In a crimson sash this singular horseman wore a dagger on the right side, and on the left a short crooked Moorish sword, and by a tarnished baldric over the shoulder hung the horn which announced his approach.

He had a swarthy and sunburnt visage, with a thin beard, and piercing dark eyes, a well formed mouth and nose, and other features which might have been pronounced handsome, but for the black elf locks which hung around his face, and the air of wildness and emaciation, which rather seemed to indicate a savage than a civilized man.
"He also is a Bohemian!" said the ladies to each other.

"Holy Mary, will the King again place confidence in these outcasts ?" "I will question the man, if it be your pleasure," said Quentin, "and assure myself of his fidelity as I best may." Durward, as well as the Ladies of Croye, had recognised in this man's dress and appearance the habit and the manners of those vagrants with whom he had nearly been confounded by the hasty proceedings of Trois Eschelles and Petit Andre, and he, too, entertained very natural apprehensions concerning the risk of reposing trust in one of that vagrant race.
"Art thou come hither to seek us ?" was his first question.

The stranger nodded.

"And for what purpose ?" "To guide you to the Palace of Him of Liege." "Of the Bishop ?" The Bohemian again nodded.
"What token canst thou give me that we should yield credence to thee ?" "Even the old rhyme, and no other," answered the Bohemian.
"The page slew the boar, The peer had the gloire." "A true token," said Quentin, "lead on, good fellow--I will speak farther with thee presently." Then falling back to the ladies, he said, "I am convinced this man is the guide we are to expect, for he hath brought me a password, known, I think, but to the King and me.