“The Bridge of Buda,” instantly replied the terrified prisoner beneath the pelisse of Iskander.
“Why did not you answer before, then?” said one of the guards.
“And why do you mock us by changing your voice?” said another. “Come, get on with you, and no more jokes.”
Iskander proceeded through a street of tents, in some of which were lights, but all of which were silent. At length, he met the esquire of a Polish knight returning from a convivial meeting, not a little elevated.
“Who are you?” inquired Iskander.
“I am an Esquire,” replied the gentleman.
“A shrewd man, I doubt not, who would make his fortune,” replied Iskander. “You must know great things have happened. Being on guard I have taken a prisoner, who has deep secrets to divulge to the Lord Hunniades. Thither, to his pavilion, I am now bearing him. But he is a stout barbarian, and almost too much for me. Assist me in carrying him to the pavilion of Hunniades, and you shall have all the reward, and half the fame.”
“You are a very civil spoken young gentleman,” said the Esquire. “I think I know your voice. Your name, if I mistake not, is Leckinski?”
“A relative. We had a common ancestor.”
“I thought so. I know the Leckinskies ever by their voice. I am free to help you on the terms you mention—all the reward and half the fame. ‘Tis a strong barbarian, is it? We cannot cut his throat, or it will not divulge. All the reward and half the fame! I will be a knight to-morrow. It seems a sort of fish, and has a smell.”