“Donner and blitz! [thunder and lightning!]” was his first salutation, in a sort of German French, which we can only imperfectly imitate, “Why have you kept me dancing in attendance dis dree nights?”
“I could not see you sooner, Meinherr,” said Hayraddin, very submissively, “there is a young Scot, with as quick an eye as the wildcat, who watches my least motions. He suspects me already, and, should he find his suspicion confirmed, I were a dead man on the spot, and he would carry back the women into France again.”
“Was henker! [what the deuce!]” said the lanzknecht, “we are three—we will attack them tomorrow, and carry the women off without going farther. You said the two valets were cowards—you and your comrade may manage them, and the Teufel [the devil] shall hold me, but I match your Scots wildcat.”
“You will find that foolhardy,” said Hayraddin, “for besides that we ourselves count not much in fighting, this spark hath matched himself with the best knight in France, and come off with honour—I have seen those who saw him press Dunois hard enough.”
“Hagel and sturmwetter! [hail and stormy weather!] It is but your cowardice that speaks,” said the German soldier.
“I am no more a coward than yourself,” said Hayraddin “but my trade is not fighting.—If you keep the appointment where it was laid, it is well—if not, I guide them safely to the Bishop's Palace, and William de la Marck may easily possess himself of them there, provided he is half as strong as he pretended a week since.”
“Poz tausend! [Zounds!]” said the soldier, “we are as strong and stronger, but we hear of a hundreds of the lances of Burgund,—das ist, see you,—five men to a lance do make five hundreds, and then hold me the devil, they will be fainer to seek for us, than we to seek for them, for der Bischoff hath a goot force on footing—ay, indeed!”
“You must then hold to the ambuscade at the Cross of the Three Kings, or give up the adventure,” said the Bohemian.
“Geb up—geb up the adventure of the rich bride for our noble hauptman [leader or captain]—Teufel! I will charge through hell first.—Mein soul, we will be all princes and hertzogs, whom they call dukes, and we will hab a snab at the wein kellar [wine cellar], and at the mouldy French crowns, and it may be at the pretty garces too [meaning the countesses], when He with de beard is weary on them.”
“The ambuscade at the Cross of the Three Kings then still holds?” said the Bohemian.