g 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 oppos