"It seems impossible, yet it is the truth, Mohammed Ali," replied Bardissi, drawing himself up proudly. "I tell you, three thousand Turks and hardly sixty Mamelukes; and ours is the battle-field. Those of the Turks who were not shot down or sabred have fled to bear to Cairo the disastrous intelligence--that eight hundred Mamelukes have vanquished over three thousand Turks led by Youssouf Bey, the _kiaya_ of the viceroy. The proud man is defeated, and may return to Cairo with the miserable remnants of his magnificence to announce his disgrace. I tell you, Mohammed, it was a wondrous battle! Youssouf Bey had drawn up his army on the plain of Damanhour, behind them their artillery. While we were forming in front of them, their artillery began to thunder; it was to carry death into our ranks, and it succeeded. Fearful was the first shock! I began to fear lest my men should flinch. I called to them in a loud voice, and with them bore down upon the enemy with the speed of the lightning, regardless of the thundering artillery. But its discharges were murderous, and I saw that it was impossible to advance farther in this direction. We then turned, and, before the Turks could take measures to prevent it, fell upon their unprotected left flank and bore down upon their ranks. The first rank, surprised and terrified by my sudden flank attack, gave way, and their infantry was thrown into disorder. The blows of our ataghans fell thick and fast. The enemy turned and fled in wild disorder, we following them. Mohammed Ali, the slaughter was dreadful! Eight hundred Mamelukes vanquished over three thousand Turks! Sheik Arnhyn's Bedouins, who are now on the field, can show you the rich spoils. Let them rob the dead; for me and mine, who scorn to do this, spoils enough still remain; we have captured all their artillery, and munitions of war in abundance. `It was a glorious day,' so say the Mameluke beys. `It was a disastrous day,' will the viceroy, throned in the proud citadel at Cairo, lament.