"Fiends of hell!" echoed Front-de-Boeuf, "it was then the boar of Rotherwood whom I ushered to the postern, and dismissed with my own hands!--And thou," he said to Wamba, "whose folly could overreach the wisdom of idiots yet more gross than thyself--I will give thee holy orders--I will shave thy crown for thee!--Here, let them tear the scalp from his head, and then pitch him headlong from the battlements--Thy trade is to jest, canst thou jest now?"
- Ördög-pokol! - toporzékolt Front-de-Boeuf. - Akkor hát a rotherwoodi dúvad volt, akit magam vezettem a hátsó kapuhoz, és engedtem ki! De te - fordult Wambához -, kinek bolond esze túltett a nálad is nagyobb hülyék okosságán, te megkapod a jutalmadat!