asions on which the Egyptians had behaved
ignominiously, and had proved that they were unworthy of freedom and
inured to bow in servitude. Just as one Arab was now able to reduce a
host of his fellow-countrymen to subjection, so formerly three Greeks had
held them in bondage. He had known numberless instances of almost glad
submission on the part of freeborn Egyptians--peasants, village magnates,
and officials, even on his father's estates and farms. In Alexandria and
Memphis the sons of the soil had willingly borne the foreign yoke,
allowing themselves to be thrust into the shade and humbled by Greeks, as
though they were of a baser species and origin, so long only as their
religious tenets and the subtleties of their creed remained untouched.
Then he had seen them rise and shed their blood, yet even then only with
loud outcries and a promising display of enthusiasm. But their first
defeat had been fatal and it had required only a small number of trained
soldiers to rout them.

To make any attempt against a bold and powerful invader as the leader of
such a race would be madness; there was no choice but to rule his people
in the service of the enemy and so exert his best energies to make their
lot more endurable. His father's wiser and more experienced judgment had
decided that the better course was to serve his people as mediator
between them and the Arabs rather than to attempt futile resistance at
the head of Byzantine troops.

"Wretched and degenerate brood!" he muttered wrathfully, and he began to
consider whether he should not quit the spot and show the arrogant Arab
that one Egyptian, at any rate, still had spirit enough to resent his
contempt, or whether he should yet wait for the sake of the good cause,
and swallow down his indignation. No! he, the son of the Mukaukas, could
not--ought not to brook such treatment. Rather would he lose his life as
a rebel, or wander an exile through the world and seek far from home a
wider field for deeds of prowess, than put his free neck under the feet
of the foe.

But his reflections were disturbed by the sound of footsteps, and looking
round he saw the gleam of lanterns moving to and fro on the terrace,
turned directly on him. These must be Amru's servants come to conduct him
to their master, who, as he supposed, would now do him the honor to
receive him--tired out with hunting, no doubt, and stretched on his divan
while he imperiously informed his guest, as if he were som