just was still thus occupied, when the four men he had sent on a tour of inspection through the house, returned, each carrying a lighted lantern, to report that they had found not a soul about the place, though, from the appearance of the rooms, it was plain that the inmates had but recently vacated them.

While receiving his men's report, St. Just had temporarily stayed his efforts to revive the fainting woman, and had faced the troopers. Now he looked to her again. The men had turned their lanterns on her; her headgear had fallen to the ground, disclosing to the young officer's astonished gaze a face of such rare beauty as he had not even dreamed of. She was quite young and, for an Eastern woman, singularly fair; she had hair of a golden brown and dark blue eyes, and a mouth about which now lurked as sweet a smile as ever brightened woman's face.

For the light shining in her eyes had completed her awakening, and, at the moment when St. Just became conscious of her surpassing loveliness, she was gazing in bewilderment upon the group around her. In a few seconds, she recognized them as the invaders of her country, and, at the same time, remembered what had led to her unconsciousness.

Then, to the astonishment of her hearers, she thus addressed them, speaking in excellent French and a clear, musical voice.

"Messieurs, the fortune of war has thrown into your hands a woman who has some claim to call herself a French woman. My mother was captured by a slaver when traveling from France at the time of the death of Louis Quinze, whose soul may God preserve. All my life have I spoken your tongue, and, because of the French blood in me, I have cursed the slavery in which, in this country, we women are held.

"I thank you for your timely help. You have saved me from a fate worse than death.

"And now I will order the slaves to bring you some refreshment."

And, rising with difficulty, though not without grace and dignity, despite her stiffness and the novelty of her position, she made as though to walk to the colonnade.

"Mademoiselle!"

She stopped and faced the speaker, fixing her eyes intently upon his face. St. Just bowed low before her. She might have been an Empress; but his respect was a tribute only to her beauty.

"Mademoiselle," he repeated, "I regret to inform you that I have just learned that, save yourself and us, there is no one in the house."

"Is that indeed so?" she answered, bowing on her part. "Then I pray you order your men to forage for themselves. If you care to accompany me, I will show you where the stores are."

He turned to the men and said, "Hunt about, lads, and eat what you can; for, if that black rascal returns with any more of his friends, we shall have to stand a siege and fight for our skins, and" (after a pause) "the lady's."