The soldiers who have surrounded the palace see with wonder the
gates open, Bardissi and his followers as they rush forth, the
heavily-laden dromedaries, and the carriages filled with women. The
conflict begins, a fierce conflict, the musketry rattles, and
carries death into the ranks of both.
Erect on his war-horse Bardissi leads the van. He fights his way
through, his sword mows down the enemy like the scythe of death.
Youssouf, his faithful kachef, rides beside him. Like Bardissi, he
fights like a lion, and hews with his trusty sword a pathway through
the enemy's ranks. But suddenly a well-aimed ball strikes him, he
reels in his saddle, and falls with a low moan to the earth, while
Bardissi and his men press on.
He succeeds in fighting his way out of the city. Onward the whole
train flies toward Gheezeh.
Bardissi is wounded; his right hand bleeds, and blood is streaming
down his cheeks. Bardissi is wounded, yet he lives, and is saved. On
they press, and now they are no longer followed.
The soldiers have still much to do in Cairo. Let Bardissi flee with
his richly-laden dromedaries; let him depart from Cairo with his
Mamelukes; but let him return no more.
He draws rein now that the city is behind him; he looks back, and a
tear trickles down his cheek and mingles with his blood.
For whom was this tear?
He looks back toward Cairo, and murmurs: "O Mohammed, that you have
betrayed me; this is bitter!"
He then turns his horse and they proceed in their flight.
Pages:
592
593
594
595
596
597
598
599
600
601
602
603
604
605
606
607
608
609
610
611
612
613
614
615
616