The Egyptians are a few tens of yards from the Libyan columns. The command, the trumpets, the drums sound hurriedly, and the troops move at a run: one--two--three! one--two--three! But on the side of the enemy also a trumpet is heard, two ranks of spears are lowered, drums beat. At a run! New rolls of dust rise, then they unite in one immense cloud. The roar of human voices, the rattle of spears, the biting of scythes, then a shrill groan which is soon lost in one general uproar. Along the whole line of battle neither men, nor weapons, nor even columns are visible, nothing but a line of yellow dust stretching along like a giant serpent. The denser cloud signifies places where the columns are struggling; the thinner, where there are breaks in the columns. After some minutes of satanic uproar the heir sees that the dust on his left wing is bending back very slowly. "Strengthen the left wing!" shouts Rameses. One half of the reserve runs to the place pointed out, and disappears in the sand cloud; the left wing straightens itself, the right goes forward slowly always in one direction. "Strengthen the centre!" cries Rameses. The second half of the reserve advances and vanishes in the sand cloud. The shout increased for a moment, but no forward movement is visible. "Those wretches fight desperately," said an old officer of the suite to Rameses. "It is high time that Mentezufis were here." The prince summoned the leader of the Asiatic cavalry. "But look to the right," said he; "there must be a bend there." "Go cautiously so as not to trample our warriors and attack those dogs in their central column, on the flank." "They must be chained, for somehow they stand too long," replied the Asiatic, smiling. The prince has now about two hundred of his own cavalry, and these advance, with the others, at a trot, crying,-- "May our chief live forever!" The heat passes description. The prince strains eyes and ears to see through the sand cloud. He waits--and waits. All at once he shouts with delight. The centre of the cloud quivers and moves forward slightly. Again it stops, again it moves forward--slowly, very slowly, but still it moves forward. The din is so tremendous that no one can decide what it means: rage, defeat, or victory. Now the right wing begins to bend outward and withdraw in a strange manner. In the rear of the wing appears a new dust cloud. At the same moment Pentuer races up, dismounts, and shouts,-- "Patrokles is engaging the rear of the Libyans!" The confusion on the right wing increases, and is passing to the centre. It is clear that the Libyans are beginning to withdraw, and that panic is seizing even their main column. The whole staff of the prince, roused to the uttermost, follows the movements of the yellow dust, feverishly. In a few minutes alarm appears on the left wing. The Libyans have begun to flee in that quarter. "May I never see another sun, if this is not a victory!" cried a veteran officer.