Chapter VII: Book I: I (7)

On the morrow came the constables and criers of the commune to Claes's house to set all its plenishing in the street and proceed to the sale by law appointed. Soetkin from Katheline's saw them bring down the brass and iron cradle which from father to son had always been in the house of Claes where the poor dead man had been born, where Ulenspiegel also had been born. Then they brought down the bed where Soetkin had conceived her son and where she had spent such good nights on her husband's shoulder. Then came, too, the cupboard where she put away her bread, the press in which, in good times, meats were kept, pans, kettles, and cooking pots no longer shining and scoured as in the good days of happiness, but sullied with the dust of neglect. And they recalled to her the family feasts when the neighbours used to come drawn to the good savours.

Then came, too, a cask and a little cask of simpel and dobbel-cuyt, and, in a basket, flasks of wine, of which there were at least thirty; and all was set down upon the street, down to the last nail the poor widow heard them dragging noisily out of the walls.

Sitting, she looked on without uttering cry or complaint, and all heartbroken, beholding these humble riches carried off. The crier having lighted a candle, the things were sold by auction. The candle was near its end when the dean of the fishmongers had bought all for a miserable price to sell again; and he seemed to be as pleased as a weasel sucking the brain of a hen.

Ulenspiegel said in his heart: "Thou shalt not laugh long, murderer."

The sale ended, meanwhile, and the constables who were searching everywhere did not find the carolus. The fishmonger exclaimed:

"Ye search ill: I know that Claes had seven hundred six months ago."

Ulenspiegel said in his heart: "Thou shalt not be the heir to them, murderer."

Suddenly Soetkin turning towards him:

"The informer!" said she, showing him the fishmonger.

"I know that," said he.

"Would you suffer him," said she, "to inherit from the father's blood?"

"Rather would I endure a whole day on the torture bench," replied Ulenspiegel.

Quoth Soetkin:

"I, too, but do not give me away for pity, whatever torment you may see me enduring."

"Alas! you are a woman," said Ulenspiegel.

"Poor lad," said she, "I brought you into the world, and know how to suffer. But you, if I saw you...." Then growing pale: "I will pray Madame the Virgin, who saw her son upon the cross."

And she wept, caressing Ulenspiegel.

And thus was made between them a pact of hate and force.

LXXVII

The fishmonger need pay only one half of the price of his purchase, the other half serving to pay him the reward of his informing, until they should have recovered the seven hundred carolus that had impelled him to his villainy.

Soetkin spent the nights in weeping and the day in the tasks of housekeeping. Often Ulenspiegel heard her talking all alone and saying:

"If he inherits, I shall kill myself."

Knowing that she would indeed do as she said, Nele and he did all they could to get Soetkin to retire to Walcheren, where she had kinsfolk. Soetkin would by no means do this, saying she had no need to run away from the worms that would soon eat her widowed bones.

In the meanwhile, the fishmonger had gone afresh to the bailiff and had told him that the defunct had inherited seven hundred carolus but a few months before, that he was a niggardly man and living on little, and therefore had not spent all that large amount, which was doubtless hidden away in some corner.

The bailiff asked him what harm had Ulenspiegel and Soetkin done him that having robbed one of a father and the other of her husband, he still racked his wits to harass them cruelly.

The fishmonger replied that being a leading burgess of Damme, he desired to have the laws of the empire respected and thus to deserve His Majesty's clemency.

Having said so much, he deposited in the bailiff's hands a written charge, and brought forward witnesses who, speaking in all truth and sincerity, must certify reluctantly that the fishmonger was no liar.

The members of the Chamber of Aldermen, having heard the testimony of the witnesses, declared the indications of guilt sufficient to warrant the application of torture. They sent, therefore, to have the house thoroughly searched once again by sergeants who had full powers to fetch the mother and the son to the town gaol, where they were detained until the executioner should come from Bruges, whither they sent to summon him immediately.

When Ulenspiegel and Soetkin passed along the street, their hands tied behind them, the fishmonger was posted on the threshold of his house, to look at them.

And the citizens of Damme, men and women, were on the thresholds of their houses also. Mathyssen, a near neighbour of the fishmonger, heard Ulenspiegel say to the informer:

"God will curse thee, tormentor of widows!"

And Soetkin saying to him:

"Thou wilt come to an ill end, persecutor of orphans!"

The folk of Damme having thus learned that it was upon a second denunciation by Grypstuiver that the widow and the orphan were thus being haled off to prison, hooted the fishmonger, and that night flung stones through his windows. And his door was covered with filth.

And he no longer dared to leave his own house.

LXXVIII

Towards ten o'clock in the forenoon Ulenspiegel and Soetkin were brought into the torture chamber.

There were the bailiff, the clerk and the sheriffs, the executioner from Bruges, his assistant and a barber surgeon.

The bailiff asked Soetkin if she was not holding back goods that belonged to the Emperor. She replied that having nothing, she could hold back nothing.

"And thou?" asked the bailiff, speaking to Ulenspiegel.

"Seven months since," said he, "we inherited seven hundred carolus; some of these we ate. As for the others, I cannot tell where they are; I think indeed that the traveller on foot that stayed in our house, for our undoing, took the rest away, for I have seen nothing since then."

The bailiff asked again if both persisted in declaring themselves innocent.

They answered that they were holding back nothing that belonged to the Emperor.

The bailiff then said gravely and sadly:

"The charges against you being serious and the accusation well sustained, you must needs, if you do not confess, undergo the question."

"Spare the widow," said Ulenspiegel. "The fishmonger has bought up everything."

"Poor lad," said Soetkin, "men cannot endure pain as women can."

Seeing Ulenspiegel pale as the dead because of her, she said again:

"I have hate and force."

"Spare the widow," said Ulenspiegel.

"Take me in his stead," said Soetkin.

The bailiff asked the executioner if he had in readiness the implements and all things needful to discover the truth.

The executioner replied:

"They are all here."

The judges, having consulted, decided that, in order to come at the truth, they should begin with the woman.

"For," said one of the sheriffs, "there is no son so cruel or hard hearted as to see his mother suffer without making confession of the crime and so to deliver her; the same will do any mother, were she a tigress at heart, for her offspring."

Speaking to the executioner, the bailiff said:

"Make the woman sit in the chair and put the baguettes on her hands and her feet."

The executioner obeyed.

"Oh, do not do that, Messieurs Judges!" cried Ulenspiegel. "Bind me in her place, break my fingers and my toes, but spare the widow."

"The fishmonger," said Soetkin. "I have hate and force."

Ulenspiegel seemed livid pale, trembling, beside himself, and held his peace.

The baguettes were little rods of boxwood, placed between each finger and toe, touching the bone, and joined together with strings by an instrument so craftily designed that the executioner could, at the behest of the judge, squeeze all the fingers together, strip the bones of their flesh, grind them terribly, or give the victim only a slight pain.

He put the baguettes on Soetkin's hands and feet.

"Tighten," said the bailiff.

He did so cruelly.

Then the bailiff, addressing himself to Soetkin:

"Discover to me," said he, "the place where the carolus are hidden."

"I do not know it," she replied, groaning.

"Harder," said he.

Ulenspiegel twisted his arms that were bound behind his back to be rid of the rope and so come to Soetkin's aid.

"Do not tighten them, messieurs judges," said he, "do not tighten them, these be but woman's bones, thin and brittle. A bird could break them with its beak. Do not tighten them, sirs--master executioner, I do not speak to you, for you must needs be obedient to these gentlemen's orders. O do not bid him tighten them; have pity!"

"The fishmonger," said Soetkin.

And Ulenspiegel held his peace.

However, seeing that the executioner was locking the baguettes tighter still, he cried out again:

"Pity, sirs!" he said. "Ye are breaking the widow's fingers that she needeth to work withal. Alas! her feet! Will she never walk again now? Pity, sirs!"

"Thou shalt come to an ill end, fishmonger," cried Soetkin.

And the bones crackled and the blood from her feet fell in little drops.

Ulenspiegel looked at all this, and trembling with anguish and with rage, he said:

"A woman's bones, do not break them, sirs!"

"The fishmonger," groaned Soetkin.

And her voice was low and stifled like the voice of a ghost.

Ulenspiegel trembled and cried out:

"Master judges, her hands are bleeding and her feet, too. The widow's bones are broken, broken!"

The barber surgeon touched them with his finger, and Soetkin uttered a loud scream.

"Confess for her," said the bailiff to Ulenspiegel.

But Soetkin looked at him with eyes like the eyes of the dead, wide open and staring. And he knew he could not speak, and he wept and said nothing.

But the bailiff said next:

"Since this woman is gifted with a man's fortitude, we must try her courage before the torments of her son."

Soetkin heard nothing, for she had lost her senses by reason of the great agony she had suffered.

They brought her back to consciousness with much vinegar. Then Ulenspiegel was stripped naked before the widow's eyes. The executioner shaved his head and his whole body, so as to spy that he had no wicked spell on him. Then he perceived on his back the little black mark he carried from his birth. He thrust a long needle into it several times; but as the blood came, he decided that there was no sorcery in the mark. At the bailiff's order, the hands of Ulenspiegel were tied with two cords running over a pulley fixed to the roof so that the executioner at the judges' pleasure could hoist him up and let him drop with a brutal jerk; which he did nine times, having first hung a weight of twenty-five pounds on each foot.

At the ninth time, the skin of his wrists and ankles tore, and the bones of his legs began to come out of their sockets.

"Confess," said the bailiff.

"No," replied Ulenspiegel.

Soetkin looked at her son and could find no strength either to cry out or to speak; only she stretched forth her arms, fluttering her bleeding hands and showing thus that they must make an end of this torment.

The executioner ran Ulenspiegel up and down yet again. And the skin of his wrists and ankles was torn still more; and the bones of his legs came out of their sockets further still; but he uttered no cry.

Soetkin wept and fluttered her bleeding hands.

"Confess the concealment," said the bailiff, "and you shall have pardon for it."

"The fishmonger hath need of pardon," answered Ulenspiegel.

"Wilt thou mock thy judges?" said one of the sheriffs.

"Mock? Alas!" replied Ulenspiegel, "I but feign to mock, believe me."

Soetkin then saw the executioner, who, at the bailiff's order, was blowing up a brazier of red coals, and an assistant who was lighting two candles. She would fain have risen up on her murdered feet, but fell back to a sitting posture, and exclaiming:

"Take away that fire!" she cried. "Ah! master judges, spare his poor youth. Take away the fire!"

"The fishmonger!" cried Ulenspiegel, seeing her weakening.

"Raise Ulenspiegel a foot above the ground," said the bailiff; "set the brazier underneath his feet and a candle under either armpit."

The executioner obeyed. What hair was left in his armpits crackled and smoked in the flame.

Ulenspiegel cried out, and Soetkin, weeping, said:

"Take the fire away!"

The bailiff said:

"Confess the concealment and thou shalt be set at liberty. Confess for him, woman."

And Ulenspiegel said: "Who will throw the fishmonger into the fire that burneth for ever?"

Soetkin made sign with her head that she had nothing to say. Ulenspiegel ground and gnashed his teeth, and Soetkin looked at him with haggard eyes and all in tears.

Nevertheless, when the executioner, having blown out the candles, set the burning brazier under Ulenspiegel's feet, she cried:

"Master judges, have pity upon him: he knows not what he saith."

"Why doth he not know what he saith?" asked the bailiff, craftily.

"Do not question her, master judges; ye see full well that she is out of her wits with torment. The fishmonger lied," said Ulenspiegel.

"Wilt thou say the same as he, woman?" asked the bailiff.

Soetkin made sign with her head to say yes.

"Burn the fishmonger!" cried Ulenspiegel.

Soetkin held her peace, raising her clenched fist into the air as though to curse.

Yet seeing the brazier burn up more fiercely under her son's feet, she cried:

"O Lord God! Madame Mary that art in heaven, put an end to this torment! Have pity! Take the brazier away!"

"The fishmonger!" groaned Ulenspiegel again.

And he vomited blood in great gushes through nose and mouth, and letting his head fall, hung suspended above the coals.

Then Soetkin cried:

"He is dead, my poor orphan! They have killed him! Ah! him, too. Take away this brazier, master judges! Let me take him into my arms to die also, I, too, to die with him. Ye know I cannot flee on my broken feet."

"Give the widow her son," said the bailiff.

Then the judges deliberated together.

The executioner unbound Ulenspiegel, and laid him all naked and covered with blood upon Soetkin's knees, while the barber surgeon put back his bones in their sockets.

All the while Soetkin embraced Ulenspiegel, and said, weeping:

"Son, poor martyr! If the judges will, I shall heal thee, I; but awaken, Thyl, my son! Master judges, if ye have killed him on me, I shall go to His Majesty; for ye have done contrary to all laws and justice, and ye shall see what one poor woman can do against wicked men. But, sirs, leave us free together. We have nothing but our two selves in the world, poor wretches on whom the hand of God has been heavy."

Having deliberated, the judges gave out the following sentence:

"Inasmuch as you, Soetkin, lawful widow of Claes, and you, Thyl, son of Claes, and called Ulenspiegel, having been accused of fraudulently withholding the goods that by confiscation were the property of His Majesty the King, maugre all privileges contrary to this, despite severe torture and adequate ordeal, have confessed to nothing:

"The court, considering the absence of sufficient proofs, and in you, woman, the piteous condition of your members, and in you, man, the harsh torment you have undergone, declares you both at liberty, and accords you permission to take up your abode in the house of him or her who may please to give you lodging, in spite of your poverty.

"Thus decreed at Damme, the three and twentieth day of October in the year of Our Lord 1558."

"Thanks be to you, master judges," said Soetkin.

"The fishmonger!" groaned Ulenspiegel.

And mother and son were taken to the house of Katheline in a cart.

LXXIX

In this year, which was the fifty-eighth of the century, Katheline went into Soetkin's house, and said:

"Last night, having anointed myself with a balsam, I was carried to the tower of Notre Dame, and I beheld the spirits of the element passing on to the angels the prayers of men who flying towards the farthest heavens, bore them to the throne. And the sky was all over sprinkled with radiant stars. Suddenly there rose up from a fire pile a shape that seemed all black and climbed up to set himself beside me on the tower. I recognized Claes as he was in life, clad in his coalman's attire. 'What dost thou,' said he, 'on the tower of Notre Dame?' 'But thyself,' I replied, 'whither goest thou, flying through the air like a bird?' 'I go,' he said, 'to the judgment, dost thou not hear the angel's trump?' I was quite close to him, and felt that his spiritual body was not solid like the bodies of living men; but so tenuous that moving forward against him, I entered into it as into a hot vapour. At my feet, in all the land of Flanders, there shone a few lights, and I said to myself: 'Those who rise early and work late are the blessed of God.'

"And all the while I heard the angel's trumpet sounding through the night. And I saw then another shade that mounted, coming out of Spain; this one was old and decrepit, had a chin like a slipper and preserve of quince on its lips. It wore on its back a cloak of crimson velvet lined with ermine, on its head a crown imperial, in one hand an anchovy which it was munching, in the other a tankard full of beer.

"It came, doubtless for weariness, and sate down on the tower of Notre Dame. Kneeling down, I said to it: 'Crowned Majesty, I revere you, but I know you not. Whence come you and what do you in the world?' 'I come,' it said, 'from Saint Just in Estramadura, and I was the Emperor Charles the Fifth.' 'But,' said I, 'whither go you as now on this cold night, through these clouds laden with hail?' 'I go,' it said, 'to the judgment.' Just as the Emperor was fain to finish his anchovy and to drink his beer from his tankard, the angel's trumpet sounded, and he flew up into the air growling and grumbling at being thus interrupted in his meal. I followed His Sacred Majesty. He went through space, hiccoughing with fatigue, wheezing with asthma, and sometimes vomiting, for death had come on him during a spell of indigestion. We mounted continually, like arrows sped from a bow of cornelwood. The stars glided beside us, tracing lines of fire in the sky; we saw them break loose and fall. And still the trumpet of the angel kept a-sounding. What a mighty and sonorous blare! At every flourish, as it beat against the mists of the air, they opened up as though some hurricane blast had blown upon them from near at hand. And so was our path marked out for us. Having been borne away for a thousand leagues and more, we beheld Christ in his glory, seated on a throne of stars, and on his right hand was the angel that inscribes the deeds of men upon a brazen register, and on his left hand Mary his mother, entreating him without ceasing for sinners.

"Claes and the Emperor Charles knelt down before the throne.

"The angel cast the crown from off Charles's head: 'There is but one emperor here,' said he, 'that is Christ.'

"His Sacred Majesty seemed angry; nevertheless, speaking humbly: 'Might I not,' said he, 'keep this anchovy and this tankard of beer, for this long journey made me hungry.'

"'As thou wast all thy life long,' rejoined the angel; 'but eat and drink none the less.'

"The Emperor drained the tankard of beer and munched at the anchovy.

"Then Christ spake and said:

"'Dost thou offer a cleansed soul for judgment?'

"'I hope as much, my sweet Lord, for I confessed myself,' replied the Emperor Charles.

"'And thou, Claes?' said Christ, 'thou dost not tremble as doth this emperor.'

"'My Lord Jesus,' answered Claes, 'there is no soul that is clean; I am not, therefore, afraid of Thee who art the supreme good and the supreme justice, but withal I fear for my sins that were many.'

"'Speak, carrion,' said the angel, addressing the Emperor.

"'I, Lord,' replied Charles in an embarrassed voice, 'being anointed by the finger of Thy priests, I was consecrated King of Castile, Emperor of Germany, and King of the Romans. I had ever at heart the preservation of the power that cometh from Thee, and to that end I wrought by the rope, by the steel, by the pit, and by the fire against all them of the reform."

"But the angel:

"'Belly-aching liar,' said he, 'thou wouldst fain deceive us. Thou didst tolerate the reformers in Germany, because thou wast afeard of them, and had them beheaded, burned, hanged, and buried alive in the Low Countries, where thou hadst no fear save not to inherit enough from these toiling bees so rich in plenteous honey. A hundred thousand souls perished by thy doing, not because thou didst love Christ, monseigneur, but because thou wast a despot, tyrant, devourer of countries, loving but thyself, and after thyself, meats, fishes, wines, and beers, for thou wast as great a glutton as any dog, and thirsty as a sponge.'

"'And thou, Claes, speak,' said Christ.

"But the angel, standing up:

"'This one hath naught to say. He was good, hard-working like the poor Flanders folk, willing to toil and willing to laugh, keeping the faith he owed his princes and believing that his princes would keep the faith they owed to him. He had money, he was accused, and as he had harboured one of the reformed, he was burned alive.'

"'Ah,' said Mary, 'poor martyr, but there are in heaven cool springs, fountains of milk, and choice wine that will refresh thee, and I will myself lead thee to them, coalman!'

"The trumpet of the angel sounded again, and I saw arising from the depths of the abyss a man naked and beautiful, with a crown of iron. And on the round of the crown were inscribed these words: 'Dark until the day of doom!'

"He drew near to the throne and said to Christ:

"'I am thy slave until I am thy master.'

"'Satan,' said Mary, 'a day shall come when there will be no more slaves or masters, and when Christ who is love, Satan who is pride, will signify: Might and Knowledge.'

"'Woman,' said Satan, 'thou art fair and kind.'

"Then speaking to Christ, and pointing to the Emperor:

"'What is to be done with this one?' said he.

"Christ replied:

"'Thou shalt put the crowned worm in a chamber where thou shalt collect all the implements of torment used during his reign. Each time a wretched, innocent man endureth the torment of the water, which bloweth men up like bladders; of the candles, that burneth the soles of the feet and the armpits; the strappado, which breaketh the limbs; the riving asunder by four galleys; every time a free soul gives up its last breath on the fire, he must undergo all these deaths in turn, all these tortures, that he may learn what evil may be wrought by an unjust man that hath at command millions of his fellow men: let him rot in gaols, die upon scaffolds, groan in exile far from his own country; let him be dishonoured, shamefully entreated, scourged; let him be rich and harried by the treasury; let informers bring accusations against him, and confiscations ruin him. Thou shalt make of him an ass, that he may be meek, ill treated, and ill fed; a poor man, that he may ask for alms and be greeted with insults; a worker that he may toil too much and eat too little; then when he shall have suffered sorely in his man's body and soul, thou shalt turn him into a dog, that he may be friendly, and be beaten; a slave in the Indies, that he may be sold by auction; a soldier, that he may fight for another man and be slain without knowing wherefore. And when, at the end of three hundred years, he will thus have gone through every form of suffering, every distress, thou shalt make a free man of him, and if in this condition he is good as was Claes, thou shalt give his body eternal repose, in a spot shaded at noon, visited by the sun in the morning, under a goodly tree, and covered by a cool verdant sward. And his friends will come to shed their tears of grief upon his tomb, and sow violets, the blossoms of remembrance.'

"'Pardon, my son,' said Mary, 'he knew not what he did, for power hardeneth the heart.'

"'There is no pardon,' said Christ.

"'Ah!' said His Sacred Majesty, 'if only I had a glass of Andalusian wine!'

"'Come,' said Satan, 'past is the time of wine, of meats and fowls.'

"And he bore away to the uttermost deeps of hell the soul of the poor emperor, still munching his fragment of anchovy.

"Satan for pity left it to him. Then I saw Madame the Virgin leading Claes to the highest height of heaven, there where was naught but stars hanging like clusters of grapes to the vaulted roof. And there angels laved him and he became handsome and young. Then they gave him rystpap to eat, in silver spoons. And heaven closed again."

"He is in glory," said the widow.

"The ashes beat against my heart," said Ulenspiegel.

LXXX

During the next three and twenty days Katheline grew white, and thin, drying up as though she were devoured by a fire within more consuming than the fire of madness.

She said no longer: "The fire! Make a hole: the soul would fain escape," but ever in ecstasy and delight she would say to Nele: "Spouse am I: spouse thou art to be. Handsome; long hair; hot love; knees cold and cold arms!"

And Soetkin looked on her grieving, for she thought this some new madness.

Katheline continued:

"Thrice three make nine, the sacred number. He that in the night hath eyes shining as a cat's alone seeth the mystery."

One night Soetkin, hearing her, made a movement of doubting.

But Katheline:

"Four and three," said she, "misfortune under Saturn; under Venus, the marriage number. Cold arms! Cold knees! Heart of fire!"

Soetkin made answer:

"It is not well to speak of wicked heathen idols."

Hearing which Katheline made the sign of the cross and said:

"Blessed be the gray horseman. Nele must have a husband, a handsome husband carrying a sword, a black husband with a shining face."

"Aye," said Ulenspiegel, "a fricassee of husbands for which I shall make the sauce with my knife."

Nele looked at her friend with eyes all moist for the pleasure of seeing him so jealous.

"I want no husband," said she.

Katheline replied:

"When he that is clad in gray shall come, ever booted and spurred in another fashion."

Soetkin said:

"Pray to God for the poor madwife."

"Ulenspiegel," said Katheline, "go fetch us four quarts of dobbel-cuyt whilst I go to prepare the heete-koeken"; which are pancakes in the land of France.

Soetkin asked why she made feast on Saturday like the Jews.

Katheline answered:

"Because the dough is ready."

Ulenspiegel was standing holding in his hand the great pewter pot, which held the exact measure.

"Mother, what must I do?"

"Go," said Katheline.

Soetkin would not answer, not being mistress in the house: she said to Ulenspiegel, "Go, my son."

Ulenspiegel ran up to the Scaeck, whence he brought back the four quarts of dobbel-cuyt.

Soon the perfume of the heete-koeken spread throughout the kitchen, and all were hungry, even the sorrow-stricken widow.

Ulenspiegel ate heartily. Katheline had given him a great tankard saying that being the only male, and head in the house, he must drink more than the others and sing afterwards.

Saying this, she had a crafty look; but Ulenspiegel drank and did not sing. Nele wept, looking at Soetkin all pale and huddled down; only Katheline was gay.

After the meal Soetkin and Ulenspiegel went up to the garret to go to bed; Katheline and Nele remained in the kitchen where the beds were prepared.

Towards two in the morning, Ulenspiegel had long been asleep by reason of the heavy drink; Soetkin, with eyes open even as she had every night, was praying to Madame the Virgin to send her sleep, but Madame did not give ear.

Suddenly she heard the cry of a sea eagle and from the kitchen a like cry in answer; then from afar in the country, other cries resounded, and always she deemed that there was an answer from the kitchen.

Thinking that these were night birds, she paid no heed to them. She heard the neighing of horses and the clatter of iron-shod hoofs striking on the causeway; she opened the window of the garret and saw indeed two horses, saddled, pawing the ground, and browsing on the grass of the roadside. Then she heard the voice of a woman crying out, a man's voice threatening, blows struck, fresh cries, the banging of a door, and an agonized foot climbing the steps of the stair.

Ulenspiegel snored and heard nothing at all; the garret door opened; Nele came in all but naked, out of breath, panting, weeping, and sobbing, against the door she thrust a table, chairs, an old stove, all she could find in the shape of furniture. The last stars were nearly extinguished, the cocks were beginning to crow.

Ulenspiegel, at the noise that Nele had made, had turned in his bed, but still continued to sleep.

Nele then, flinging herself on Soetkin's neck: "Soetkin," she said, "I am afraid, light the candle."

Soetkin did so; and Nele still groaned the while.

The candle being lit, Soetkin looked at Nele and saw the girl's chemise torn at the shoulder and on her forehead, her cheek, and her neck bloody scratches such as might be made by fingernails.

"Nele," said Soetkin, embracing her, "whence come you wounded in this fashion?"

The girl, still trembling and moaning, said: "Do not have us burned, Soetkin."

In the meantime, Ulenspiegel awaked and was blinking in the candlelight. Soetkin said: "Who is below there?"

Nele replied:

"Hold thy peace, it is the husband she wants to give me."

Soetkin and Nele all at once heard Katheline cry out, and their limbs gave way under both of them.

"He is beating her, he is beating her on my account," said Nele.

"Who is in the house?" cried Ulenspiegel, leaping out of his bed. Then rubbing his eyes, he went searching about the chamber until he had got his hands on a weighty poker lying in a corner.

"No one," said Nele, "nobody at all; do not go down, Ulenspiegel!"

But he, paying no heed to anything, ran to the door, flinging aside chairs, tables, and stove. Katheline ceased not to cry out below; Nele and Soetkin clung to Ulenspiegel on the landing, one with her arms about his body, the other holding by his legs, saying: "Do not go down, Ulenspiegel, they are devils."

"Aye," he replied, "devil-husband of Nele, I will join him in wedlock with my poker. Betrothal of iron and flesh! Let me go down."

But still they would not let go, for they were strong by reason of their holding on the balusters. He dragged them down the steps of the staircase, and they were afraid at thus drawing nearer to the devils. But they could do nothing against him. Descending by leaps and bounds like a great snowball from the top of a mountain, he went into the kitchen, saw Katheline worn out and wan in the light of the dawn, and heard her saying: "Hanske, why dost thou leave me alone? It is not my fault if Nele is bad."

Ulenspiegel, without staying to listen to her, opened the stable door. Finding no one within, he dashed out into the garden and from thence into the highway; far off he saw two horses galloping and losing themselves in the mist. He ran to catch them up, but could not, for they went like the storm winds sweeping up the withered leaves.

Vexed and wild with anger and despair, he came back again, saying between his teeth: "They have violated her! they have violated her!" And with an ill flame burning in his eyes he looked on Nele, who, all shuddering, standing before the widow and Katheline, said: "No Thyl, no, my beloved, no!"

Saying so, she looked into his eyes so seriously and so candidly that Ulenspiegel well perceived that she spoke the truth. Then questioning her:

"Whence came these cries?" said he; "where were those men going? Why is thy chemise torn at the shoulder and the back? Why hast thou on thy cheek and forehead the marks of fingernails?"

"Listen," said she, "but do not have us burned, Ulenspiegel. Katheline, may God preserve her from hell! has now for three and twenty days a devil for lover, clad in black, booted and spurred. His face shines with the fire seen in summertime upon the waves of the sea when it is hot."

"Why art thou gone, Hanske, my darling?" said Katheline. "Nele is bad."

But Nele, going on with her tale, said: "He cries like a sea eagle to announce his presence. My mother sees him in the kitchen every Saturday. She says that his kisses are cold and his body like snow. He beats her when she does not do all that he would have her do. He once brought her some florins, but he took all the others from her."

During this tale, Soetkin, clasping her hands, prayed for Katheline. Katheline said, rejoicing:

"Mine is my body no longer, mine no longer is my spirit, but his. Hanske, my darling, bring me to the sabbath again. There is only Nele that never hath mind to come; Nele is bad."

"At daybreak he was wont to depart," continued the girl; "and on the morrow my mother would tell me a hundred marvels.... But there is no need to look on me with such cruel eyes, Ulenspiegel. Yesterday she told me that a fine seigneur, clothed in gray and called Hilbert, desired to have me in marriage and would come here to show himself to me. I answered that I had no mind for any husband, neither ugly nor handsome. By her maternal authority she forced me to remain up to wait their coming; for she loses none of her wits when it is a matter of her amours. We were half undressed, ready to go to bed; I was sleeping upon yonder chair. When they came within I did not wake. Suddenly I felt someone embracing me and kissing me on the neck. And by the light of the shining moon I beheld a face as bright as the crests of the waves of the sea in July, when it is like to thunder, and I heard one saying to me in a whispering voice: 'I am Hilbert, thy husband; be mine and I shall make thee rich.' The face of him that spake had a smell as of fish. I repulsed him; he would have taken me by force, but I had the strength of ten men like him. Even so he tore my chemise, wounded my face, and went on saying, 'Be mine, I shall make thee rich.' 'Aye,' I said, 'like my mother, from whom thou wilt take her last liard.' Then he redoubled his violence, but could avail naught against me. Then as he was uglier than a corpse, I gave him my nails in his eyes so hard that he screamed for the pain and I could break loose and come hither to Soetkin."

Katheline kept repeating:

"Nele is bad. Why hast thou gone so quickly, Hanske, my darling?"

"Where wast thou, ill mother," said Soetkin, "while they would have taken away thy child's honour?"

"Nele is bad," said Katheline. "I was with my black lord, when the gray devil came to us, his face all bloody, and said: 'Come away, lad: the house is a bad house; the men in it would beat us to the death, and the women have knives at their fingertips.' Then they ran to their horses and disappeared in the mist. Nele is bad!"

LXXXI

On the morrow, while they were drinking hot milk, Soetkin said to Katheline:

"Thou seest that sorrow is driving me already out of this world, wouldst thou drive me to flee from it through thy damned witchcrafts?"

But Katheline kept saying:

"Nele is bad. Come back, Hanske, my darling."

On the next Wednesday the devils came back together. Since the Saturday Nele slept at the house of the widow Van den Houte, saying that she could not stay at Katheline's by reason of the presence of Ulenspiegel, a young bachelor.

Katheline received her black lord and his friend in the keet, which is the wash house and the bakery appurtenant to the main dwelling. And then they held feast and revel with old wines and smoked ox tongues, that were always there awaiting them. The black devil said to Katheline:

"We have need," said he, "for an important task that is to be done, of a heavy sum of money; give us what thou canst."

Katheline, being unwilling to give more than a florin, they threatened to kill her. But they let her off with two gold carolus and seven deniers.

"Come no more on the Saturday," she told them. "Ulenspiegel knows that day and will await you with weapons to kill you, and I should die after you."

"We shall come next Tuesday," said they.

On that day Ulenspiegel and Nele slept without fear of the devils, for they believed that they came only on Saturday.

Katheline rose and went into the keet, to see if her friends had come.

She was sorely impatient, because since she had seen Hanske again, her madness had greatly lessened, for folk said it was love-madness.

Not seeing them, she was brokenhearted; when she heard the sea eagle cry from the direction of Sluys, in the country, she went towards the cry. Going in the meadow at the foot of a dyke of faggots and green sod, she heard from the other side of the dyke the two devils talking together. One said:

"I shall have the half of it."

The other replied:

"Thou shalt have none of it; what is Katheline's is mine."

Then they cursed and blasphemed like madmen, disputing between them who should have to himself alone the money and the loves of Katheline and Nele together. Transfixed with fear, daring neither to speak nor budge, Katheline presently heard them fighting, then one of them saying:

"This steel is cold." Then a rattling breath and the fall of a heavy body.

Affrighted, she walked back to her cottage. At two o'clock in the night she heard again, but now in her garden, the cry of the sea eagle. She went to open and saw before the door her lover devil alone. She asked him:

"What hast thou done with the other?"

"He will not come again," he answered.

Then embracing her he caressed her. And he seemed to her colder than usual. And Katheline's spirit was well awaked. When he went away, he asked her for twenty florins, all she had: she gave him seventeen.

On the morrow, being curious, she went along by the dyke; but she saw nothing, save at a spot as big as a man's coffin blood upon the turf that was less solid under foot. But that night rain washed away the blood.

The next Wednesday she heard the cry of the sea eagle once more in her garden.

LXXXII

Each time he needed money to pay their share of expenses at Katheline's Ulenspiegel went by night to lift the stone from the hole dug beside the well, and took out a carolus.

One night the three women were spinning; Ulenspiegel was carving with his knife a box that the bailiff had entrusted to him, and on which he was skilfully graving a goodly chase, with a pack of Hainaut dogs, mastiffs from Crete, the which are most savage beasts; Brabant dogs going in pairs and called ear biters, and other dogs, straight-legged, crook-legged, short-legged, and greyhounds.

Katheline being present, Nele asked Soetkin if she had hidden her treasure well. The widow answered without any misgivings that it could not be better than in the side of the well wall.

Towards the midnight, being Thursday, Soetkin was awakened by Bibulus Schnouffius, barking very sharply, but not for long. Deeming that it was some false alarm, she went to sleep again.

Friday morning, early, Soetkin and Ulenspiegel, having risen, did not see Katheline as usual in the kitchen, nor the fire lit, nor the milk boiling on the fire. They were dumbfounded and looked to see if she was not perchance in the garden. They saw her there, though it was misty rain, dishevelled, in her body linen all soaked and chilled, but not daring to enter.

Ulenspiegel, going to her, said:

"What dost thou there, half naked, when it rains?"

"Ah," she said, "aye, aye, a great portent!"

And she showed the dog with his throat cut and lying stiff.

Ulenspiegel thought at once of the treasure; he ran to it. The hole was empty and the earth strewed far about.

Leaping on Katheline and beating her:

"Where are the carolus?" he said.

"Aye, aye, a great portent!" replied Katheline.

Nele, defending her mother, cried out:

"Mercy and pity, Ulenspiegel!"

He ceased to strike. Soetkin then showed herself and asked what was the matter.

Ulenspiegel showed her the dog killed and the hole empty. Soetkin went white and said:

"Thou dost smite me cruelly, Lord God. My poor feet!"

And she said that because of the agony she had in them and the torment borne in vain for the gold carolus. Nele, seeing Soetkin so gentle, fell in despair and wept; Katheline, waving a piece of parchment, said:

"Aye, a great portent. Last night he came, kindly and goodly. No longer was there on his face that livid glow that gave me so much affright. He spoke to me with a great tenderness. I was ravished with joy, my heart melted within me. He said to me, 'Now I am rich, and will before long bring thee a thousand florins.' 'Aye,' said I, 'I am more glad for thy sake than for mine, Hanske, my darling.' 'But hast thou not here,' he asked, 'some other person thou lovest and whom I might make rich?' 'Nay,' I replied, 'those that be here have no need of thee.' 'Thou art proud,' said he, 'are then Soetkin and Ulenspiegel rich?' 'They live with no help from their neighbours,' I replied. 'In spite of the confiscation?' said he. To which I answered that you had endured the torture rather than allow your money to be taken. 'I was not without knowledge of that,' said he. And he began, laughing quiet and low, to jeer at the bailiff and the sheriffs, for that they had not been able to make you confess. Then I laughed equally. 'They had not been so silly,' said he, 'as to hide their treasure in their house.' I laughed. 'Nor in the cellar, here.' 'No, no,' said I. 'Nor in the garden?' I made no reply. 'Ah,' said he, 'it would be too much of an imprudence.' 'Not much,' said I, 'for neither the water nor the wall will speak.' And he continued to laugh.

"Last night he went away sooner than usual, after giving me a powder with which, said he, I could go to the finest of sabbaths. I brought him, in my linen, to the garden gate, and I was all overcome with sleep. I went, as he had said, to the sabbath, and came back only at daybreak, when I found myself here, and saw the dog dead and the hole empty. That is a very heavy blow for me, who loved him so tenderly and gave him my soul. But you shall have all I have, and I shall work with my feet and my hands to maintain you."

"I am the corn under the millstone: God and a robber devil strike me at the same time," said Soetkin.

"Robber, do not say so," rejoined Katheline; "he is a devil, a devil. And for proof, I will show you the parchment he left in the yard; there is written upon it: 'Never forget to do my service. In thrice two weeks and five days I shall return thee the twofold of the treasure. Have no doubt, else thou shalt die.' And he will keep his word, I am convinced and sure."

"Poor witless one!" said Soetkin.

And that was her last word of reproach.

LXXXIII

The two weeks having thrice passed by and the five days as well, the lover devil never came back. And still Katheline lived without despairing of it.

Soetkin, never working now, remained continually in front of the fire, coughing and bent. Nele gave her the best and most fragrant herbs: but no remedy had power upon her. Ulenspiegel never left the cottage, fearing that Soetkin might die while he was abroad.

Then it came that the widow could neither eat nor drink without vomiting. The barber surgeon came and bled her; the blood being taken from her, she was so weak that she could not leave her stool. At length, withered up with sorrow and pain, she said one evening:

"Claes, my husband! Thyl, my son! I thank thee, God who takest me away!"

And she died on a sigh.

Katheline not daring to watch by her, Ulenspiegel and Nele did it together, and all night long they prayed for the dead woman.

At dawn there entered by the open window a swallow.

Nele said:

"The bird of souls, 'tis a good omen: Soetkin is in heaven."

The swallow flew round the chamber thrice and went off with a cry.

Then there entered a second swallow, bigger and blacker than the other. It circled around Ulenspiegel, and he said:

"Father and Mother, the ashes beat against my breast, I shall do what ye ask."

And the second went away crying shrill like the first. The day showed brighter; Ulenspiegel saw thousands of swallows skimming the meadows, and the sun arose.

And Soetkin was buried in the field of the poor.

LXXXIV

After Soetkin's death, Ulenspiegel, dreamy, sorrowful, or angry, wandered about the kitchen, hearing nothing, taking what food or drink was given him, without choosing. And he often rose at night.

In vain did Nele with her soft voice exhort him to hope. Vainly did Katheline tell him that she knew Soetkin was in paradise with Claes. To all Ulenspiegel replied:

"The ashes are beating."

And he was as a man distraught, and Nele wept to see him in this plight.

Meanwhile, the fishmonger remained in his house alone like a parricide, and dared not go forth save by night; for men and women, passing near him, hooted him and called him murderer, and children fled before him, for they had been told that he was the executioner. He wandered alone and solitary, not daring to go into any of the three taverns of Damme; for he was pointed at in them, and if he merely remained standing for a minute inside, the drinkers went away.

Hence it came that the baesen wished not to see him again, and if he presented himself, shut their door to him. Then the fishmonger would offer a humble remonstrance: they would reply that it was their right and not their obligation to sell.

Tired of the struggle, the fishmonger used to go to drink in 't Roode Valck, at the Red Falcon, a little wine shop away from the town on the edge of the Sluys Canal. There they served him; for they were grubbing folk to whom any money was welcome. But the baes of the Roode Valck never spoke a word to him nor did his wife. There were two children and a dog in the house: when the fishmonger would have caressed the children, they ran away; and when he called the dog, the dog tried to bite him.

One evening Ulenspiegel stood on the threshold: Mathyssens the cooper, seeing him so pensive and dreaming, said to him:

"You should work with your hands and forget this sad blow."

Ulenspiegel answered:

"The ashes of Claes beat against my breast."

"Ah," said Mathyssens, "he leads a sadder life than thou, the wretched fishmonger. No man speaks to him, and everyone flees from him, so that he is driven to go among the poor ragamuffins at the Roode Valck to drink his quart of bruinbier by himself. 'Tis a sore punishment."

"The ashes beat!" said Ulenspiegel again.

That same evening, while the clock on Notre Dame was striking the ninth hour, Ulenspiegel went towards the Roode Valck, and seeing that the fishmonger was not there, he went wandering under the trees on the edge of the canal. The moon was shining bright and clear.

He saw the murderer coming.

As he passed before him, he could see him near at hand, and heard him say, speaking aloud like those who live alone:

"Where have they hidden these carolus?"

"Where the devil has found them," answered Ulenspiegel striking him full in the face with his fist.

"Alas!" said the fishmonger, "I know thee who thou art, thou art the son. Have pity, I am old and weak. What I did, it was not for hate, but to serve His Majesty. Deign to pardon me. I wilt give thee back the furniture I purchased, thou wilt not have to pay me one single patard for it. Is not that enough? I paid seven gold florins for them. Thou shalt have all and a demi-florin to boot, for I am not rich, it must not be imagined."

And he would have gone on his knees before him.

Ulenspiegel, seeing him so ugly, so trembling, and so cowardly and mean, flung him into the canal.

And he went away.

LXXXV

On the doomfires smoked the fat of the victims. Ulenspiegel, thinking of Claes and Soetkin, wept in solitude.

One night he went to find Katheline and ask her for a remedy and for vengeance.

She was alone with Nele sewing beside the lamp. At the noise he made on coming within, Katheline dully lifted up her head like a woman awakened out of a heavy slumber.

He said to her:

"The ashes of Claes beat upon my breast; I would fain save the land of Flanders. I asked the Great God of heaven and earth, but He gave me no answer."

Katheline said:

"The Great God could not hear you: first you must address yourself to the spirits of the elemental world, which being of double nature, celestial and terrestrial, receive the complaints of poor humankind, and transmit them to the angels, which after bear them to the throne."

"Help me," said he, "in my design; I will pay thee with my blood if need be."

Replied Katheline:

"I will help thee, if a girl that loveth thee would bring thee with her to the sabbath of the Spirits of the Springtide, which is the Easter of the Sap."

"I will bring him," said Nele.

Katheline poured into a crystal goblet a grayish coloured mixture of which she gave them both to drink; with this mixture she rubbed their temples, their nostrils, palms of the hand and wrists, made them swallow a pinch of a white powder, and bade them look at the other, that their two souls might become as but one.

Ulenspiegel looked at Nele, and the kind soft eyes of the girl lit up a great fire within him; then by reason of the mixture he felt as it might have been a thousand crabs tearing at him.

Then they took off their clothes, and they were beautiful thus in the lamplight, he in his proud strength, she in her delicious grace; but they could not see one another, for already they were as though in sleep. Then Katheline laid Nele's neck upon Ulenspiegel's arm, and taking his hand put it upon the maiden's heart.

And they remained thus naked and lying one beside the other.

It seemed to them twain that their bodies touching each other were of fire soft as the sun in the month of roses.

They rose up, as they told later, mounted upon the window sill, launched themselves thence into void space, and felt the air bear them up as the water bears the ships.