Suddenly a man fell and said:
“I am cold and I am hungry, and I go before God to bear witness that the Pope is Antichrist on earth.”
And he died. And the others were fain to bear him away with them, in order to give him a Christian burial.
While they were journeying along a main road they perceived a countryman driving a wagon covered with its canvas tilt. Seeing the naked men, he took pity and made them get into the wagon. There they found hay to lie on and empty sacks to cover themselves with. Being warm, they gave thanks to God. Ulenspiegel, riding by the side of the wagon on one of the reiters’ horses, held the other by the bridle.
At Mézières they alighted: there they were given good soup, beer, bread, cheese, and meat, the old men and the women. They were lodged, clad, and weaponed afresh at the charge of the commune. And they all gave the embrace of blessing to Ulenspiegel, who received it rejoicing.
He sold the horses of the two reiters for forty-eight florins, of which he gave thirty to the Frenchmen.
Going on his way alone, he said to himself: “I go through ruins, blood, and tears, without finding aught. The devils lied to me, past a doubt. Where is Lamme? Where is Nele? Where are the Seven?”
And he heard a voice like a low breath, saying:
“In death, ruin, and tears, seek.”
And he went his way.
XVII
Ulenspiegel came to Namur in March. There he saw Lamme, who having been seized with a great love for the fish of the River Meuse, and especially for the trout, had hired a boat and was fishing in the river by leave of the commune. But he had paid fifty florins to the guild of the fishmongers.
He sold and ate his fish, and in this trade he gained a better paunch and a little bag of carolus.
Seeing his friend and comrade going along the banks of the Meuse to come into the town, he was filled with joy, thrust his boat up against the bank, and climbing up the steep, not without puffing, he came to Ulenspiegel. Stammering with pleasure:
“There you are then, my son,” said he, “my son in God, for my belly-ark could carry two like you. Whither go you? What would you? You are not dead, without a doubt? Have you seen my wife? You shall eat Meuse fish, the best that is in this world below; they make sauces in this country fit to make you eat your fingers up to the shoulder. You are proud and splendid, with the bronze of battle on your cheeks. There you are then, my son, my friend Ulenspiegel, the jolly vagabond.”
Then in a low voice:
“How many Spaniards have you killed? You never saw my wife in their wagons full of wenches? And the Meuse wine, so delicious for constipated folk, you shall drink of it. Are you wounded, my son? You will stay here then, fresh, lively, keen as an eagle. And the eels, you shall taste lad. No marshy flavour whatever. Kiss me, my fat lad. My blessing upon God, how glad I am!”
And Lamme danced, leapt, puffed, and forced Ulenspiegel to dance as well.
Then they wended their way towards Namur. At the gate of the city Ulenspiegel showed his pass signed by the duke. And Lamme brought him to his house.
While he was making their meal ready, he made Ulenspiegel tell his adventures and recounted his own, having, he said, abandoned the army to follow after a girl that he thought was his wife. In this pursuit he had come as far as Namur. And he kept repeating:
“Have you not seen her at all?”
“I saw others that were very beautiful,” replied Ulenspiegel, “and especially in this town, where all are amorous.”
“In truth,” said Lamme, “a hundred times they would fain have had me, but I remained faithful, for my sad heart is big with a single memory.”
“As your belly is big with innumerable dishes,” answered Ulenspiegel.
Lamme replied:
“When I am in distress I must eat.”
“Is your grief without respite?” asked Ulenspiegel.
“Alas, yes!” said Lamme.
And pulling a trout from out a saucepan:
“See,” said he, “how lovely and firm it is. This flesh is pink as my wife’s. To-morrow we shall leave Namur; I have a pouch full of florins; we shall buy an ass apiece, and we shall depart riding thus towards the land of Flanders.”
“You will lose heavily by it,” said Ulenspiegel.
“My heart draws me to Damme, which was the place where she loved me well: perchance she has returned thither.”
“We shall start to-morrow,” said Ulenspiegel, “since you wish it so.”
And as a matter of fact, they set out, each mounted on an ass and straddling along side by side.
XVIII
A sharp wind was blowing. The sun, bright as youth in the morning, was veiled and gray as an old man. A rain mixed with hail was falling.
The rain having ceased, Ulenspiegel shook himself, saying:
“The sky that drinks up so much mist must relieve itself sometimes.”
Another rain, still more mingled with hail than the former, beat down on the two companions. Lamme groaned:
“We were well washed, now we must needs be rinsed!”
The sun reappeared, and they rode on gaily.
A third rain fell, so full of hail and so deadly that like knives it chopped the dry twigs on the trees to mincemeat.
Lamme said:
“Ho! a roof! My poor wife! Where are ye, good fire, soft kisses, and fat soups?”
And he wept, the great fellow.
But Ulenspiegel:
“We bemoan ourselves,” said he, “is it not from ourselves none the less that our woes come on us? It is raining on our backs, but this December rain will make the clover of May. And the kine will low for pleasure. We are without a shelter, but why did we never marry? I mean myself, with little Nele, so pretty and so kind, who would now give me a good stew of beef and beans to eat. We are thirsty in spite of the water that is falling; why did we not make ourselves workmen steady in one condition? Those who are received as masters in their trade have in their cellars full casks of bruinbier.”
The ashes of Claes beat upon his heart, the sky became clear, the sun shone out in it, and Ulenspiegel said:
“Master Sun, thanks be unto you, you warm our loins again; ashes of Claes, ye warm our heart once more, and tell us that blessed are they that are wanderers for the sake of the deliverance of the land of our fathers.”
“I am hungry,” said Lamme.
XIX
They came into an inn, where they were served with supper in an upper chamber. Ulenspiegel, opening the windows, saw from thence a garden in which a comely girl was walking, plump, round bosomed, with golden hair, and clad only in a petticoat, a jacket of white linen, and an apron of black stuff, full of holes.
Chemises and other woman’s linen was bleaching on cords: the girl, still turned towards Ulenspiegel, was taking chemises down from the lines, and putting them back and smiling and still looking at him, and sat down on linen bands, swinging on the two ends knotted together.
Near by Ulenspiegel heard a cock crowing and saw a nurse playing with a child whose face she turned towards a man that was standing, saying:
“Boelkin, look nicely at papa!”
The child wept.
And the pretty girl continued to walk about in the garden, displacing and replacing the linen.
“She is a spy,” said Lamme.
The girl put her hands