“Most dreadful news! O horror! O revenge! The English have destroyed Iskenderîyeh with their cruel guns! The English only, since the French, more honourable, fled from the hateful sight with tears of shame. Simply because the forts were being mended, and work was not relaxed at their command. But, praise to Allah, we have hurt them also. Quite half their fleet has been destroyed by our brave fire. After this, we give no quarter⁠—no, by Allah! It is holy war. Muhammad Tewfik is proclaimed a scoundrel. Our Arâbi is Dictator. The army is to be augmented fourfold by forced levies. I met a boy, no older than myself, who goes to fight. I go this minute to implore my father to let me likewise join the army in the field.”

“Thy age is but fifteen. O Lord, he must not go!” cried out his mother in an agony of apprehension.

“I am a man full-grown, proficient in all exercises that belong to war. As young as I are going. Think, it is against the English, O my mother⁠—thy vile enemies!”

Embracing her without a thought for her despair, he left her in great haste to find his father.