procession to hurry to the shore, which presented many attractions.

Hundreds had now gathered on the strand, where the waves, like generous
robbers, washed ashore the booty they had seized during the night.

Even the women did not allow the wind to keep them back; for the two
strongest impulses of the human heart, avarice and the longing for
vengeance, drew them to the beach.

Some new object of desire appeared every moment; here lay the corpse of a
warrior, yonder his shattered chariot. If the latter had belonged to a
man of rank, its gold or silver ornaments were torn off, while the short
sword or battle-axe was drawn from the girdle of the lifeless owner, and
men and women of low degree, male and female slaves belonging to the
Hebrews and foreigners, robbed the corpses of the clasps and circlets of
the precious metal, or twisted the rings from the swollen fingers of the
drowned.

The ravens which had followed the wandering tribes and vanished during
the storm, again appeared and, croaking, struggled against the wind to
maintain their places above the prey whose scent had attracted them.

But the dregs of the fugitive hordes were still more greedy than they,
and wherever the sea washed a costly ornament ashore, there were fierce
outcries and angry quarrelling. The leaders kept aloof; the people, they
thought, had a right to this booty, and whenever one of them undertook to
control their rude greed, he received no obedience.

The pass to which the Egyptians had brought them within the last few
hours had been so terrible, that even the better natures among the
Hebrews did not think of curbing the thirst for vengeance. Even
grey-bearded men of dignified bearing, and wives and mothers whose looks
augured gentle hearts thrust back the few hapless foes who had succeeded
in reaching the land on the ruins of the war-chariots or baggage-wagons.
With shepherds' crooks and travelling staves, knives and axes, stones and
insults they forced their hands from the floating wood, and the few who
nevertheless reached the land were flung by the furious mob into the sea
which had taken pity on them in vain.

Their wrath was so great, and vengeance so sacred a duty, that no one
thought of the respect, the pity, the consideration, which are
misfortune's due, and not a word was uttered to appeal to generosity or
compassion or even to remind the people of the profit which might be
derived from holding the rescued soldiers as prisoner