Part 13

"But why has she left you?" asked Ulenspiegel.

"How should I know?" Lamme replied. "Alas! gone for ever are those days when I used to go to her home a-courting! Then, verily, she would fly away from me, half in love and half in fear! And her arms were bare, as like as not (beautiful arms they were, so round and white), but if she saw me looking at them she would cover them quickly with the sleeve of her gown.

"At other times, again, she would gladly lend herself to my caresses, and I would kiss her closed eyes, and that lovely neck of hers, so large and firm. She would shiver all over, uttering little cries of love, and then, leaning her head backwards, she would give me a playful slap upon my nose. Thereafter she would laugh and I would cry aloud, and we would wrestle together right amorously, and there was naught betwixt us but laughter and fun. But there, there. Is any wine left in the bottle, Tyl?"

Tyl gave him what remained.

"This ham does great good to my stomach," he said.

"To mine also," answered Lamme, "but I shall never see my dear one again. She has fled away from Damme. What say you, will you come with me in my cart to look for her?"

"That will I," answered Ulenspiegel.

So they got up into the donkey-cart, and the donkey set up a most melancholy bray to celebrate their departure.

As for the dog, he had already made off, well filled, without a word to any one.

II

While the cart went lumbering along on the top of the dike, with the pond on one side and the canal on the other, Ulenspiegel sat brooding on the past and cherishing in his bosom the ashes of Claes. He pondered deeply upon that vision he had seen, and asked himself if indeed it were true or false, and if those spirits of Nature had been making mock of him, or if perchance they had been revealing to him under a figure those things that must be done if the land of his fathers were to be restored. In vain did he turn the matter over and over in his mind, for he could not discover what was meant by those words, the "Seven" and the "Cincture." He called to mind the late Emperor Charles V, the present King, the Governess of the Netherlands, the Pope of Rome, the Grand Inquisitor, and last of all, the General of the Jesuits--six great persecutors of his country whom most willingly would he have burned alive had he been able. But he was forced to conclude that none of these was the personage indicated, for that they were all too obviously worthy of being burnt, and would be in another place. And he could only go on repeating to himself those words of the Lord of the Spring:

When the North Shall kiss the West, Then shall be the end of ruin. Love the Seven, And the Cincture.

"Alas!" he cried, "in death, in blood, in tears, find the Seven, burn the Seven, love the Seven! What does it all mean? My poor brain reels, for who, pray, would ever want to burn that which he loved?"

The cart by this time had progressed a good way along the road, when all at once a sound was heard of some one stepping along the sand, and of a voice singing:

Oh, have ye seen him, ye that pass, The lover I have lost, alas! Feckless he wandereth, knowing no tie-- Have ye seen him pass by?

As tender lamb the eagle seizeth, So on my poor heart he feedeth. Beardless his chin, though to manhood nigh-- Have ye seen him pass by?

If ye find him, ye may tell Weary with following faints his Nele. O Tyl, my beloved, hear me, I cry! Have ye seen him pass by?

Languisheth ever the faithful dove, Seeking, seeking her fickle love. So, far more so, languish I-- Have ye seen him pass by?

Ulenspiegel gave Lamme a blow on his great belly, and told him to hold his breath.

"That," said Lamme, "is a very difficult thing, I fear, for a man of my corpulence."

But Ulenspiegel, paying no further attention to his companion, hid himself behind the canvas hood of the cart, and began to sing in the voice of a man with a bad cold that has drunk well:

In a shaky old cart with age all green, Your feckless sweetheart I have seen; And a glutton rides with him, like pig in sty-- I have seen him pass by.

"Tyl," said Lamme, "you have a wry tongue in your cheek this morning!"

But Tyl put his head out of a hole in the hood:

"Nele, don't you know me?" he said.

And Nele, for it was none other than she herself, was filled with fear, crying and laughing all at the same time, and her cheeks were wet as she answered him:

"I see you, and I know you, you wretch, you traitor!"

"Nele," said Ulenspiegel, "if you want to give me a beating, you will find a stick in the cart here. It is heavy enough in all conscience, and knotted so that it will leave its mark right enough."

"Tyl," said Nele, "are you seeking the Seven?"

"Even so," Tyl told her.

Now Nele carried with her a bag, or satchel, that was so full it seemed likely to burst. This satchel she offered to Tyl, saying:

"I thought it was unwholesome, Tyl, that a man should go on a journey without a good fat goose, and a ham, and some Ghent sausages. So take them, and when you eat of them think of me."

While Ulenspiegel stood gazing at Nele, quite oblivious of the satchel which she was holding out to him, Lamme poked out his head from another hole in the hood, and began to address the girl in his turn.

"O girl most wise," he said, "O girl most prudent, if he refuses such a gift it must be from pure absence of mind. But you had much better give into my own keeping that goose of yours, that ham, and those fine sausages. I will take care of them, I promise you!"

"And who," asked Nele of her lover, "who may this red-face be?"

"A victim of the married state," Tyl told her, "that is wasting away with sorrow, and would soon, in fact, shrink away to nothing, like an overbaked apple, were it not that he recuperated his strength from time to time and all the time by taking nourishment."

"Alas, my son," sighed Lamme, "what you say is only too true."

Now it was very hot, and Nele had covered her head with her apron because of the sun. Ulenspiegel looked upon her, and conceived a sudden desire to be alone with her. He turned to Lamme, and pointed to a woman that was walking some way off in a field.

"Do you see that woman?" he said.

"I see her," said Lamme.

"Do you recognize her?"

"Heavens!" cried Lamme, "can it be my wife? In truth she is dressed like no common country wench!"

"Can you still be doubtful, you old mole?"

"But supposing it were not her after all?" said Lamme.

"You would be none the worse off," Ulenspiegel told him, "for over there to the left, towards the north, I know a tavern that sells most excellent bruinbier. We will join you there, and here meanwhile is some salt ham that will provide an excellent relish to your thirst."

So Lamme got down from the cart, and made off as fast as his legs would carry him in the direction of the woman in the field.

Ulenspiegel said to Nele: "Why will you not come near me?"

Then he helped her to climb up beside him on to the cart, and made her sit close by his side. He removed her apron from her head and the cloak from her shoulders, and then when he had kissed her a hundred times at least, he asked her:

"Where were you going to, beloved?"

She answered him nothing, but seemed carried away in a sort of ecstasy. Ulenspiegel, in like rapture, said to her:

"Anyway you are here now! And truly the wild hedgerow is dun beside the sweet pink colouring of your skin, and though you are no queen, behold I will make a crown of kisses all for you! O sweet arms of my love, so tender, so rosy, and made for nothing but to hold me in their embrace! Ah, little girl, little love, how dare I touch you? These rough hands of mine, will they not tarnish the purity of your white shoulder? Yea verily, for the lightsome butterfly may flit to rest upon the crimson carnation, but I, clumsy bumpkin that I am, how can I rest myself without tarnishing the living whiteness that is you? God is in heaven, the king is on his throne, the sun rides triumphing in the sky, but am I a god, or a king, or the sun himself that I may come so close to you? O tresses softer than silk! O Nele, I fear to touch your hair, so clumsy am I, lest I tear it, lest I shred it all to pieces. But have no fear, my love. Your foot, your sweet foot! What makes it so white? Do you bathe it in milk?"

Nele would have risen from his side, but,

"What are you afraid of?" he asked her. "It is not the sun alone that shines upon us now and paints you all gold. Do not cast down your eyes, but look straight into mine, and behold the pure fire that flames there. And listen, my love, hearken to me, dearest. Now is midday, the silent hour. The labourer is at home, eating his dinner of soup. Shall we not also feed upon our love? Oh why, oh why have I not yet a thousand years wherein to tell at your knees my rosary of Indian pearls!"

"Golden Tongue!" she said.

But my Lord the Sun blazed down upon the white hood of the cart, and a lark sang high over the clover, and Nele leant her head upon the shoulder of Ulenspiegel.

III

After a while Lamme came back to the cart, great drops of sweat pouring off him, and he, puffing and blowing like a dolphin.

"Alas!" he cried, "I was born under an evil star. For no sooner had I run and caught up with this woman than I found that she was not a woman at all, but an old hag rather, as indeed I could see at once by her face--forty-five years old at the very least! And to judge by her head-gear she had never been married. For all that, she inquired of me in a harsh voice what I was doing there, carrying my great fat belly about in the clover! I told her as politely as I could that I was looking for my wife who had lately left me, and that I had run after her by mistake.

"At that the old girl told me that the only thing for me to do was to return at once whence I came, and that if my wife had left me she had indeed done well, seeing that all men are thieves and rascals, heretics, unfaithful, poisoners, and deceivers of women; and she threatened to set her dog on me if I did not make off at once. Which in truth I did incontinently, for that I perceived a great mastiff lying there growling at her feet. When, therefore, I had reached the boundary of the field, I sat me down to rest myself and to eat a bit of ham. And I was between two clover-fields. Suddenly I heard a great noise just behind me, and turning round I saw the old girl's mastiff, no longer now in menacing mood but wagging his tail as sweetly as possible and as much as to say that he was hungry and would like a piece of my ham. I was for throwing him some small bits when all at once his mistress appeared on the scene, and shouted out fiercely:

"'Seize the man! Seize him with your fangs, my son!'

"I started to run away, the great mastiff hanging on to me by my breeks. And now he had bitten off a piece of them, together with a gobbet of my own flesh. The pain made me angry and I turned and gave him such a smart stroke with my stick upon his front paws that I must have broken one of them at least. At that he fell down, crying out in his dog language: 'Mercy! Mercy!' the which I granted him. Meanwhile his mistress, finding no stones to throw at me, had begun to threaten me with pieces of earth and bits of grass. So I made good my retreat. And is it not a sorry thing, and a thing most unjust and most cruel, that because a girl has not been good-looking enough to find some one to marry her, she must needs go and take her revenge on a poor innocent like me?"

IV

Some while after these happenings, when Nele had returned to her home with Katheline, Lamme and Ulenspiegel came to Bruges. They were at the place called Minne-Water, the Lake of Love--though the learned folk would have it to be derived from Minre-Water, that is, the Water belonging to the order of monks who are called Minims. Be this as it may, here on the bank of the lake, Lamme and Ulenspiegel sat themselves down, watching those that passed in front of them under the trees. The green branches hung over the pathway like a vault of foliage, and below there sauntered both men and women, youths and maids, clasping each other's hands, with flowers on their heads, walking so close together and gazing so tenderly into each other's eyes that they seemed to see nothing else in all the world save themselves alone.

As he watched them, the thoughts of Ulenspiegel were far away with Nele, and his thoughts were sad thoughts. Yet his words were of another colour, bidding Lamme come off with him to the tavern for a drink. But Lamme paid no attention to what Tyl was saying, for he himself was absorbed no less by the sight of those loving pairs.

"In the old days," he said, "we too, my wife and I, were wont to go a-courting, while others, just as we are now, would watch us, alone and companionless by the lake-side."

"Come and have a drink!" said Ulenspiegel, "Belike we will find the Seven at the bottom of a pint of beer."

"That's but a drunkard's notion," answered Lamme, "for you know quite well that the Seven are giants, and taller than the roof of the Church of St. Sauver itself!"

The thoughts of Ulenspiegel were still with Nele, but none the less did he hope to find, perchance, good quarters in some inn, a good supper, and a comely hostess into the bargain. Again, therefore, did he urge his companion to come along with him and drink. But Lamme would not listen to him, gazing sadly at the tower of Notre Dame, and addressing himself in prayer to Our Lady somewhat in this wise:

"O Blessed Lady, patroness of all lawful unions, suffer me, I pray, to see yet once again the white neck, the soft and tender neck, of my love!"

"Come and drink!" cried Ulenspiegel. "Belike you will find her displaying these charms of hers to the drinkers in the tavern."

"How dare you harbour such a thought!" cried Lamme.

"Come and drink!" repeated Ulenspiegel. "Your wife has turned innkeeper without a doubt."

And thus conversing, they repaired to the Marché du Samedi, and entered into the Blauwe Lanteern--at the sign of the Blue Lantern. And there they found a right jolly-looking innkeeper.

The donkey meanwhile was unharnessed from the cart, and was put up in the stables and provided with a good feed of oats. Our travellers themselves ordered supper, and when they had eaten their fill, they went to bed and slept soundly till morning, only to wake up and eat again. And Lamme, who was wellnigh bursting with all that he had eaten, said that he could hear in his stomach a sound like the music of the spheres.

Now when the time came to pay the bill, mine host came to Lamme and told him that the total amounted to six patards.

"He has the money," said Lamme, pointing to Ulenspiegel.

"No such thing," said Ulenspiegel.

"What about that half-florin?" said Lamme.

"I haven't got it," said Ulenspiegel.

"Here's a nice way of going on!" cried the innkeeper. "I shall strip your doublet and shirt from the two of you!"

Suddenly Lamme took courage of all he had been drinking:

"And if I choose to eat and to drink," he cried, "yea, to eat and to drink the worth of twenty-seven florins, and more, do you think I shall not do so? Do you think that this belly of mine is not the equal of a penny? God's life! Up to now I have fed on ortolans. But you, never have you carried anything of that sort under your belt of greasy hide. For you, you bad man, must needs carry your suet in the collar of your doublet, far otherwise than I that bear three inches at least of delicate fat on this good belly of mine."

At this the innkeeper fell into a passion of rage, and though he was a stammerer he began to talk at a great rate, and the greater his haste the more he stammered and spluttered like a dog that has just come out of the water. Ulenspiegel began to throw pellets of bread at him, and Lamme, growing more and more excited, continued his harangue in the following strain:

"And now, what do you say? For here have I enough, and more than enough, to pay you for those three lean chickens forsooth, and those four mangy poulets, to say nothing of that big simpleton of a peacock that parades his paltry tail in the stable yard. And if your very skin was not more dry than that of an ancient cock, if your bones even now were not falling to very dust within your breast, still should I have the wherewithal to eat you up, you and your slobbering servant there--your one-eyed serving-maid and your cook, whose arms are not long enough to scratch himself though he had the itch! And do you see," he continued, "do you see this fine bird of yours that for the sake of half a florin would have deprived us of our doublet and our shirt? Say, what is your own wardrobe worth, preposterous chatterbox that you are; and I will give you three liards in exchange for the lot!"

But the innkeeper, who by this time was beside himself with rage, stammered and spluttered more and more, while Ulenspiegel went on throwing pellets of bread in his face, till Lamme at last cried out again in a voice brave as a lion's:

"What's the value, think you, skinny-face, of a fine donkey with a splendid nose, long ears, large chest, and legs as strong as iron? Twenty-eight florins at the least, is it not so, most seedy of innkeepers? And how many old nails have you, pray, locked fast away in your coffer, with which to pay the price of so fine an animal?"

More than ever did the innkeeper puff and blow, yet dared not budge an inch from where he stood. And Lamme said again:

"And what is the value, think you, of a fine cart of ash-wood, finely painted in crimson, and furnished with a hood of Courtrai cloth for protection from sun and rain? Twenty-four florins at the least, is it not so? And how much is twenty-four florins added to twenty-eight florins? Answer that, you miser that cannot even count! And now, since it is market day, and since your paltry tavern happens to be full of peasants that are come to market, behold I will put up my cart to auction and my donkey too, and I will sell them here, now, and at once!"

Which, in very truth, he did. For all they that were there knew very well who Lamme was. And he actually realized from the sale of his donkey and cart as much as forty-four florins and ten patards. And he jingled the money under the innkeeper's nose, and said to him:

"Scent you not the savour of festivities to be?"

"Yea," answered mine host. But under his breath he swore that if ever Lamme came to him and offered to sell him his very skin, he would buy it for a liard and make of it an amulet for a charm against extravagance.

Meanwhile there was a sweet and gentle-looking young woman that stood in the yard without, and she came up oftentimes to the window and looked at Lamme, but withdrew her pretty face each time that he might have seen her. And the same evening, when Lamme was going up to bed, stumbling about on the staircase without any light (for he had been drinking not wisely), he was aware of a woman that put her arms round him, and greedily kissed his cheek and mouth and his nose even, and moistened his face with amorous tears, and then left him.

But Lamme, who was thoroughly drowsed by all that he had been drinking, lay down straightway and went to sleep; and on the morrow he departed to Ghent together with Ulenspiegel. There he went seeking his wife in all the cabarets and taverns of the town. But at nightfall he rejoined Ulenspiegel at the sign of the Singing Swan.

V

Now King Philip was obstinate as a mule, and he thought that his own will ought to dominate the entire world as if it had been the will of God himself. And his will was this: that our country, little accustomed as it was to obedience, should now curb itself under an ancient yoke without obtaining any reforms at all. And the be-all and the end-all of his desire was the aggrandizement of that Holy Mother of his, the Catholic Church, Apostolic and Roman, One, Entire, Universal, changeless and unalterable, and this was his will for no other reason at all than just the fact that it was his will. And in this he was like some woman without sense, that tosses about all night upon her bed as though it were a bed of thorns, endlessly tortured by her own imaginings.

"Yes," he would say, "O most Holy Saint Philip, and you, O my Lord God, if only I could turn the Low Countries into a common grave, and cast therein all the inhabitants of that country, then surely they would return to Thee, my most blessed Patron, and to Thee, my Lady Virgin Mary, and to ye, my good masters, the saints and saintesses of Paradise!"

And he really tried to do as he said; so that he was more Roman than the Pope and more Catholic than the Councils!

And the people of Flanders and of the Low Countries began to grow anxious again, and to think that they could discern in the distance this crowned spider, working in the sombre house of the Escurial, reaching out his long claws with their nippers open, and spreading wide the web in which he might enwrap them all and suck them white of their blood.

Ulenspiegel, for his part, went spreading the alarm wherever he could, and stirring up the people against the ravishers of his country and the murderers of his parents.

One day, therefore, when he was in the Marché du Vendredi, near by the Dulle-Griet--the Great Canon--Ulenspiegel lay flat down on his stomach in the middle of the road. A charcoal-burner who happened to be passing came up and asked him what he was doing there.

"I am giving my nose a wetting," Ulenspiegel told him, "so that I may discover where this great wind is coming from."

Next a carpenter came along.

"Do you take the pavement for a mattress?" he asked.

"Before long," said Ulenspiegel, "there are some that will be taking it for a counterpane."

A monk came up and stopped by his side.

"What does this booby here?"

"He entreats your blessing, lying flat at your feet," said Ulenspiegel. The monk gave his blessing and went away. But Ulenspiegel continued where he was with his head pressed to the earth, till at last a peasant came along and asked him what he was listening for. "Do you hear some noise or other?" he said.

"Yes," replied Ulenspiegel. "I hear the wood beginning to grow, that wood whence many a faggot shall be made for the burning of poor heretics."

"Do you hear aught else?" inquired a sergeant of the commune.

"Yes," said Ulenspiegel, "I hear the men-at-arms that are on their way from Spain. If you have anything you wish to save, bury it now, for in a little while our cities will not be safe from thieves any more."

"The man is mad," said the sergeant.

And the people of the town thought so too.

VI