By cunning speeches he gained over to his cause some inhabitants of Acre who were fit to bear arms, and mingled them with the workmen constantly employed on the public works. He collected thus a little force which surprised and overthrew the assailants. The Mamelukes fled beyond the seas. Djezzar completed the glutting of his wrath by causing the women who had escaped the massacres to be flogged. They were then thrown naked into the bottom of the hold of a ship and sold in the slave markets of Constantinople. The trees of the garden were cut down, and even the cats of the harem were not spared in the general slaughter. Never had Djezzar better deserved his name. Then tranquillity returned to the town. And then one day one of those famous Mamelukes had the audacity to return to the palace. His name was Soliman. Djezzar recognised him immediately, and his features assumed such an expression of rage that all the officers present turned pale and instinctively closed their eyes. The pacha brandished his axe. "Wretch!" cried he. "What have you come to do here?" "To die at thy feet, for I prefer that fate to that of living at a distance from thee." The axe flashed in the light. "You know well, however, that Djezzar has never pardoned?" Soliman repeated his answer. The weapon fell. Twice, thrice, the same words resounded in the frozen silence. Death prowled about the room. Those present held their breath as at the pillow of a man at the point of death. At last the pacha threw down his axe and cried: "Djezzar will have pardoned for the first time in his life." By one of those changes of fortune in which destiny delights, this same Soliman replaced Djezzar as Pachalic of Acre. And no doubt, because he had experienced the value of mercy, he showed himself as good and as just as his predecessor had been cruel and licentious. There are, however, some traits in Djezzar's character which are marked by a certain humour. When his jests were not addressed to persons condemned to death or to victims whom he had just caused to be disfigured, they did not want for wit. Such was the answer which he gave to a Christian of St. Jean d'Acre. A merchant lived with his son in a house situated on the seashore. The ground floor was damp and unhealthy; the first floor airy and dry. The father lived above, as was right, the son contented himself with the lower part. To be brief, the son wanted to get married, which was quite reasonable, and persuaded his father to lend him his apartments for a fortnight. To this the old man consented readily, but when, on the sixteenth day, his children showed no disposition to restore him his lodging, he hazarded a timid protest.