"I thank you, Osman Bey, you have saved my life."
"And I thank Allah that I was at your side and could save it."
Finally they succeed in getting over, and now they stand on the other shore. Bardissi embraces Mohammed, and congratulates him on their safe passage. He then grasps Youssouf's hand, and thanks him once more.
"Now, good Cousrouf, the days of your rule are numbered."
"Yes," murmured Mohammed to himself, "I, too, rejoice in your coming overthrow. O Allah, give us all victory, and give me vengeance!"
The passage of the troops is effected. The Albanians first rush to the bridge where the cannon are in position, cut down the gunners before they can give an alarm, and with the captured guns fire their first shots into Damietta.
The thunder of these shots arouses the enemy, who lie encamped in front of the fortress, and a bloody, fiercely-contested battle begins. But at its conclusion the allies, Bardissi and Mohammed Ali, enter Damietta in triumph. No quarter is given. They massacre all who fall into their hands; every house is sacked and then burned. On the square in front of Fort Lesbe, a column of soldiers, Cousrouf Pacha at its head, sitting proudly erect on his steed, still opposes them. He has been bravely fighting all along, fighting for life, for victory, for glory, but he has fought in vain; he prefers, however, to die at the head of his followers, than to flee, or fall into the hands of Mohammed Ali.
The enemy approaches. A ball strikes Cousrouf's horse, and it sinks to the ground. With difficulty he succeeds in extricating himself from his fallen steed.
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