"But what are the Imperialists about?" said I; "something unusual is stirring by the side of the lake."
"Some Imperialists are launching a boat—and there are several men crowding into her."
"One tall fellow wears a red feather," said I.
"'Tis Rupert of Carlstein himself! For what can the old blockhead wish to sail on the lake, right under our batteries?"
"'Tis a fast day," said Karl, "and perhaps he is going to fish, supposing that our twenty-four pounders may have roused a few eels from the mud of the lake."
"Come, come, Herr Baron," said I, "the count is my particular friend, and I have to beg——"
"Pardon me, I forgot. One of course does not like to hear that man called a blockhead who may say to one some morning, 'My dear fellow, I have the most sincere respect for you—I love you as if you were my own son, the child of my dear defunct so and so. I will give with my daughter the chateau of Giezar, and my fief of Kœningratz, with 100,000 doubloons in hard and heavy cash.' Der Teufel! I would not like to hear him spoken of otherwise than in the highest strain of commendation; but come—another slice of the venison!"
"See—they have unfurled a white flag of truce."
"Then I hope your Scots at the Frankendör, will receive it as Arnheim received those with which I twice approached Wallenstein—that is, with a smart volley of musketry."
We snatched up our swords, and hurried down to the Frankendör, which we reached just as the boat grounded, and three men, one of whom bore a white standard displayed from a halbert, approached the gate that faced the lake.