"_Blitzen!_ Der brisoner first, he will hang pefore der herr brovost," and the half-drunk Lanzknecht thrust his wine-skin towards me. "Gentlemen--gentlemen! have you a care! See here, Viscompte," and Braccio whispered to Bellegarde. "My God!" said the latter; and then hastily, "Come on, Lowenthal! Let them go." "Let der brisoner drink. Would you debrife a boor man of his liquor?" replied Lowenthal, and to hide my face, I seized the skin, and raised it to my lips. Even Braccio held the torch away, and Von Lowenthal failed to recognise me in the half-light. My throat was red-hot with thirst, and sick as I was with shame, I drank greedily, and handed the wine-skin back to the German. "_Blitzen!_" he said, giving it a shake, "you drink like an honest man. Now, herr brovost, a health to Germany, in honest German wine. What! No! Then drink to der halter, man, and Lowenthal will knight you," swaying to and fro, he attempted to draw his sword. Matters were at a crisis, for Braccio was not to be trifled with any longer. At this juncture, Bellegarde and the others with him again intervened, and dragged Von Lowenthal away. The provost instantly pressed forwards with a hurried good-night. We did not go so fast, however, as not to perceive, from the noises behind us, that the Lanzknecht had subsided to earth, and was apparently abandoned there, with his wine-skin, by his companions. The sound of his voice, engaged in a drunken monologue, reached us. "Der rascal Braccio, der knight of der noose und halter. I will gif him der accolade. I----" But we lost the rest as we hurried on, the guards smiling to themselves, and Braccio very ill-tempered.