About the beginning of the moon of Baby-el-Alonel, the year of Higera 1213, otherwise 3d Thermidor, year VII., otherwise 21st July 1798, I happened to be reposing on a bed of reeds, and was awakened by a strange noise. Clouds of dust rose round the village of Embabeh. Two great armies were advancing to close in battle. On the one side the Arabs, the Mamelouks with breastplates of gold, the Keayas and the Beys mounted on superb horses. The other was a foreign army, made up of soldiers wearing black felt hats with red feathers, blue or rather dirty white uniforms and trousers. The commander was a slight, short, thin man. I pitied the human beings who were led by such a weak creature, hardly a mouthful for a Crocodile.
The little man uttered a few words, at the same time pointing to the pyramids, after which the cannonade began, the guns belched forth their fire and shot, while shells whistled and exploded among the Crocodiles, laying some of them low. That was a fatal day, the turning point in my history. The invaders carried off a gigantic column, placed it on board ship and transported it to one of the finest cities in Europe. The inscriptions on this stone have never been deciphered; I am told the meaning runs thus:—
“Worship good living,
Let your belly be your god.
Selfishness is a virtue
When practised voluntarily.
You must never take the obelisk
By force or by consent,
Two millions must you pay
If you take it unjustly.”