So began the battle of the Pyramids. The result is too well known to
readers of contemporary history to need detailed statement here. All
day long it raged, and when night fell Cairo came with it. Napoleon,
worn out with fatigue, threw himself down on a pyramid to rest.

"Ah!" he said, as he breathed a sigh of relief, "what a glorious day!
We've beat 'em! Won't the Directory be glad? M. Barras will be more
M. Barrassed than ever." Then, turning and tapping on the door of
the massive pile, he whispered, softly: "Ah! Ptolemy, my man, it's
a pity you've no windows in this tomb. You'd have seen a pretty
sight this day. Kleber," he added, turning to that general, "do you
know why Ptolemy inside this pyramid and I outside of it are alike?"

"I cannot guess, General," said Kleber. "Why?"

"We're both 'in it'!" returned Napoleon, retiring to his tent.

Later on in the evening, summoning Bourrienne, the victor said to
him:

"Mr. Secretary, I have a new autograph. If Ptolemy can spell his
name with a 'p,' why shouldn't I? I'm not going to have history say
that a dead mummy could do things I couldn't. Pnapoleon would look
well on a state paper."

"No doubt," said Bourrienne; "but every one now says that you copy
Caesar. Why give them the chance to call you an imitator of Ptolemy
also?"