The unsteady populace were again seized with terror; and, surrounding their governor with fresh clamours, obliged him to send forth ambassadors a second time to treat of a surrender. When admitted to the presence of Muza, the ambassadors could scarcely believe their eyes; or that this was the same withered, white-headed old man, of whom they had lately spoken with scoffing. His hair and beard were tinged of a ruddy brown; his countenance was refreshed by repose, and flushed with indignation; and he appeared a man in the matured vigour of his days. The ambassadors were struck with awe. “Surely,” whispered they, one to the other, “this must be either a devil or a magician, who can thus make himself old and young at pleasure!” Muza received them haughtily. “Hence!” said he, “and tell your people I grant them the same terms I have already proffered, provided the city be instantly surrendered; but, by the head of Mahomet, if there be any further delay not one mother’s son of ye shall receive mercy at my hands!” The deputies returned into the city pale and dismayed. “Go forth! go forth!” cried they, “and accept whatever terms are offered: of what avail is it to fight against men who can renew their youth at pleasure? Behold, we left the leader of the infidels an old and feeble man, and to-day we find him youthful and vigorous!”[42] The place was, therefore, surrendered forthwith, and Muza entered it in triumph. His terms were merciful. Those who chose to remain were protected in persons, possessions, and religion: he took the property of those only who abandoned the city, or had fallen in battle, together with all arms and horses, and the treasures and ornaments of the churches. Among these sacred spoils was found a cup, made of a single pearl, which a king of Spain, in ancient times, had brought from the temple of Jerusalem when it was destroyed by Nebuchadnezzar. This prize was presented by Muza to the caliph, and placed in the principal mosque of the city of Damascus.[43] Muza knew how to esteem merit even in an enemy. When Sacarus, the governor of Merida, appeared before him, he lauded him greatly for the skill and courage he had displayed in the defence of his city; and, taking off his own scimitar, which was of great value, girded it upon him with his own hands. “Wear this,” said he, “as a poor memorial of my admiration; a soldier of such virtue and valour is worthy of far higher honours.”