formed in battle line at Alexandria, at Gizeh, and in front of the
Pyramids. We marched in hot sunshine and through deep sand, where some
got so bedazzled that they saw water which they couldn't drink, and
shade that made them sweat; but we generally chewed up the Mamelukes,
and all the rest gave in when they heard Napoleon's voice.

He took possession of Upper and Lower Egypt, Arabia, and the capitals of
kingdoms that perished long ago, where there were thousands of statues
of all the evil things in creation, especially lizards--a thundering big
country, where one could get acres of land for as little as he pleased.

Well, while Napoleon was attending to his business inland, where he
intended to do some splendid things, the English, who were always trying
to make us trouble, burned his fleet at Aboukir. But our general, who
had the respect of the East and the West, who had been called "my son"
by the Pope, and "my dear father" by the cousin of Mahomet, resolved to
punish England, and to capture the Indies, in payment for his lost
fleet. He was just going to take us across the Red Sea into Asia--a
country where there were lots of diamonds, plenty of gold with which to
pay his soldiers, and palaces that could be used for etapes--when the
Mody made an arrangement with the Plague, and sent it down to put an end
to our victories. Then it was, Halt, all! And everybody marched off to
that parade from which you don't come back on your feet. Dying soldiers
couldn't take Saint Jean d'Acre, although they forced an entrance three
times with noble and stubborn courage. The Plague was too strong for us;
and it wasn't any use to say "Please don't!" to the Plague. Everybody
was sick except Napoleon. He looked fresh as a rose, and the whole army
saw him drinking in pestilence without being hurt a bit. How was that?
Do you call that natural?