While I was speaking to him, I heard a noise in an adjoining room and saw the door opening.

Max and I barely escaped through an open arch when a commanding figure clad in light armor entered the tap-room.
I had not seen Charles of Burgundy since he was a boy--he was then Count of Charolois--but I at once knew with terrifying certainty that I looked on the most dreaded man in Europe.

He had changed greatly since I last had seen him.

He was then beardless; now he wore a beard that reached almost to his belt, and I should not have recognized in him the young Count of Charolois.

There was, however, no doubt in my mind concerning his identity.
Even had I failed to see the angry scar on his neck, of which I had often heard, or had I failed to note the lack of upper teeth (a fact known to all Europe) which gave his face an expression of savagery, I should have recognized him by his mien.