Although Muhammad Ali had kicked his opium and womanizing habits, at seventy-nine he knew all too well that his days were numbered.
From a beggar to a ruler who held sway over a realm, from a would-be conqueror who twice tried to claim the world to the weak monarch he was today, forced to look to the Great Powers even when he won.
Muhammad Ali felt he had seen through everything. Egypt alone could never stand against all of Europe and the Ottoman Empire.
To swallow the Ottoman Empire and all of Africa, he had to exploit the rivalries among the Great Powers, bait them into fighting one another, and let Egypt profit from the turmoil.
Give him another hundred years, and the whole world would grovel at his feet. But Muhammad Ali himself had no hope of living to see it. Fortunately, he had descendants.
Now, Muhammad Ali was determined to pave the way for his children and grandchildren.
His arrival had actually taken Franz somewhat by surprise. According to the rules of the conference, there was no need for the monarchs and heads of state to attend; the delegates were all ambassadors.
Muhammad Ali had not lowered himself, either. He had handed the position of Pasha of Egypt to his son, then attended the conference as an ambassador. But everyone knew that this old man, who was like a lion, was the true master of Egypt.
On the azure sea, the breeze blew softly. Muhammad Ali's ship was filled with his trusted men, and everyone savored this brief moment of peace.
Suddenly, a rapid knocking sounded, and the lookout shouted,
"A fleet is rapidly approaching!"
The sailors remained unmoved. One of Muhammad Ali's confidants explained,
"My lord, there's no need to worry. This is merely a routine maneuver