XXV

XXVNow in those days Katheline had effected a cure, by means of herbs, on three sheep, an ox, and a pig, all belonging to a certain man named Speelman. She also attempted to cure a cow, the property of one Jan Beloen, but in this she was not successful. Jan Beloen promptly accused her of being a witch, asserting that she had laid a charm on the animal, inasmuch as all the time she was giving the herbs she had caressed it and talked to it, in the Devil’s own language, as was evident—for what business has an honest Christian woman to go talking with an animal...?Jan Beloen added that he was a neighbour of Speelman’s, the man whose ox had been cured, together with three sheep and a pig as aforesaid, and if Katheline had now killed his cow, it was doubtless at the instigation of Speelman, who was jealous at seeing his, Beloen’s, land better and more profitably cultivated than his own. Pieter Meulmeester, a man of good life and reputation, and Jan Beloen himself both testified that Katheline was commonly reputed to be a witch by the people of Damme, and that she had certainly killed the cow; and on this testimony Katheline was arrested and condemned to be tortured until she had confessed her crimes and malpractices.She was cross-examined by a certain alderman who was notorious for his ill-temper, for he was accustomed to drink brandy all the day long. And he ordered her to be placed on the seat of torture in the presence of himself and the members of the Town Council.The torturer put her on the seat stark naked, and then shaved off her hair, looking carefully to see that no charm was concealed anywhere about her person. Finding none, he bound her with cords to the seat of torture. And she said:“It shames me to be naked before these men. O Mother Mary, let me die!”The torturer then wrapped some damp cloths round her breast and body and legs, and raising the bench upright he proceeded to pour great quantities of hot water down her throat so that her stomach became all swollen. Then he let the bench down again.The alderman asked Katheline if she would now acknowledge her crime. She made a sign in the negative. And the torturer poured more hot water into her; but this Katheline brought all up again.Then by the advice of the doctor she was released. But she did not speak a word, only beat her breast as much as to say that the hot water had burned her. When the torturer saw that she was recovered from this first ordeal, he said to her:“Confess that you are a witch, and that you laid a charm on the cow.”“I will confess no such thing,” replied Katheline. “I am here in your power. Nevertheless, I tell you that an animal can die of an illness, just as a man can, and in spite of all the help of surgeons and of doctors. And I swear by Our Lord Christ who was pleased to die upon the Cross for our sins, that I wished to do no harm to this cow, but simply to cure her by well-known remedies.”Thereat the alderman was angry and cried out:“This devil’s drab, she cannot go on lying for ever! Put her to the second torture.”Then he drank a large glass of brandy.The torturer meanwhile sat Katheline down on the lid of an oak coffin which was placed on trestles. Now the coffin-lid was pointed like a roof, and the edge of it was as sharp as a sword. A great fire was burning in the fireplace, for it was the month of November. Katheline, seated on the edge of the coffin-lid, had her feet shod in shoes of new leather several sizes too small for her, and then she was placed infront of the fire. When she began to feel the sharp wood of the coffin-lid cutting into her flesh, and when her shoes began to shrink under the heat of the fire, Katheline cried aloud:“Oh, agony! Will no one give me a draught of black poison?”“Put her nearer the fire,” said the alderman.Then he inquired of her:“How often, pray, have you ridden on a broom to the Witches’ Sabbath? And how many times have you caused the corn to wither in the ear, and the fruit on the tree, and the babe in the womb of its mother? And turned most loving brothers into sworn enemies, and sisters into rivals full of hatred?”Katheline would have answered if she had been able. But she could only move her arms, as if to say “No.” But the alderman said:“I see she will not speak till she has felt her witch’s fat all melting in the fire. Put her nearer.”Katheline cried out. But the alderman said:“You had better ask Satan, your friend, to refresh you.”And now her shoes were beginning to smoke in the heat of the fire, so that she made a gesture as if to try and take them off.“Ask Satan to help you,” said the alderman.Ten o’clock struck. It was the madman’s dinner hour. And he retired with the torturer and the clerk of the court, leaving Katheline alone in front of the fire in the place of torture.An hour later they returned. Katheline was still sitting there stiff and motionless. The clerk said:“I think she is dead.”The alderman commanded the torturer to remove Katheline from the coffin-lid, and to take off the shoes from her feet. This he could not do, so that he was forced to cut them,and Katheline’s feet were exposed to view, all red and bleeding. The alderman, whose thoughts were still with his dinner, gazed at her without a word. But after a while she came to her senses, and fell upon the ground, nor was she able to get up again in spite of many attempts. Then she said to the alderman:“Once you desired me for your wife. But now you shall have none of me!Four times three is the sacred number, and my husband is the thirteenth.”The alderman was going to answer her, but she forestalled him:“Be silent. His hearing is more delicate than that of the archangel in heaven who counts the heart-beats of the just. Why are you so late?Four times three is the sacred number.He killeth those who hold me in desire.”The alderman said:“It seems she welcomes the devil to her bed!”“The pains of the torture have turned her brain,” said the clerk.So Katheline was taken back into prison. And three days later there was a meeting of the aldermen in the Council Hall; and after some deliberation Katheline was condemned to suffer the ordeal by fire.She was taken to the grand market of Damme by the torturer and his assistants. There she was made to mount the scaffold. In the square were assembled the provost, the herald, and the judges. The herald sounded his trumpet thrice, then turned towards the crowd and made the following announcement:“The Council of Damme,” he cried, “having taken pity upon the woman Katheline, have decreed that punishment shall not be exacted to the full extremity of the rigour of our laws. Nevertheless, in witness that she is a sorceress, her hair shall be burned, she shall pay a fine of twentycarolus d’or, and she shall be banished from the territory of Damme forthe space of three years, under penalty of losing one of her limbs.”And at this rough gentleness the people broke into applause.Then the torturer tied Katheline to the stake, placed on her shorn scalp a wig of tow, and held it in the fire. And the tow burned for a long time, and Katheline cried aloud and wept.Then they released her, and she was put in a cart and taken away outside the territory of Damme. She could not walk at all, because of her feet that were burned.XXVIUlenspiegel, meanwhile, had arrived in his wanderings at the fish-market at Liége. There he descried a tall young fellow carrying under his arm a net filled with all sorts of poultry, and another net also which he was rapidly filling with haddock, trout, eels, and pike.Ulenspiegel recognized him as none other than his old friend Lamme Goedzak.“What are you doing here, Lamme?” he said.“You must know,” Lamme answered, “that many people have lately emigrated from Flanders to this gentle land of Liége. As for me, I follow my loves. And you?”“I am on the look-out for a master to serve for my daily bread,” said Ulenspiegel.“Bread is a dry sort of nourishment,” said Lamme. “You would do better to try a chaplet of ortolans with a thrush for theCredo.”“You have plenty of money?” Ulenspiegel inquired.Lamme Goedzak made answer:“I have lost my father and mother, and that young sister of mine that used to beat me so. I shall inherit all their property, and now I am living with a one-eyed servant who is very learned in the noble art of making fricassees.”“Would you like me to carry your fish and your poultry for you?” suggested Ulenspiegel.“Yes,” said Lamme.And together they began to wander through the market. All at once Lamme said to his companion:“You are mad. Do you know why?”“No,” said Ulenspiegel.“Because you go carrying fish and poultry in your hand instead of in your stomach.”“You are right, Lamme,” said Ulenspiegel; “but since I have lacked bread, ortolans will not even look at me.”“You shall eat your fill of them,” said Lamme, “and serve me too, if my cook takes a fancy to you.”While they were walking along, Lamme pointed out to Ulenspiegel a beautiful young girl, who was walking through the market. She wore a silk dress and gazed at Lamme with sweet and gentle eyes. An old man, her father, walked just behind, carrying two nets, one filled with fish, the other with game.“See that girl?” said Lamme, pointing at her. “I am going to marry her.”“Oh!” said Ulenspiegel, “I know her. She is a Flemish maid from Zotteghem. She lives in the rue Vinave-d’Isle, and the neighbours say that she lets her mother sweep the road in front of the house in her stead, while her own father irons her underclothing.”To this Lamme made no answer, but exclaimed delightedly:“She looked at me just now!”By this time they were come to Lamme’s lodging, near the Pont-des-Arches. They knocked at the door, and a one-eyed servant opened to them. Ulenspiegel saw that she was old, scraggy, lank, and fierce of aspect.Lamme addressed her asLa Sanginne, and inquired if she would take Ulenspiegel to help in the kitchen.“I will give him a trial,” she said.“Then take him,” said Lamme, “and let him also make trial of the delights of your kitchen.”La Sanginne put three black puddings on the table, a pint of ale, and a large loaf of bread. Ulenspiegel set to with a will, and Lamme began to nibble at one of the puddings.“Know you,” Lamme asked presently, “where it is that our souls abide?”“No, Lamme,” said Ulenspiegel.“In our stomachs,” Lamme told him, “so they can keep them excavated continually, and for ever renew in our bodies the impulse for life. And who are the best companions for a man? I’ll tell you. The best companions for a man are all good and jolly things to eat, and wine from the Meuse to crown all!”“True,” said Ulenspiegel. “A pudding is good company to a solitary soul.”“He’s still hungry,” said Lamme to La Sanginne. “Give him some more.” And the woman served him with a second portion of pudding—white this time.While Ulenspiegel went on eating, Lamme grew thoughtful.“When I die,” said he, “my stomach will die with me, and down there in purgatory they will leave me to fast, and I shall have to carry my poor belly about with me, all empty and limp.”“I like the black ones best,” said Ulenspiegel.“You have eaten six already,” said La Sanginne, “and you won’t have any more.”“You may be sure,” said Lamme, “that you will be well treated here, and you will have just the same to eat as I do.”“I shall remember this promise of yours,” said Ulenspiegel. But seeing that what his friend had told him was the truth, Ulenspiegel was well content, and the puddings that he had swallowed gave him such courage that on that veryday he polished the kettles and the pots and the pans till they shone like the sun. And he lived happily in that house, frequenting willingly the kitchen and the wine-cellar, and leaving the loft to the cats.One day La Sanginne had two poulets to roast, and she asked Ulenspiegel to turn the spit while she went to market for some herbs for a seasoning. The two poulets being well roasted, Ulenspiegel took one of them and ate it. When La Sanginne returned from the market she remarked:“There were two poulets, but now I can only see one.”“Just open your other eye,” answered Ulenspiegel, “and you will see the two of them all right!”But she was angry, and went to Lamme Goedzak to tell him what had happened. Lamme came down into the kitchen and said to Ulenspiegel:“Why do you make fun of my serving-maid? There were certainly two poulets.”“Therewere,” said Ulenspiegel, “but when I came you told me that I was to eat and drink just as much as you. There were two poulets. Very well. I have eaten one, and you will eat the other. My pleasure is over. Yours is still to come. Are you not happier than I?”“Yes,” said Lamme smiling, “but just you do what La Sanginne tells you, and you’ll find your work halved.”“I will be careful to do as you say,” said Ulenspiegel.So every time that La Sanginne told him to do anything he did but the half of it. If she asked him to go and draw two pails of water he would only bring back one; and if she told him to go and fill a pot of ale at the cask, he would pour the half of it down his throat on the way—and so on and so on.At last La Sanginne grew tired of these goings on, and she told Lamme that either this good-for-nothing fellow must leave the house or she must leave herself.Lamme descended on Ulenspiegel and told him:“You’ll have to go, my son, notwithstanding that you have looked so much better in health since you have been here. Listen to that cock crowing. And it’s two o’clock of the afternoon! That means rain. I am sorry to have to put you out of doors in bad weather. But there, my son, you know that La Sanginne is the guardian angel of my life, with her lovely fricassees. If she were to leave me I might die a speedy death. I cannot risk it. Go then, my boy, and God be with you, and here are three florins and this string of saveloys to liven your journey.”And Ulenspiegel departed, crestfallen and with many regrets for Lamme and his kitchen.XXVIIThere was a rumour abroad that the Emperor Charles was going to annul the right of the monks to inherit the estates of those who happened to die in their convents, a thing which was very displeasing to the Pope.One day when Ulenspiegel was come to fish from the banks of the river Meuse, he was thinking to himself that by the above action the Emperor would stand to profit both ways, since he would inherit the said estates, while the family of the deceased would inherit nothing at all. Pondering these thoughts, he carefully baited his hook, and then sat down by the river-side. And he began to nibble at a piece of stale brown bread, regretting the while that he had no good Romagna wine wherewith to wash it down. Still, he thought, one cannot always have everything just as one would like. And all the time he kept on throwing little pieces of his bread into the water, saying to himself that no man deserves a meal who will not share it with his neighbours.Now it was that a gudgeon came upon the scene, attracted in the first place by the odour of bread-crumbs; and he licked up the bread with his lips and opened his mouth for more, thinking no doubt in his innocence that the bread would fallinto his gullet of itself. But while gazing thus in the air the gudgeon was suddenly swallowed up by a treacherous pike who had hurled himself upon him like a flash of lightning.Now the pike played a similar trick upon a carp who was catching flies on the top of the water without any fear of danger. And after this good meal the pike stayed motionless below the surface of the water, disdainful of the smaller fry, who, indeed, were only too glad to swim away from him of their own accord and as fast as ever they could. But while the pike was taking his ease in this manner, a second pike came up; and he was a hungry pike, and his mouth was open wide, for as yet he had not breakfasted. With a bound the new arrival threw himself upon his brother, and a furious combat ensued. They lashed at one another with their fins, the water was red with their blood. The pike that had eaten defended himself but feebly against the assaults of the hungry one; nevertheless, backing a little, he took courage again and threw himself like a bullet against his adversary. The latter awaited this new attack with open jaws, which did not close until more than half of his assailant’s head had disappeared between them. Now they tried to free themselves, but could not because of the hooked teeth of the one that had become embedded in the flesh of the other. And so they battled against each other in despair. Nor did they notice, interlocked as they were, the strong fish-hook at the end of a silken cord, which rose towards them from the depths of the water. In another moment it had embedded itself in the body of the pike that had dined, and the two struggling fish found themselves drawn out of the water and laid together on the grass without the least deference.As he killed them Ulenspiegel said:“Ha ha, my little pikes, I will call you the Pope and the Emperor, that prey ever one upon the other; but I, forsooth, am the Common Man that shall catch you on his hook, in God’s good time, and make an end of your battles!”XXVIIIIn the meantime Nele was taking care of Katheline, who was still out of her mind and who called continually upon Hanske, her ice-cold lover. But sometimes Nele would leave her mother safely guarded in the house of some kindly neighbour, and herself would wander far and wide and all alone, even unto Antwerp, searching ever, among the ships on the river, or along the dusty roads, for Ulenspiegel.And at home, also, in the house of Claes, it was evil days. Claes worked sadly on his land alone, for there was not enough work for two. And Soetkin stayed in the cottage by herself, cooking the beans which formed their daily fare in a hundred different ways, so that she might have something to enliven her husband’s appetite. And she sang and laughed all the time, so that he might not be grieved by seeing her unhappy.One day a man on horseback drew up in front of the cottage. He was dressed all in black, he was very thin, and very sad of countenance.“Is any one within?” he asked.“God bless your sadness,” answered Soetkin, “but am I a phantom, that seeing me here you must yet inquire if there is any one within?”“Where is your father?” asked the horseman.“If my father’s name is Claes, he is over there,” Soetkin told him. “You will find him sowing corn.”The horseman departed in the direction in which she had pointed, and Soetkin also went her way ruefully, for this was the sixth time that she had had to go to the baker’s to buy bread with no money to pay for it.On returning empty-handed to the cottage, Soetkin was amazed to see Claes coming down the road triumphantly seated on the horse of the man in black. He looked very proud of himself, and the man in black walked by his sideholding the horse’s bridle. Hanging at his side, Claes held a leathern bag which appeared to be full of things. Dismounting from the horse, Claes embraced his companion, gave him a playful pat upon the back, and then, shaking the bag, cried out in a loud voice:“Long life to Josse, my brother, the good hermit of Meyborg! May God keep him in joy and fatness, in happiness and health! Our Josse, patron of plenty, and of all abundance, and rich soups!”And so saying he took up the sack and deposited it upon the table. But Soetkin said sadly:“My good man, we shall not eat this day. The baker has refused to give me any bread.”“Bread?” cried Claes, opening the sack and letting a river of golden coins roll out on the table. “Bread? Here is bread and butter, meat, wine, beer! Here are hams, marrow-bones, pasties, ortolans, fatted poulets, castrelins, all just as you might find them in the houses of the rich! Bread indeed! Here are casks of beer and kegs of wine! Mad must be the baker who will refuse to give us bread. Verily we will deal at his shop no more!”“But, my good man!” said Soetkin amazed.“Nay, listen,” said Claes, “and make the most of your good fortune. For these are the facts. Katheline, it seems, has lately been to Meyborg in Germany, and Nele with her, on a visit to my eldest brother Josse, who dwells there as a hermit. Nele told my brother how that we were living in poverty, notwithstanding that we work so hard. And now, if we are to believe this good messenger”—and here Claes pointed to the black horseman—“Josse has left the holy Roman religion and abandoned himself to the heresy of Luther.”The man in black made answer:“It is they that are heretics, they who follow the cult of the Scarlet Woman. For the Pope is a cheat and a trader in holy things.”“Oh!” cried Soetkin, “speak not so loud, sir. You will have us burned alive, all three.”“Well,” continued Claes, “it appears that Josse has made known to this good messenger that inasmuch as he is going to fight in the army of Frederic of Saxony, and is bringing him fifty armed men fully equipped, he has no need of much money to leave it to the hands of some wretch of a landsknecht, now that he himself is going to the war. Therefore, says he, take it to my brother Claes, and render to him, with my blessing, these seven hundred florins. Tell him to live virtuously, and to ponder the salvation of his soul.”“Yea, verily,” said the horseman, “now is the time. For God will reward every man according to his works, and every man according to his merit.”“Good sir,” said Claes, “it is not forbidden, I trust, to rejoice in the meantime at this good news? Deign, then, to stay with us, and we will celebrate our fortune with a nice dinner of tripe, well boiled, and a knuckle of that ham which I saw just now at the pork-butcher’s. Of a truth, it looked so plump and tasty that my teeth almost shot out of my mouth to close thereon.”“Alas!” said the stranger, “the foolish make merry while the eye of the Lord is yet upon them.”“Come now, messenger,” said Claes, “will you eat and drink with us or will you not?”The man answered: “It will be time enough for the faithful to think about such earthly joys when mighty Babylon has fallen.”Seeing Claes and Soetkin cross themselves, he made as though to leave them. But Claes said to him:“Since you persist in leaving us without accepting of our hospitality, will you at least give to my brother the kiss of peace on my behalf, and look after him well at the wars.”“That will I,” said the man.And he departed from them, while Soetkin went to make her preparations for celebrating their good fortune.Now it was quickly noised abroad through the town that Claes that was once so poor had now become rich through the generosity of his brother Josse. And the Dean of Damme was heard to say that it was Katheline no doubt who had laid a charm on Josse, and he said this because Claes, although he had received a large sum of money from his brother, had given not so much as a single vestment to Notre Dame. But Claes and Soetkin were happy again, Claes working in the fields or looking after his business of charcoal-burning, while Soetkin attended to her home right valiantly. Yet still was she sorrowful at heart, scanning ever with her eyes the open road if perchance she might see her son Ulenspiegel returning back to her. And thus it was these three lived on and experienced the happiness which comes from God while waiting for that which was going to come to them from men.XXIXThe Emperor Charles had received a letter from England, from Philip, who was now married to the Queen of that country.“Sir and Father,” the letter ran,—“It is matter of sore displeasure to me that I should have to live in a country like this where the accursed heretics swarm like fleas and worms and locusts. Fire and sword are needed to remove them from the trunk of that tree of life which is our Holy Mother the Church. And, as if this were not trouble enough, I have also to put up with being regarded not as a King but merely as the husband of the Queen; for in very truth apart from her I am destitute of all authority. And the English make mock of me, spreading broadcast the most shameful pamphlets which assert that I am being bribed by the Pope to afflict their country with every kind of impious burning and persecution.Nor can I discover who it is that writes these pamphlets, nor yet who prints them. And when I try to raise from the people some necessary contribution (for in their malice and wickedness they often leave me without any money at all), they answer by advising me, in coarse lampoons, to ask of Satan in whose pay I am. Parliament makes excuses for fear of my sting, but I can get nothing out of them. And meanwhile the walls of London are covered with the grossest pictures representing me as a parricide who is ready to strike down your Majesty for the sake of my inheritance. But well you know, my Lord and Father, that notwithstanding all the hopes of a legitimate ambition, I most certainly desire that your Majesty may enjoy yet long and glorious years of rule. Furthermore, there are circulating through the city certain engravings on copper which show me torturing animals and laughing the while. But well you know, Sire, that if ever it has happened to me to taste this profane pleasure, I have surely never laughed thereat. But they try to make out that this innocent sport is a sort of crime, despite the fact that animals have no souls, and although it is assuredly permitted to all men, especially if they be of Royal birth, to make use of brute beasts even unto death for purposes of honest recreation. But in this land of England the people are so fond of animals that they treat their animals better than their own servants. The stables and dog-kennels are kept like palaces, and I have known great lords who pass the night on the same litter with their horse. To crown all, my noble Wife and Queen is barren, and these people have the outrageous effrontery to declare that I am to blame and not she, who is in other respects a most jealous and intractable woman, and amorous to excess. Sir and Father, I pray daily that the Lord God may have me in his grace, and I live in hopes that another throne may be given me, even though it be with the Turk, what time I still await that other gloriousthrone to which I shall be one day called by the honour of being the son of your very Glorious and Victorious Majesty.(Signed)Phle.”To this letter the Emperor made reply in the following terms:“Sir and Son,—You have bitter enemies, I do not dispute it; but you must try to endure them without vexation in anticipation of the yet more brilliant crown that shall be yours hereafter. I have already made it widely known that I am determined to retire from my lordship over the Low Countries and other of my dominions, for I am growing old and gouty, and I know that I shall not long be able to withstand King Henry the Second of France, for Fortune ever favours the young. You should remember also that so long as you are master of England, you will be as a thorn in the side of our enemy France. Truly I suffered a nasty defeat at Metz, and lost there near forty thousand men. I was compelled to retreat before the King of Saxony. If God does not soon see fit by a stroke of His good and divine will to re-establish me in the force and vigour of my prime, I am inclined, Sir and Son, to quit my kingdoms altogether and to leave them to you.“Have patience therefore, and do your duty meanwhile against the heretics, sparing none of them, man, woman, girl, or child, for I am credibly informed that Madame your Queen has been minded to treat them mercifully, and this is a great grief to me.“Your affectionate father,“(Signed)Charles.”XXXUlenspiegel had been long upon the road. His feet were bleeding, but in the district of the bishopric of Mayence hemet a wagon full of pilgrims who invited him to join them, and they carried him with them to Rome.When they arrived at the city Ulenspiegel got down from the wagon, and straightway noticed a charming-looking woman standing at the door of an inn. She smiled when she saw him looking at her.Taking this kindly humour of hers for a good omen:“Hostess,” says he, “will you give asile, pray, to a poor pilgrim on pilgrimage who has carried his full time and is about to be delivered of his sins?”“We give asile to all such as pay us for it,” said the woman.I have a hundred ducats in my purse,” said Ulenspiegel (who, in fact, had no more than one), “and I would dearly like to spend the first of them in your pleasant company and over a bottle of old Roman wine.”“Wine is not dear in these holy parts,” she answered. “Come in and drink your fill. It will only cost you asoldo.”And they twain drank together for so long, and emptied so many bottles of wine and all to the tune of such pleasant conversation, that the hostess was constrained to order her servant to serve the customers in her place, while she and Ulenspiegel retired into a room at the back of the inn, a marble chamber, cool as a winter’s day, where, leaning her head on her new friend’s shoulder, she demanded of him who he might be.And Ulenspiegel answered her:“I am Lord of Geeland, Count of Gavergeëten, Baron of Tuchtendeel. I was born at Damme, in Flanders, and I hold there for my estate five and twenty acres of moonlight.”“What land is that whence you come?” the hostess asked him, drinking from Ulenspiegel’s tankard.“It is a misty land,” he told her, “a land of illusion, where are sown the seeds of false hopes and of castles in theair. But you, sweet hostess mine, were born in no such land of moonlight, you with your amber skin and your eyes that shine like pearls. For bright is the sunshine that has coloured that browned gold of your hair, and it is Lady Venus herself who, without a single pang of jealousy, has formed your soft shoulders, and your prancing breasts, your rounded arms, your delicate sweet hands. Say, shall we sup together this night?”“Fine pilgrim that you are from Flanders,” says she, “say, why are you come hither?”“To have a talk with the Pope,” said Ulenspiegel.“Heavens!” she cried, clasping her hands together, “and that is something that even myself, a native of the country, have never been able to do!”“Yet shall I,” said Ulenspiegel.“But know you where the Pope lives, what he is like, what are his habits and his ways of life?”“I heard all about him on the way,” answered Ulenspiegel. “His name is Julius III. Wanton he is, and gay and dissolute, a good talker, that never falters for a clever repartee. I have also heard that he has taken an extraordinary fancy to a little dirty beggar of a man—a dark fellow and a rude who used to wander about with a monkey asking for alms. He came to the Pope, and the Pope, it seems, has made a Cardinal of him, and now gets quite ill if a single day passes without their meeting.”“Have some more to drink,” said the landlady, “and do not speak so loud.”“I have also heard,” continued Ulenspiegel, “that one day he swore like a soldier,Al dispetto di Dio, potta di Dio, and all because they did not bring him the cold peacock that he had ordered to be kept for his supper. And he excused himself, saying, ‘If my Master was angered over an apple, I, who am the vicar of God, can certainly swear an oath about a pheasant!’ You see, my pet, I know the Pope very well, and understand just what sort of a man he is!”“Oh dear,” she said, “pray be careful and do not tell this to any one else. But still, and in spite of all you tell me, I maintain that you will not get to see him.”“I shall,” said Ulenspiegel.“I will wager you a hundred florins.”“They are mine!” said Ulenspiegel.The very next day, tired as he was, he ran through all the city and found out that the Pope was to say Mass that morning at the Church of St. John Lateran. Thither Ulenspiegel repaired, and took up a position as prominently in the Pope’s view as he could. And every time that the Pope elevated chalice or Host, Ulenspiegel turned his back to the altar. Now one of the cardinals was officiating with the Pope, swarthy of countenance he was, malicious and corpulent; and on his shoulder he carried a monkey. He reported Ulenspiegel’s behaviour to the Pope, who straightway after Mass sent four terrible-looking soldiers (such as one finds in those warlike lands) to seize the pilgrim.“What religion do you profess?” the Pope asked him.“Most Holy Father,” answered Ulenspiegel, “my religion is the same as my landlady’s.”The Pope had the woman fetched.“What is your religion?” he asked her.“The same as your Holiness’s,” she told him.“That also is mine,” said Ulenspiegel.The Pope asked him why he turned his back upon the Holy Sacrament.“I felt myself unworthy to look upon it face to face,” he answered.“You are a pilgrim?” said the Pope.“Yes,” answered Ulenspiegel, “and I am come from Flanders to beg remission of my sins.”The Pope absolved and blessed him, and Ulenspiegel departed in the company of his landlady, who paid over to him his hundred florins. And with this good store of moneyhe departed from Rome and set out to return again to the land of Flanders.But he had to pay seven ducats for the certificate of his pardon, all scribed upon parchment.XXXIIn those days there came to Damme two brothers of the Premonstratensian Order, sellers of indulgences. And over their monastic robes they wore beautiful jackets bordered with lace.When it was fine they stood outside the porch of the church, and under the porch when it was wet, and there they stuck up their tariff; and this was the scale of charges: for sixliardsa hundred years’ indulgence, for onepatardtwo hundred years, three hundred years for half a sovereign, four hundred years for seven florins, and so on according to the price—indulgences plenary or semi-plenary, and pardons for all the most terrible crimes.And they gave to their patrons, in exchange for payment, little parchment certificates on which were written out the number of years of indulgence, and below was the following inscription:Who wants not to beStewed, roasted, fricasseed,Burning in hell for evermore,Indulgences let him buy.Pardon and forgiveness,For a little money,God will return to him.And the eager purchasers came thronging round the monks. One of whom never left off addressing his audience. This brother had a blooming countenance, and displayed three chins at least, and a portentous belly, all without the least embarrassment.The Monk’s SermonThe Monk’s Sermon“Unhappy ones!” he cried, fixing with his eye now one, now another of the crowd. “Unhappy ones! Let me show you a picture. Behold! You are in hell! The fire burns you most cruelly. You are boiling in that cauldron full of oil wherein are prepared theolie-koekjesof Astarte. You are nothing better than a sausage on the frying-pan of Lucifer, or a leg of mutton on the spit of Guilguiroth, biggest of all the devils. And first they cut you up in little pieces. Ah, woe is me! Behold this sinner who despised indulgences! Behold this plate of daintiness! ’Tis he! ’Tis he! His wicked body thus reduced by damnation. And for sauce, brimstone and pitch and tar! Thus are those poor sinners eaten alive to be born again continually to their pain! And here in all reality is the place of tears and of grinding of teeth. Have mercy, God of mercy! For now, poor damned one, you are in hell, and you suffer unspeakable woes. And yet if any there were to subscribe adenierfor you, straightway one of your hands would find relief; and let but some other give a half adenierand your two hands would be freed entirely from the pain of the fire. But as for the remainder of your body, let some one only give a florin, and there falls the dew of indulgence over all! O freshness of delight! And now for ten days, a hundred days, a thousand years maybe, according as one pays, no more roast meat, no moreolie-koekjes, no more fricassees for you! And even if it is not for yourself, is there no one else, there in the secret depths of the fire, no one else for whom you would wish to gain relief—one of your parents perhaps, a dear wife, or some lovely girl with whom you have committed wilful sin?”And as he spoke these words, the monk jogged the elbow of his brother that stood by holding in his hands a silver bowl. And that brother, lowering his eyes at this signal, shook the bowl unctuously, as if inviting contributions.Whereat the preacher continued in this wise: “Or perhaps you have a son or a daughter, maybe, in the midstof this terrible fire, or some beloved little child? Hark, how they cry aloud, and weep, and call to you by name. Can you remain deaf to their pitiful voices? You cannot. Even a heart of ice must melt, though it cost you a carolus! And behold, at the very sound of the carolus as it strikes this vile metal” (and here his comrade shook the plate again), “a space opens out in the midst of the fire, and the tormented soul ascends to some volcano mouth where it meets the air, the fresh, free air! Where are the pains of the fire now? For the sea is close at hand, and straight into the sea the soul plunges. She swims on her back, on her stomach, floats upon the waves, dives beneath them. Oh, listen how she sings aloud in her joy! See how she rolls about in the water! The very angels gaze down upon her from heaven and are glad. Eagerly they await her coming; but not yet, not yet has she had her fill of the sea. If she might only turn into a fish! She knoweth not how there are prepared for her up aloft sweet baths, perfumed and scented, with fine bits of sugar-candy floating therein, all white and fresh like bits of ice. Now a shark appears. She fears it not at all, but clambers upon its back, and sits there all unnoticed, hoping he will take her with him down into the depths of the sea. And now she goes to greet the little water-angels that feed on waterzoey from coral cauldrons, and on freshest oysters from plates of mother-of-pearl. And she is welcomed and fêted and made much of, but still the angels in heaven beckon her on high, till at last, refreshed and happy, you may see her rise aloft, singing like a lark, up to the highest heaven where God sits in glory on his throne. There she finds again all her earthly friends and loved ones (save only those, forsooth, that in this life have spoken ill of indulgences and of our Holy Mother Church and who burn now for their sin upon the floor of hell. And so for ever and for ever and for ever to all ages, in an all-consuming eternity). But that other soul, now dear to God, refreshes herself in soft baths and crunches sugar-candy.Buy then, my brothers, buy your indulgences. We sell them forcrusats, for florins, or for English sovereigns. Even copper coin is not refused. Buy then, buy! This is the Holy Mart! And we have indulgences adapted to the poor man’s purse as well as to the rich man’s. Only, I am sorry to say, my brothers, no credit is allowed. For to buy without paying cash is a crime most grievous in the eyes of Our Lord.”Hereupon the monk who had kept silent shook his platter, and the florins,crusats,patards,sols, anddeniersfell into it as thick as hail.Claes, feeling himself rich, paid a florin for an indulgence of ten thousand years; and the monks delivered to him a piece of parchment in exchange.At last, seeing that there was no one left in Damme but the miserly folk who would not buy indulgences at any price, the two monks left the village and proceeded on their way to Heyst.XXXIIIn those days the country round Liége was in a disturbed and dangerous state by reason of the heresy hunts, and Lamme Goedzak came again to live in Damme. He was married now, and his wife followed him willingly because the people of Liége, who had a mocking nature, used to make fun of her husband’s meekness.Lamme often visited Claes, who, since coming into his fortune, was always to be found at the tavern of theBlauwe Torre, and had even appropriated one of the tables for himself and his boon companions. This table was next to the one where sat the Dean of the Fishmongers, Josse Grypstuiver by name, drinking sparingly from his half-pint tankard. For he was a miser, a stingy fellow who thought the world of himself, and lived for the most part on smoked herrings, and thought more of money than of the safety of his own soul. Now Claes carried in his pocket that piece of parchmentwhereon was inscribed the tale of his ten-thousand-year indulgence.One evening Claes was drinking at theBlauwe Torrein the company of Lamme Goedzak, Jan van Roosebeke, and Matthys van Assche, Josse Grypstuiver also being present. Claes had been imbibing freely, and Jan Roosebeke was remonstrating with him, saying that it was sin to drink so much. But Claes replied that a pint too much meant nothing more serious than an extra half-day in purgatory.“Besides,” said he, “I have a ten-thousand-year indulgence in my pocket! Is there any one here that would like a hundred years of them, I wonder, so that he may indulge his stomach without fear of the consequences?”Every one shouted at once:“How much are you selling them at?”“For a pint of beer,” Claes answered, “I will give you one hundred days, but for amuske conynyou shall have a hundred and fifty!”Some of the revellers gave Claes a pint of beer, others a piece of ham, and for each and all Claes cut off a little strip of his parchment. It was not Claes, forsooth, who consumed the price of his indulgences, but Lamme Goedzak; and he gorged himself so that he began to swell visibly; and all the time Claes went on distributing his merchandise up and down the tavern.The man Grypstuiver turned a sour face towards him, and asked if he had an indulgence for ten days.“No,” said Claes, “that’s too small a piece to cut.”Every one laughed, and Grypstuiver ate his anger as best he could. Then Claes went home, followed by Lamme, walking as if his legs were made of wool.

XXVNow in those days Katheline had effected a cure, by means of herbs, on three sheep, an ox, and a pig, all belonging to a certain man named Speelman. She also attempted to cure a cow, the property of one Jan Beloen, but in this she was not successful. Jan Beloen promptly accused her of being a witch, asserting that she had laid a charm on the animal, inasmuch as all the time she was giving the herbs she had caressed it and talked to it, in the Devil’s own language, as was evident—for what business has an honest Christian woman to go talking with an animal...?Jan Beloen added that he was a neighbour of Speelman’s, the man whose ox had been cured, together with three sheep and a pig as aforesaid, and if Katheline had now killed his cow, it was doubtless at the instigation of Speelman, who was jealous at seeing his, Beloen’s, land better and more profitably cultivated than his own. Pieter Meulmeester, a man of good life and reputation, and Jan Beloen himself both testified that Katheline was commonly reputed to be a witch by the people of Damme, and that she had certainly killed the cow; and on this testimony Katheline was arrested and condemned to be tortured until she had confessed her crimes and malpractices.She was cross-examined by a certain alderman who was notorious for his ill-temper, for he was accustomed to drink brandy all the day long. And he ordered her to be placed on the seat of torture in the presence of himself and the members of the Town Council.The torturer put her on the seat stark naked, and then shaved off her hair, looking carefully to see that no charm was concealed anywhere about her person. Finding none, he bound her with cords to the seat of torture. And she said:“It shames me to be naked before these men. O Mother Mary, let me die!”The torturer then wrapped some damp cloths round her breast and body and legs, and raising the bench upright he proceeded to pour great quantities of hot water down her throat so that her stomach became all swollen. Then he let the bench down again.The alderman asked Katheline if she would now acknowledge her crime. She made a sign in the negative. And the torturer poured more hot water into her; but this Katheline brought all up again.Then by the advice of the doctor she was released. But she did not speak a word, only beat her breast as much as to say that the hot water had burned her. When the torturer saw that she was recovered from this first ordeal, he said to her:“Confess that you are a witch, and that you laid a charm on the cow.”“I will confess no such thing,” replied Katheline. “I am here in your power. Nevertheless, I tell you that an animal can die of an illness, just as a man can, and in spite of all the help of surgeons and of doctors. And I swear by Our Lord Christ who was pleased to die upon the Cross for our sins, that I wished to do no harm to this cow, but simply to cure her by well-known remedies.”Thereat the alderman was angry and cried out:“This devil’s drab, she cannot go on lying for ever! Put her to the second torture.”Then he drank a large glass of brandy.The torturer meanwhile sat Katheline down on the lid of an oak coffin which was placed on trestles. Now the coffin-lid was pointed like a roof, and the edge of it was as sharp as a sword. A great fire was burning in the fireplace, for it was the month of November. Katheline, seated on the edge of the coffin-lid, had her feet shod in shoes of new leather several sizes too small for her, and then she was placed infront of the fire. When she began to feel the sharp wood of the coffin-lid cutting into her flesh, and when her shoes began to shrink under the heat of the fire, Katheline cried aloud:“Oh, agony! Will no one give me a draught of black poison?”“Put her nearer the fire,” said the alderman.Then he inquired of her:“How often, pray, have you ridden on a broom to the Witches’ Sabbath? And how many times have you caused the corn to wither in the ear, and the fruit on the tree, and the babe in the womb of its mother? And turned most loving brothers into sworn enemies, and sisters into rivals full of hatred?”Katheline would have answered if she had been able. But she could only move her arms, as if to say “No.” But the alderman said:“I see she will not speak till she has felt her witch’s fat all melting in the fire. Put her nearer.”Katheline cried out. But the alderman said:“You had better ask Satan, your friend, to refresh you.”And now her shoes were beginning to smoke in the heat of the fire, so that she made a gesture as if to try and take them off.“Ask Satan to help you,” said the alderman.Ten o’clock struck. It was the madman’s dinner hour. And he retired with the torturer and the clerk of the court, leaving Katheline alone in front of the fire in the place of torture.An hour later they returned. Katheline was still sitting there stiff and motionless. The clerk said:“I think she is dead.”The alderman commanded the torturer to remove Katheline from the coffin-lid, and to take off the shoes from her feet. This he could not do, so that he was forced to cut them,and Katheline’s feet were exposed to view, all red and bleeding. The alderman, whose thoughts were still with his dinner, gazed at her without a word. But after a while she came to her senses, and fell upon the ground, nor was she able to get up again in spite of many attempts. Then she said to the alderman:“Once you desired me for your wife. But now you shall have none of me!Four times three is the sacred number, and my husband is the thirteenth.”The alderman was going to answer her, but she forestalled him:“Be silent. His hearing is more delicate than that of the archangel in heaven who counts the heart-beats of the just. Why are you so late?Four times three is the sacred number.He killeth those who hold me in desire.”The alderman said:“It seems she welcomes the devil to her bed!”“The pains of the torture have turned her brain,” said the clerk.So Katheline was taken back into prison. And three days later there was a meeting of the aldermen in the Council Hall; and after some deliberation Katheline was condemned to suffer the ordeal by fire.She was taken to the grand market of Damme by the torturer and his assistants. There she was made to mount the scaffold. In the square were assembled the provost, the herald, and the judges. The herald sounded his trumpet thrice, then turned towards the crowd and made the following announcement:“The Council of Damme,” he cried, “having taken pity upon the woman Katheline, have decreed that punishment shall not be exacted to the full extremity of the rigour of our laws. Nevertheless, in witness that she is a sorceress, her hair shall be burned, she shall pay a fine of twentycarolus d’or, and she shall be banished from the territory of Damme forthe space of three years, under penalty of losing one of her limbs.”And at this rough gentleness the people broke into applause.Then the torturer tied Katheline to the stake, placed on her shorn scalp a wig of tow, and held it in the fire. And the tow burned for a long time, and Katheline cried aloud and wept.Then they released her, and she was put in a cart and taken away outside the territory of Damme. She could not walk at all, because of her feet that were burned.XXVIUlenspiegel, meanwhile, had arrived in his wanderings at the fish-market at Liége. There he descried a tall young fellow carrying under his arm a net filled with all sorts of poultry, and another net also which he was rapidly filling with haddock, trout, eels, and pike.Ulenspiegel recognized him as none other than his old friend Lamme Goedzak.“What are you doing here, Lamme?” he said.“You must know,” Lamme answered, “that many people have lately emigrated from Flanders to this gentle land of Liége. As for me, I follow my loves. And you?”“I am on the look-out for a master to serve for my daily bread,” said Ulenspiegel.“Bread is a dry sort of nourishment,” said Lamme. “You would do better to try a chaplet of ortolans with a thrush for theCredo.”“You have plenty of money?” Ulenspiegel inquired.Lamme Goedzak made answer:“I have lost my father and mother, and that young sister of mine that used to beat me so. I shall inherit all their property, and now I am living with a one-eyed servant who is very learned in the noble art of making fricassees.”“Would you like me to carry your fish and your poultry for you?” suggested Ulenspiegel.“Yes,” said Lamme.And together they began to wander through the market. All at once Lamme said to his companion:“You are mad. Do you know why?”“No,” said Ulenspiegel.“Because you go carrying fish and poultry in your hand instead of in your stomach.”“You are right, Lamme,” said Ulenspiegel; “but since I have lacked bread, ortolans will not even look at me.”“You shall eat your fill of them,” said Lamme, “and serve me too, if my cook takes a fancy to you.”While they were walking along, Lamme pointed out to Ulenspiegel a beautiful young girl, who was walking through the market. She wore a silk dress and gazed at Lamme with sweet and gentle eyes. An old man, her father, walked just behind, carrying two nets, one filled with fish, the other with game.“See that girl?” said Lamme, pointing at her. “I am going to marry her.”“Oh!” said Ulenspiegel, “I know her. She is a Flemish maid from Zotteghem. She lives in the rue Vinave-d’Isle, and the neighbours say that she lets her mother sweep the road in front of the house in her stead, while her own father irons her underclothing.”To this Lamme made no answer, but exclaimed delightedly:“She looked at me just now!”By this time they were come to Lamme’s lodging, near the Pont-des-Arches. They knocked at the door, and a one-eyed servant opened to them. Ulenspiegel saw that she was old, scraggy, lank, and fierce of aspect.Lamme addressed her asLa Sanginne, and inquired if she would take Ulenspiegel to help in the kitchen.“I will give him a trial,” she said.“Then take him,” said Lamme, “and let him also make trial of the delights of your kitchen.”La Sanginne put three black puddings on the table, a pint of ale, and a large loaf of bread. Ulenspiegel set to with a will, and Lamme began to nibble at one of the puddings.“Know you,” Lamme asked presently, “where it is that our souls abide?”“No, Lamme,” said Ulenspiegel.“In our stomachs,” Lamme told him, “so they can keep them excavated continually, and for ever renew in our bodies the impulse for life. And who are the best companions for a man? I’ll tell you. The best companions for a man are all good and jolly things to eat, and wine from the Meuse to crown all!”“True,” said Ulenspiegel. “A pudding is good company to a solitary soul.”“He’s still hungry,” said Lamme to La Sanginne. “Give him some more.” And the woman served him with a second portion of pudding—white this time.While Ulenspiegel went on eating, Lamme grew thoughtful.“When I die,” said he, “my stomach will die with me, and down there in purgatory they will leave me to fast, and I shall have to carry my poor belly about with me, all empty and limp.”“I like the black ones best,” said Ulenspiegel.“You have eaten six already,” said La Sanginne, “and you won’t have any more.”“You may be sure,” said Lamme, “that you will be well treated here, and you will have just the same to eat as I do.”“I shall remember this promise of yours,” said Ulenspiegel. But seeing that what his friend had told him was the truth, Ulenspiegel was well content, and the puddings that he had swallowed gave him such courage that on that veryday he polished the kettles and the pots and the pans till they shone like the sun. And he lived happily in that house, frequenting willingly the kitchen and the wine-cellar, and leaving the loft to the cats.One day La Sanginne had two poulets to roast, and she asked Ulenspiegel to turn the spit while she went to market for some herbs for a seasoning. The two poulets being well roasted, Ulenspiegel took one of them and ate it. When La Sanginne returned from the market she remarked:“There were two poulets, but now I can only see one.”“Just open your other eye,” answered Ulenspiegel, “and you will see the two of them all right!”But she was angry, and went to Lamme Goedzak to tell him what had happened. Lamme came down into the kitchen and said to Ulenspiegel:“Why do you make fun of my serving-maid? There were certainly two poulets.”“Therewere,” said Ulenspiegel, “but when I came you told me that I was to eat and drink just as much as you. There were two poulets. Very well. I have eaten one, and you will eat the other. My pleasure is over. Yours is still to come. Are you not happier than I?”“Yes,” said Lamme smiling, “but just you do what La Sanginne tells you, and you’ll find your work halved.”“I will be careful to do as you say,” said Ulenspiegel.So every time that La Sanginne told him to do anything he did but the half of it. If she asked him to go and draw two pails of water he would only bring back one; and if she told him to go and fill a pot of ale at the cask, he would pour the half of it down his throat on the way—and so on and so on.At last La Sanginne grew tired of these goings on, and she told Lamme that either this good-for-nothing fellow must leave the house or she must leave herself.Lamme descended on Ulenspiegel and told him:“You’ll have to go, my son, notwithstanding that you have looked so much better in health since you have been here. Listen to that cock crowing. And it’s two o’clock of the afternoon! That means rain. I am sorry to have to put you out of doors in bad weather. But there, my son, you know that La Sanginne is the guardian angel of my life, with her lovely fricassees. If she were to leave me I might die a speedy death. I cannot risk it. Go then, my boy, and God be with you, and here are three florins and this string of saveloys to liven your journey.”And Ulenspiegel departed, crestfallen and with many regrets for Lamme and his kitchen.XXVIIThere was a rumour abroad that the Emperor Charles was going to annul the right of the monks to inherit the estates of those who happened to die in their convents, a thing which was very displeasing to the Pope.One day when Ulenspiegel was come to fish from the banks of the river Meuse, he was thinking to himself that by the above action the Emperor would stand to profit both ways, since he would inherit the said estates, while the family of the deceased would inherit nothing at all. Pondering these thoughts, he carefully baited his hook, and then sat down by the river-side. And he began to nibble at a piece of stale brown bread, regretting the while that he had no good Romagna wine wherewith to wash it down. Still, he thought, one cannot always have everything just as one would like. And all the time he kept on throwing little pieces of his bread into the water, saying to himself that no man deserves a meal who will not share it with his neighbours.Now it was that a gudgeon came upon the scene, attracted in the first place by the odour of bread-crumbs; and he licked up the bread with his lips and opened his mouth for more, thinking no doubt in his innocence that the bread would fallinto his gullet of itself. But while gazing thus in the air the gudgeon was suddenly swallowed up by a treacherous pike who had hurled himself upon him like a flash of lightning.Now the pike played a similar trick upon a carp who was catching flies on the top of the water without any fear of danger. And after this good meal the pike stayed motionless below the surface of the water, disdainful of the smaller fry, who, indeed, were only too glad to swim away from him of their own accord and as fast as ever they could. But while the pike was taking his ease in this manner, a second pike came up; and he was a hungry pike, and his mouth was open wide, for as yet he had not breakfasted. With a bound the new arrival threw himself upon his brother, and a furious combat ensued. They lashed at one another with their fins, the water was red with their blood. The pike that had eaten defended himself but feebly against the assaults of the hungry one; nevertheless, backing a little, he took courage again and threw himself like a bullet against his adversary. The latter awaited this new attack with open jaws, which did not close until more than half of his assailant’s head had disappeared between them. Now they tried to free themselves, but could not because of the hooked teeth of the one that had become embedded in the flesh of the other. And so they battled against each other in despair. Nor did they notice, interlocked as they were, the strong fish-hook at the end of a silken cord, which rose towards them from the depths of the water. In another moment it had embedded itself in the body of the pike that had dined, and the two struggling fish found themselves drawn out of the water and laid together on the grass without the least deference.As he killed them Ulenspiegel said:“Ha ha, my little pikes, I will call you the Pope and the Emperor, that prey ever one upon the other; but I, forsooth, am the Common Man that shall catch you on his hook, in God’s good time, and make an end of your battles!”XXVIIIIn the meantime Nele was taking care of Katheline, who was still out of her mind and who called continually upon Hanske, her ice-cold lover. But sometimes Nele would leave her mother safely guarded in the house of some kindly neighbour, and herself would wander far and wide and all alone, even unto Antwerp, searching ever, among the ships on the river, or along the dusty roads, for Ulenspiegel.And at home, also, in the house of Claes, it was evil days. Claes worked sadly on his land alone, for there was not enough work for two. And Soetkin stayed in the cottage by herself, cooking the beans which formed their daily fare in a hundred different ways, so that she might have something to enliven her husband’s appetite. And she sang and laughed all the time, so that he might not be grieved by seeing her unhappy.One day a man on horseback drew up in front of the cottage. He was dressed all in black, he was very thin, and very sad of countenance.“Is any one within?” he asked.“God bless your sadness,” answered Soetkin, “but am I a phantom, that seeing me here you must yet inquire if there is any one within?”“Where is your father?” asked the horseman.“If my father’s name is Claes, he is over there,” Soetkin told him. “You will find him sowing corn.”The horseman departed in the direction in which she had pointed, and Soetkin also went her way ruefully, for this was the sixth time that she had had to go to the baker’s to buy bread with no money to pay for it.On returning empty-handed to the cottage, Soetkin was amazed to see Claes coming down the road triumphantly seated on the horse of the man in black. He looked very proud of himself, and the man in black walked by his sideholding the horse’s bridle. Hanging at his side, Claes held a leathern bag which appeared to be full of things. Dismounting from the horse, Claes embraced his companion, gave him a playful pat upon the back, and then, shaking the bag, cried out in a loud voice:“Long life to Josse, my brother, the good hermit of Meyborg! May God keep him in joy and fatness, in happiness and health! Our Josse, patron of plenty, and of all abundance, and rich soups!”And so saying he took up the sack and deposited it upon the table. But Soetkin said sadly:“My good man, we shall not eat this day. The baker has refused to give me any bread.”“Bread?” cried Claes, opening the sack and letting a river of golden coins roll out on the table. “Bread? Here is bread and butter, meat, wine, beer! Here are hams, marrow-bones, pasties, ortolans, fatted poulets, castrelins, all just as you might find them in the houses of the rich! Bread indeed! Here are casks of beer and kegs of wine! Mad must be the baker who will refuse to give us bread. Verily we will deal at his shop no more!”“But, my good man!” said Soetkin amazed.“Nay, listen,” said Claes, “and make the most of your good fortune. For these are the facts. Katheline, it seems, has lately been to Meyborg in Germany, and Nele with her, on a visit to my eldest brother Josse, who dwells there as a hermit. Nele told my brother how that we were living in poverty, notwithstanding that we work so hard. And now, if we are to believe this good messenger”—and here Claes pointed to the black horseman—“Josse has left the holy Roman religion and abandoned himself to the heresy of Luther.”The man in black made answer:“It is they that are heretics, they who follow the cult of the Scarlet Woman. For the Pope is a cheat and a trader in holy things.”“Oh!” cried Soetkin, “speak not so loud, sir. You will have us burned alive, all three.”“Well,” continued Claes, “it appears that Josse has made known to this good messenger that inasmuch as he is going to fight in the army of Frederic of Saxony, and is bringing him fifty armed men fully equipped, he has no need of much money to leave it to the hands of some wretch of a landsknecht, now that he himself is going to the war. Therefore, says he, take it to my brother Claes, and render to him, with my blessing, these seven hundred florins. Tell him to live virtuously, and to ponder the salvation of his soul.”“Yea, verily,” said the horseman, “now is the time. For God will reward every man according to his works, and every man according to his merit.”“Good sir,” said Claes, “it is not forbidden, I trust, to rejoice in the meantime at this good news? Deign, then, to stay with us, and we will celebrate our fortune with a nice dinner of tripe, well boiled, and a knuckle of that ham which I saw just now at the pork-butcher’s. Of a truth, it looked so plump and tasty that my teeth almost shot out of my mouth to close thereon.”“Alas!” said the stranger, “the foolish make merry while the eye of the Lord is yet upon them.”“Come now, messenger,” said Claes, “will you eat and drink with us or will you not?”The man answered: “It will be time enough for the faithful to think about such earthly joys when mighty Babylon has fallen.”Seeing Claes and Soetkin cross themselves, he made as though to leave them. But Claes said to him:“Since you persist in leaving us without accepting of our hospitality, will you at least give to my brother the kiss of peace on my behalf, and look after him well at the wars.”“That will I,” said the man.And he departed from them, while Soetkin went to make her preparations for celebrating their good fortune.Now it was quickly noised abroad through the town that Claes that was once so poor had now become rich through the generosity of his brother Josse. And the Dean of Damme was heard to say that it was Katheline no doubt who had laid a charm on Josse, and he said this because Claes, although he had received a large sum of money from his brother, had given not so much as a single vestment to Notre Dame. But Claes and Soetkin were happy again, Claes working in the fields or looking after his business of charcoal-burning, while Soetkin attended to her home right valiantly. Yet still was she sorrowful at heart, scanning ever with her eyes the open road if perchance she might see her son Ulenspiegel returning back to her. And thus it was these three lived on and experienced the happiness which comes from God while waiting for that which was going to come to them from men.XXIXThe Emperor Charles had received a letter from England, from Philip, who was now married to the Queen of that country.“Sir and Father,” the letter ran,—“It is matter of sore displeasure to me that I should have to live in a country like this where the accursed heretics swarm like fleas and worms and locusts. Fire and sword are needed to remove them from the trunk of that tree of life which is our Holy Mother the Church. And, as if this were not trouble enough, I have also to put up with being regarded not as a King but merely as the husband of the Queen; for in very truth apart from her I am destitute of all authority. And the English make mock of me, spreading broadcast the most shameful pamphlets which assert that I am being bribed by the Pope to afflict their country with every kind of impious burning and persecution.Nor can I discover who it is that writes these pamphlets, nor yet who prints them. And when I try to raise from the people some necessary contribution (for in their malice and wickedness they often leave me without any money at all), they answer by advising me, in coarse lampoons, to ask of Satan in whose pay I am. Parliament makes excuses for fear of my sting, but I can get nothing out of them. And meanwhile the walls of London are covered with the grossest pictures representing me as a parricide who is ready to strike down your Majesty for the sake of my inheritance. But well you know, my Lord and Father, that notwithstanding all the hopes of a legitimate ambition, I most certainly desire that your Majesty may enjoy yet long and glorious years of rule. Furthermore, there are circulating through the city certain engravings on copper which show me torturing animals and laughing the while. But well you know, Sire, that if ever it has happened to me to taste this profane pleasure, I have surely never laughed thereat. But they try to make out that this innocent sport is a sort of crime, despite the fact that animals have no souls, and although it is assuredly permitted to all men, especially if they be of Royal birth, to make use of brute beasts even unto death for purposes of honest recreation. But in this land of England the people are so fond of animals that they treat their animals better than their own servants. The stables and dog-kennels are kept like palaces, and I have known great lords who pass the night on the same litter with their horse. To crown all, my noble Wife and Queen is barren, and these people have the outrageous effrontery to declare that I am to blame and not she, who is in other respects a most jealous and intractable woman, and amorous to excess. Sir and Father, I pray daily that the Lord God may have me in his grace, and I live in hopes that another throne may be given me, even though it be with the Turk, what time I still await that other gloriousthrone to which I shall be one day called by the honour of being the son of your very Glorious and Victorious Majesty.(Signed)Phle.”To this letter the Emperor made reply in the following terms:“Sir and Son,—You have bitter enemies, I do not dispute it; but you must try to endure them without vexation in anticipation of the yet more brilliant crown that shall be yours hereafter. I have already made it widely known that I am determined to retire from my lordship over the Low Countries and other of my dominions, for I am growing old and gouty, and I know that I shall not long be able to withstand King Henry the Second of France, for Fortune ever favours the young. You should remember also that so long as you are master of England, you will be as a thorn in the side of our enemy France. Truly I suffered a nasty defeat at Metz, and lost there near forty thousand men. I was compelled to retreat before the King of Saxony. If God does not soon see fit by a stroke of His good and divine will to re-establish me in the force and vigour of my prime, I am inclined, Sir and Son, to quit my kingdoms altogether and to leave them to you.“Have patience therefore, and do your duty meanwhile against the heretics, sparing none of them, man, woman, girl, or child, for I am credibly informed that Madame your Queen has been minded to treat them mercifully, and this is a great grief to me.“Your affectionate father,“(Signed)Charles.”XXXUlenspiegel had been long upon the road. His feet were bleeding, but in the district of the bishopric of Mayence hemet a wagon full of pilgrims who invited him to join them, and they carried him with them to Rome.When they arrived at the city Ulenspiegel got down from the wagon, and straightway noticed a charming-looking woman standing at the door of an inn. She smiled when she saw him looking at her.Taking this kindly humour of hers for a good omen:“Hostess,” says he, “will you give asile, pray, to a poor pilgrim on pilgrimage who has carried his full time and is about to be delivered of his sins?”“We give asile to all such as pay us for it,” said the woman.I have a hundred ducats in my purse,” said Ulenspiegel (who, in fact, had no more than one), “and I would dearly like to spend the first of them in your pleasant company and over a bottle of old Roman wine.”“Wine is not dear in these holy parts,” she answered. “Come in and drink your fill. It will only cost you asoldo.”And they twain drank together for so long, and emptied so many bottles of wine and all to the tune of such pleasant conversation, that the hostess was constrained to order her servant to serve the customers in her place, while she and Ulenspiegel retired into a room at the back of the inn, a marble chamber, cool as a winter’s day, where, leaning her head on her new friend’s shoulder, she demanded of him who he might be.And Ulenspiegel answered her:“I am Lord of Geeland, Count of Gavergeëten, Baron of Tuchtendeel. I was born at Damme, in Flanders, and I hold there for my estate five and twenty acres of moonlight.”“What land is that whence you come?” the hostess asked him, drinking from Ulenspiegel’s tankard.“It is a misty land,” he told her, “a land of illusion, where are sown the seeds of false hopes and of castles in theair. But you, sweet hostess mine, were born in no such land of moonlight, you with your amber skin and your eyes that shine like pearls. For bright is the sunshine that has coloured that browned gold of your hair, and it is Lady Venus herself who, without a single pang of jealousy, has formed your soft shoulders, and your prancing breasts, your rounded arms, your delicate sweet hands. Say, shall we sup together this night?”“Fine pilgrim that you are from Flanders,” says she, “say, why are you come hither?”“To have a talk with the Pope,” said Ulenspiegel.“Heavens!” she cried, clasping her hands together, “and that is something that even myself, a native of the country, have never been able to do!”“Yet shall I,” said Ulenspiegel.“But know you where the Pope lives, what he is like, what are his habits and his ways of life?”“I heard all about him on the way,” answered Ulenspiegel. “His name is Julius III. Wanton he is, and gay and dissolute, a good talker, that never falters for a clever repartee. I have also heard that he has taken an extraordinary fancy to a little dirty beggar of a man—a dark fellow and a rude who used to wander about with a monkey asking for alms. He came to the Pope, and the Pope, it seems, has made a Cardinal of him, and now gets quite ill if a single day passes without their meeting.”“Have some more to drink,” said the landlady, “and do not speak so loud.”“I have also heard,” continued Ulenspiegel, “that one day he swore like a soldier,Al dispetto di Dio, potta di Dio, and all because they did not bring him the cold peacock that he had ordered to be kept for his supper. And he excused himself, saying, ‘If my Master was angered over an apple, I, who am the vicar of God, can certainly swear an oath about a pheasant!’ You see, my pet, I know the Pope very well, and understand just what sort of a man he is!”“Oh dear,” she said, “pray be careful and do not tell this to any one else. But still, and in spite of all you tell me, I maintain that you will not get to see him.”“I shall,” said Ulenspiegel.“I will wager you a hundred florins.”“They are mine!” said Ulenspiegel.The very next day, tired as he was, he ran through all the city and found out that the Pope was to say Mass that morning at the Church of St. John Lateran. Thither Ulenspiegel repaired, and took up a position as prominently in the Pope’s view as he could. And every time that the Pope elevated chalice or Host, Ulenspiegel turned his back to the altar. Now one of the cardinals was officiating with the Pope, swarthy of countenance he was, malicious and corpulent; and on his shoulder he carried a monkey. He reported Ulenspiegel’s behaviour to the Pope, who straightway after Mass sent four terrible-looking soldiers (such as one finds in those warlike lands) to seize the pilgrim.“What religion do you profess?” the Pope asked him.“Most Holy Father,” answered Ulenspiegel, “my religion is the same as my landlady’s.”The Pope had the woman fetched.“What is your religion?” he asked her.“The same as your Holiness’s,” she told him.“That also is mine,” said Ulenspiegel.The Pope asked him why he turned his back upon the Holy Sacrament.“I felt myself unworthy to look upon it face to face,” he answered.“You are a pilgrim?” said the Pope.“Yes,” answered Ulenspiegel, “and I am come from Flanders to beg remission of my sins.”The Pope absolved and blessed him, and Ulenspiegel departed in the company of his landlady, who paid over to him his hundred florins. And with this good store of moneyhe departed from Rome and set out to return again to the land of Flanders.But he had to pay seven ducats for the certificate of his pardon, all scribed upon parchment.XXXIIn those days there came to Damme two brothers of the Premonstratensian Order, sellers of indulgences. And over their monastic robes they wore beautiful jackets bordered with lace.When it was fine they stood outside the porch of the church, and under the porch when it was wet, and there they stuck up their tariff; and this was the scale of charges: for sixliardsa hundred years’ indulgence, for onepatardtwo hundred years, three hundred years for half a sovereign, four hundred years for seven florins, and so on according to the price—indulgences plenary or semi-plenary, and pardons for all the most terrible crimes.And they gave to their patrons, in exchange for payment, little parchment certificates on which were written out the number of years of indulgence, and below was the following inscription:Who wants not to beStewed, roasted, fricasseed,Burning in hell for evermore,Indulgences let him buy.Pardon and forgiveness,For a little money,God will return to him.And the eager purchasers came thronging round the monks. One of whom never left off addressing his audience. This brother had a blooming countenance, and displayed three chins at least, and a portentous belly, all without the least embarrassment.The Monk’s SermonThe Monk’s Sermon“Unhappy ones!” he cried, fixing with his eye now one, now another of the crowd. “Unhappy ones! Let me show you a picture. Behold! You are in hell! The fire burns you most cruelly. You are boiling in that cauldron full of oil wherein are prepared theolie-koekjesof Astarte. You are nothing better than a sausage on the frying-pan of Lucifer, or a leg of mutton on the spit of Guilguiroth, biggest of all the devils. And first they cut you up in little pieces. Ah, woe is me! Behold this sinner who despised indulgences! Behold this plate of daintiness! ’Tis he! ’Tis he! His wicked body thus reduced by damnation. And for sauce, brimstone and pitch and tar! Thus are those poor sinners eaten alive to be born again continually to their pain! And here in all reality is the place of tears and of grinding of teeth. Have mercy, God of mercy! For now, poor damned one, you are in hell, and you suffer unspeakable woes. And yet if any there were to subscribe adenierfor you, straightway one of your hands would find relief; and let but some other give a half adenierand your two hands would be freed entirely from the pain of the fire. But as for the remainder of your body, let some one only give a florin, and there falls the dew of indulgence over all! O freshness of delight! And now for ten days, a hundred days, a thousand years maybe, according as one pays, no more roast meat, no moreolie-koekjes, no more fricassees for you! And even if it is not for yourself, is there no one else, there in the secret depths of the fire, no one else for whom you would wish to gain relief—one of your parents perhaps, a dear wife, or some lovely girl with whom you have committed wilful sin?”And as he spoke these words, the monk jogged the elbow of his brother that stood by holding in his hands a silver bowl. And that brother, lowering his eyes at this signal, shook the bowl unctuously, as if inviting contributions.Whereat the preacher continued in this wise: “Or perhaps you have a son or a daughter, maybe, in the midstof this terrible fire, or some beloved little child? Hark, how they cry aloud, and weep, and call to you by name. Can you remain deaf to their pitiful voices? You cannot. Even a heart of ice must melt, though it cost you a carolus! And behold, at the very sound of the carolus as it strikes this vile metal” (and here his comrade shook the plate again), “a space opens out in the midst of the fire, and the tormented soul ascends to some volcano mouth where it meets the air, the fresh, free air! Where are the pains of the fire now? For the sea is close at hand, and straight into the sea the soul plunges. She swims on her back, on her stomach, floats upon the waves, dives beneath them. Oh, listen how she sings aloud in her joy! See how she rolls about in the water! The very angels gaze down upon her from heaven and are glad. Eagerly they await her coming; but not yet, not yet has she had her fill of the sea. If she might only turn into a fish! She knoweth not how there are prepared for her up aloft sweet baths, perfumed and scented, with fine bits of sugar-candy floating therein, all white and fresh like bits of ice. Now a shark appears. She fears it not at all, but clambers upon its back, and sits there all unnoticed, hoping he will take her with him down into the depths of the sea. And now she goes to greet the little water-angels that feed on waterzoey from coral cauldrons, and on freshest oysters from plates of mother-of-pearl. And she is welcomed and fêted and made much of, but still the angels in heaven beckon her on high, till at last, refreshed and happy, you may see her rise aloft, singing like a lark, up to the highest heaven where God sits in glory on his throne. There she finds again all her earthly friends and loved ones (save only those, forsooth, that in this life have spoken ill of indulgences and of our Holy Mother Church and who burn now for their sin upon the floor of hell. And so for ever and for ever and for ever to all ages, in an all-consuming eternity). But that other soul, now dear to God, refreshes herself in soft baths and crunches sugar-candy.Buy then, my brothers, buy your indulgences. We sell them forcrusats, for florins, or for English sovereigns. Even copper coin is not refused. Buy then, buy! This is the Holy Mart! And we have indulgences adapted to the poor man’s purse as well as to the rich man’s. Only, I am sorry to say, my brothers, no credit is allowed. For to buy without paying cash is a crime most grievous in the eyes of Our Lord.”Hereupon the monk who had kept silent shook his platter, and the florins,crusats,patards,sols, anddeniersfell into it as thick as hail.Claes, feeling himself rich, paid a florin for an indulgence of ten thousand years; and the monks delivered to him a piece of parchment in exchange.At last, seeing that there was no one left in Damme but the miserly folk who would not buy indulgences at any price, the two monks left the village and proceeded on their way to Heyst.XXXIIIn those days the country round Liége was in a disturbed and dangerous state by reason of the heresy hunts, and Lamme Goedzak came again to live in Damme. He was married now, and his wife followed him willingly because the people of Liége, who had a mocking nature, used to make fun of her husband’s meekness.Lamme often visited Claes, who, since coming into his fortune, was always to be found at the tavern of theBlauwe Torre, and had even appropriated one of the tables for himself and his boon companions. This table was next to the one where sat the Dean of the Fishmongers, Josse Grypstuiver by name, drinking sparingly from his half-pint tankard. For he was a miser, a stingy fellow who thought the world of himself, and lived for the most part on smoked herrings, and thought more of money than of the safety of his own soul. Now Claes carried in his pocket that piece of parchmentwhereon was inscribed the tale of his ten-thousand-year indulgence.One evening Claes was drinking at theBlauwe Torrein the company of Lamme Goedzak, Jan van Roosebeke, and Matthys van Assche, Josse Grypstuiver also being present. Claes had been imbibing freely, and Jan Roosebeke was remonstrating with him, saying that it was sin to drink so much. But Claes replied that a pint too much meant nothing more serious than an extra half-day in purgatory.“Besides,” said he, “I have a ten-thousand-year indulgence in my pocket! Is there any one here that would like a hundred years of them, I wonder, so that he may indulge his stomach without fear of the consequences?”Every one shouted at once:“How much are you selling them at?”“For a pint of beer,” Claes answered, “I will give you one hundred days, but for amuske conynyou shall have a hundred and fifty!”Some of the revellers gave Claes a pint of beer, others a piece of ham, and for each and all Claes cut off a little strip of his parchment. It was not Claes, forsooth, who consumed the price of his indulgences, but Lamme Goedzak; and he gorged himself so that he began to swell visibly; and all the time Claes went on distributing his merchandise up and down the tavern.The man Grypstuiver turned a sour face towards him, and asked if he had an indulgence for ten days.“No,” said Claes, “that’s too small a piece to cut.”Every one laughed, and Grypstuiver ate his anger as best he could. Then Claes went home, followed by Lamme, walking as if his legs were made of wool.

XXVNow in those days Katheline had effected a cure, by means of herbs, on three sheep, an ox, and a pig, all belonging to a certain man named Speelman. She also attempted to cure a cow, the property of one Jan Beloen, but in this she was not successful. Jan Beloen promptly accused her of being a witch, asserting that she had laid a charm on the animal, inasmuch as all the time she was giving the herbs she had caressed it and talked to it, in the Devil’s own language, as was evident—for what business has an honest Christian woman to go talking with an animal...?Jan Beloen added that he was a neighbour of Speelman’s, the man whose ox had been cured, together with three sheep and a pig as aforesaid, and if Katheline had now killed his cow, it was doubtless at the instigation of Speelman, who was jealous at seeing his, Beloen’s, land better and more profitably cultivated than his own. Pieter Meulmeester, a man of good life and reputation, and Jan Beloen himself both testified that Katheline was commonly reputed to be a witch by the people of Damme, and that she had certainly killed the cow; and on this testimony Katheline was arrested and condemned to be tortured until she had confessed her crimes and malpractices.She was cross-examined by a certain alderman who was notorious for his ill-temper, for he was accustomed to drink brandy all the day long. And he ordered her to be placed on the seat of torture in the presence of himself and the members of the Town Council.The torturer put her on the seat stark naked, and then shaved off her hair, looking carefully to see that no charm was concealed anywhere about her person. Finding none, he bound her with cords to the seat of torture. And she said:“It shames me to be naked before these men. O Mother Mary, let me die!”The torturer then wrapped some damp cloths round her breast and body and legs, and raising the bench upright he proceeded to pour great quantities of hot water down her throat so that her stomach became all swollen. Then he let the bench down again.The alderman asked Katheline if she would now acknowledge her crime. She made a sign in the negative. And the torturer poured more hot water into her; but this Katheline brought all up again.Then by the advice of the doctor she was released. But she did not speak a word, only beat her breast as much as to say that the hot water had burned her. When the torturer saw that she was recovered from this first ordeal, he said to her:“Confess that you are a witch, and that you laid a charm on the cow.”“I will confess no such thing,” replied Katheline. “I am here in your power. Nevertheless, I tell you that an animal can die of an illness, just as a man can, and in spite of all the help of surgeons and of doctors. And I swear by Our Lord Christ who was pleased to die upon the Cross for our sins, that I wished to do no harm to this cow, but simply to cure her by well-known remedies.”Thereat the alderman was angry and cried out:“This devil’s drab, she cannot go on lying for ever! Put her to the second torture.”Then he drank a large glass of brandy.The torturer meanwhile sat Katheline down on the lid of an oak coffin which was placed on trestles. Now the coffin-lid was pointed like a roof, and the edge of it was as sharp as a sword. A great fire was burning in the fireplace, for it was the month of November. Katheline, seated on the edge of the coffin-lid, had her feet shod in shoes of new leather several sizes too small for her, and then she was placed infront of the fire. When she began to feel the sharp wood of the coffin-lid cutting into her flesh, and when her shoes began to shrink under the heat of the fire, Katheline cried aloud:“Oh, agony! Will no one give me a draught of black poison?”“Put her nearer the fire,” said the alderman.Then he inquired of her:“How often, pray, have you ridden on a broom to the Witches’ Sabbath? And how many times have you caused the corn to wither in the ear, and the fruit on the tree, and the babe in the womb of its mother? And turned most loving brothers into sworn enemies, and sisters into rivals full of hatred?”Katheline would have answered if she had been able. But she could only move her arms, as if to say “No.” But the alderman said:“I see she will not speak till she has felt her witch’s fat all melting in the fire. Put her nearer.”Katheline cried out. But the alderman said:“You had better ask Satan, your friend, to refresh you.”And now her shoes were beginning to smoke in the heat of the fire, so that she made a gesture as if to try and take them off.“Ask Satan to help you,” said the alderman.Ten o’clock struck. It was the madman’s dinner hour. And he retired with the torturer and the clerk of the court, leaving Katheline alone in front of the fire in the place of torture.An hour later they returned. Katheline was still sitting there stiff and motionless. The clerk said:“I think she is dead.”The alderman commanded the torturer to remove Katheline from the coffin-lid, and to take off the shoes from her feet. This he could not do, so that he was forced to cut them,and Katheline’s feet were exposed to view, all red and bleeding. The alderman, whose thoughts were still with his dinner, gazed at her without a word. But after a while she came to her senses, and fell upon the ground, nor was she able to get up again in spite of many attempts. Then she said to the alderman:“Once you desired me for your wife. But now you shall have none of me!Four times three is the sacred number, and my husband is the thirteenth.”The alderman was going to answer her, but she forestalled him:“Be silent. His hearing is more delicate than that of the archangel in heaven who counts the heart-beats of the just. Why are you so late?Four times three is the sacred number.He killeth those who hold me in desire.”The alderman said:“It seems she welcomes the devil to her bed!”“The pains of the torture have turned her brain,” said the clerk.So Katheline was taken back into prison. And three days later there was a meeting of the aldermen in the Council Hall; and after some deliberation Katheline was condemned to suffer the ordeal by fire.She was taken to the grand market of Damme by the torturer and his assistants. There she was made to mount the scaffold. In the square were assembled the provost, the herald, and the judges. The herald sounded his trumpet thrice, then turned towards the crowd and made the following announcement:“The Council of Damme,” he cried, “having taken pity upon the woman Katheline, have decreed that punishment shall not be exacted to the full extremity of the rigour of our laws. Nevertheless, in witness that she is a sorceress, her hair shall be burned, she shall pay a fine of twentycarolus d’or, and she shall be banished from the territory of Damme forthe space of three years, under penalty of losing one of her limbs.”And at this rough gentleness the people broke into applause.Then the torturer tied Katheline to the stake, placed on her shorn scalp a wig of tow, and held it in the fire. And the tow burned for a long time, and Katheline cried aloud and wept.Then they released her, and she was put in a cart and taken away outside the territory of Damme. She could not walk at all, because of her feet that were burned.XXVIUlenspiegel, meanwhile, had arrived in his wanderings at the fish-market at Liége. There he descried a tall young fellow carrying under his arm a net filled with all sorts of poultry, and another net also which he was rapidly filling with haddock, trout, eels, and pike.Ulenspiegel recognized him as none other than his old friend Lamme Goedzak.“What are you doing here, Lamme?” he said.“You must know,” Lamme answered, “that many people have lately emigrated from Flanders to this gentle land of Liége. As for me, I follow my loves. And you?”“I am on the look-out for a master to serve for my daily bread,” said Ulenspiegel.“Bread is a dry sort of nourishment,” said Lamme. “You would do better to try a chaplet of ortolans with a thrush for theCredo.”“You have plenty of money?” Ulenspiegel inquired.Lamme Goedzak made answer:“I have lost my father and mother, and that young sister of mine that used to beat me so. I shall inherit all their property, and now I am living with a one-eyed servant who is very learned in the noble art of making fricassees.”“Would you like me to carry your fish and your poultry for you?” suggested Ulenspiegel.“Yes,” said Lamme.And together they began to wander through the market. All at once Lamme said to his companion:“You are mad. Do you know why?”“No,” said Ulenspiegel.“Because you go carrying fish and poultry in your hand instead of in your stomach.”“You are right, Lamme,” said Ulenspiegel; “but since I have lacked bread, ortolans will not even look at me.”“You shall eat your fill of them,” said Lamme, “and serve me too, if my cook takes a fancy to you.”While they were walking along, Lamme pointed out to Ulenspiegel a beautiful young girl, who was walking through the market. She wore a silk dress and gazed at Lamme with sweet and gentle eyes. An old man, her father, walked just behind, carrying two nets, one filled with fish, the other with game.“See that girl?” said Lamme, pointing at her. “I am going to marry her.”“Oh!” said Ulenspiegel, “I know her. She is a Flemish maid from Zotteghem. She lives in the rue Vinave-d’Isle, and the neighbours say that she lets her mother sweep the road in front of the house in her stead, while her own father irons her underclothing.”To this Lamme made no answer, but exclaimed delightedly:“She looked at me just now!”By this time they were come to Lamme’s lodging, near the Pont-des-Arches. They knocked at the door, and a one-eyed servant opened to them. Ulenspiegel saw that she was old, scraggy, lank, and fierce of aspect.Lamme addressed her asLa Sanginne, and inquired if she would take Ulenspiegel to help in the kitchen.“I will give him a trial,” she said.“Then take him,” said Lamme, “and let him also make trial of the delights of your kitchen.”La Sanginne put three black puddings on the table, a pint of ale, and a large loaf of bread. Ulenspiegel set to with a will, and Lamme began to nibble at one of the puddings.“Know you,” Lamme asked presently, “where it is that our souls abide?”“No, Lamme,” said Ulenspiegel.“In our stomachs,” Lamme told him, “so they can keep them excavated continually, and for ever renew in our bodies the impulse for life. And who are the best companions for a man? I’ll tell you. The best companions for a man are all good and jolly things to eat, and wine from the Meuse to crown all!”“True,” said Ulenspiegel. “A pudding is good company to a solitary soul.”“He’s still hungry,” said Lamme to La Sanginne. “Give him some more.” And the woman served him with a second portion of pudding—white this time.While Ulenspiegel went on eating, Lamme grew thoughtful.“When I die,” said he, “my stomach will die with me, and down there in purgatory they will leave me to fast, and I shall have to carry my poor belly about with me, all empty and limp.”“I like the black ones best,” said Ulenspiegel.“You have eaten six already,” said La Sanginne, “and you won’t have any more.”“You may be sure,” said Lamme, “that you will be well treated here, and you will have just the same to eat as I do.”“I shall remember this promise of yours,” said Ulenspiegel. But seeing that what his friend had told him was the truth, Ulenspiegel was well content, and the puddings that he had swallowed gave him such courage that on that veryday he polished the kettles and the pots and the pans till they shone like the sun. And he lived happily in that house, frequenting willingly the kitchen and the wine-cellar, and leaving the loft to the cats.One day La Sanginne had two poulets to roast, and she asked Ulenspiegel to turn the spit while she went to market for some herbs for a seasoning. The two poulets being well roasted, Ulenspiegel took one of them and ate it. When La Sanginne returned from the market she remarked:“There were two poulets, but now I can only see one.”“Just open your other eye,” answered Ulenspiegel, “and you will see the two of them all right!”But she was angry, and went to Lamme Goedzak to tell him what had happened. Lamme came down into the kitchen and said to Ulenspiegel:“Why do you make fun of my serving-maid? There were certainly two poulets.”“Therewere,” said Ulenspiegel, “but when I came you told me that I was to eat and drink just as much as you. There were two poulets. Very well. I have eaten one, and you will eat the other. My pleasure is over. Yours is still to come. Are you not happier than I?”“Yes,” said Lamme smiling, “but just you do what La Sanginne tells you, and you’ll find your work halved.”“I will be careful to do as you say,” said Ulenspiegel.So every time that La Sanginne told him to do anything he did but the half of it. If she asked him to go and draw two pails of water he would only bring back one; and if she told him to go and fill a pot of ale at the cask, he would pour the half of it down his throat on the way—and so on and so on.At last La Sanginne grew tired of these goings on, and she told Lamme that either this good-for-nothing fellow must leave the house or she must leave herself.Lamme descended on Ulenspiegel and told him:“You’ll have to go, my son, notwithstanding that you have looked so much better in health since you have been here. Listen to that cock crowing. And it’s two o’clock of the afternoon! That means rain. I am sorry to have to put you out of doors in bad weather. But there, my son, you know that La Sanginne is the guardian angel of my life, with her lovely fricassees. If she were to leave me I might die a speedy death. I cannot risk it. Go then, my boy, and God be with you, and here are three florins and this string of saveloys to liven your journey.”And Ulenspiegel departed, crestfallen and with many regrets for Lamme and his kitchen.XXVIIThere was a rumour abroad that the Emperor Charles was going to annul the right of the monks to inherit the estates of those who happened to die in their convents, a thing which was very displeasing to the Pope.One day when Ulenspiegel was come to fish from the banks of the river Meuse, he was thinking to himself that by the above action the Emperor would stand to profit both ways, since he would inherit the said estates, while the family of the deceased would inherit nothing at all. Pondering these thoughts, he carefully baited his hook, and then sat down by the river-side. And he began to nibble at a piece of stale brown bread, regretting the while that he had no good Romagna wine wherewith to wash it down. Still, he thought, one cannot always have everything just as one would like. And all the time he kept on throwing little pieces of his bread into the water, saying to himself that no man deserves a meal who will not share it with his neighbours.Now it was that a gudgeon came upon the scene, attracted in the first place by the odour of bread-crumbs; and he licked up the bread with his lips and opened his mouth for more, thinking no doubt in his innocence that the bread would fallinto his gullet of itself. But while gazing thus in the air the gudgeon was suddenly swallowed up by a treacherous pike who had hurled himself upon him like a flash of lightning.Now the pike played a similar trick upon a carp who was catching flies on the top of the water without any fear of danger. And after this good meal the pike stayed motionless below the surface of the water, disdainful of the smaller fry, who, indeed, were only too glad to swim away from him of their own accord and as fast as ever they could. But while the pike was taking his ease in this manner, a second pike came up; and he was a hungry pike, and his mouth was open wide, for as yet he had not breakfasted. With a bound the new arrival threw himself upon his brother, and a furious combat ensued. They lashed at one another with their fins, the water was red with their blood. The pike that had eaten defended himself but feebly against the assaults of the hungry one; nevertheless, backing a little, he took courage again and threw himself like a bullet against his adversary. The latter awaited this new attack with open jaws, which did not close until more than half of his assailant’s head had disappeared between them. Now they tried to free themselves, but could not because of the hooked teeth of the one that had become embedded in the flesh of the other. And so they battled against each other in despair. Nor did they notice, interlocked as they were, the strong fish-hook at the end of a silken cord, which rose towards them from the depths of the water. In another moment it had embedded itself in the body of the pike that had dined, and the two struggling fish found themselves drawn out of the water and laid together on the grass without the least deference.As he killed them Ulenspiegel said:“Ha ha, my little pikes, I will call you the Pope and the Emperor, that prey ever one upon the other; but I, forsooth, am the Common Man that shall catch you on his hook, in God’s good time, and make an end of your battles!”XXVIIIIn the meantime Nele was taking care of Katheline, who was still out of her mind and who called continually upon Hanske, her ice-cold lover. But sometimes Nele would leave her mother safely guarded in the house of some kindly neighbour, and herself would wander far and wide and all alone, even unto Antwerp, searching ever, among the ships on the river, or along the dusty roads, for Ulenspiegel.And at home, also, in the house of Claes, it was evil days. Claes worked sadly on his land alone, for there was not enough work for two. And Soetkin stayed in the cottage by herself, cooking the beans which formed their daily fare in a hundred different ways, so that she might have something to enliven her husband’s appetite. And she sang and laughed all the time, so that he might not be grieved by seeing her unhappy.One day a man on horseback drew up in front of the cottage. He was dressed all in black, he was very thin, and very sad of countenance.“Is any one within?” he asked.“God bless your sadness,” answered Soetkin, “but am I a phantom, that seeing me here you must yet inquire if there is any one within?”“Where is your father?” asked the horseman.“If my father’s name is Claes, he is over there,” Soetkin told him. “You will find him sowing corn.”The horseman departed in the direction in which she had pointed, and Soetkin also went her way ruefully, for this was the sixth time that she had had to go to the baker’s to buy bread with no money to pay for it.On returning empty-handed to the cottage, Soetkin was amazed to see Claes coming down the road triumphantly seated on the horse of the man in black. He looked very proud of himself, and the man in black walked by his sideholding the horse’s bridle. Hanging at his side, Claes held a leathern bag which appeared to be full of things. Dismounting from the horse, Claes embraced his companion, gave him a playful pat upon the back, and then, shaking the bag, cried out in a loud voice:“Long life to Josse, my brother, the good hermit of Meyborg! May God keep him in joy and fatness, in happiness and health! Our Josse, patron of plenty, and of all abundance, and rich soups!”And so saying he took up the sack and deposited it upon the table. But Soetkin said sadly:“My good man, we shall not eat this day. The baker has refused to give me any bread.”“Bread?” cried Claes, opening the sack and letting a river of golden coins roll out on the table. “Bread? Here is bread and butter, meat, wine, beer! Here are hams, marrow-bones, pasties, ortolans, fatted poulets, castrelins, all just as you might find them in the houses of the rich! Bread indeed! Here are casks of beer and kegs of wine! Mad must be the baker who will refuse to give us bread. Verily we will deal at his shop no more!”“But, my good man!” said Soetkin amazed.“Nay, listen,” said Claes, “and make the most of your good fortune. For these are the facts. Katheline, it seems, has lately been to Meyborg in Germany, and Nele with her, on a visit to my eldest brother Josse, who dwells there as a hermit. Nele told my brother how that we were living in poverty, notwithstanding that we work so hard. And now, if we are to believe this good messenger”—and here Claes pointed to the black horseman—“Josse has left the holy Roman religion and abandoned himself to the heresy of Luther.”The man in black made answer:“It is they that are heretics, they who follow the cult of the Scarlet Woman. For the Pope is a cheat and a trader in holy things.”“Oh!” cried Soetkin, “speak not so loud, sir. You will have us burned alive, all three.”“Well,” continued Claes, “it appears that Josse has made known to this good messenger that inasmuch as he is going to fight in the army of Frederic of Saxony, and is bringing him fifty armed men fully equipped, he has no need of much money to leave it to the hands of some wretch of a landsknecht, now that he himself is going to the war. Therefore, says he, take it to my brother Claes, and render to him, with my blessing, these seven hundred florins. Tell him to live virtuously, and to ponder the salvation of his soul.”“Yea, verily,” said the horseman, “now is the time. For God will reward every man according to his works, and every man according to his merit.”“Good sir,” said Claes, “it is not forbidden, I trust, to rejoice in the meantime at this good news? Deign, then, to stay with us, and we will celebrate our fortune with a nice dinner of tripe, well boiled, and a knuckle of that ham which I saw just now at the pork-butcher’s. Of a truth, it looked so plump and tasty that my teeth almost shot out of my mouth to close thereon.”“Alas!” said the stranger, “the foolish make merry while the eye of the Lord is yet upon them.”“Come now, messenger,” said Claes, “will you eat and drink with us or will you not?”The man answered: “It will be time enough for the faithful to think about such earthly joys when mighty Babylon has fallen.”Seeing Claes and Soetkin cross themselves, he made as though to leave them. But Claes said to him:“Since you persist in leaving us without accepting of our hospitality, will you at least give to my brother the kiss of peace on my behalf, and look after him well at the wars.”“That will I,” said the man.And he departed from them, while Soetkin went to make her preparations for celebrating their good fortune.Now it was quickly noised abroad through the town that Claes that was once so poor had now become rich through the generosity of his brother Josse. And the Dean of Damme was heard to say that it was Katheline no doubt who had laid a charm on Josse, and he said this because Claes, although he had received a large sum of money from his brother, had given not so much as a single vestment to Notre Dame. But Claes and Soetkin were happy again, Claes working in the fields or looking after his business of charcoal-burning, while Soetkin attended to her home right valiantly. Yet still was she sorrowful at heart, scanning ever with her eyes the open road if perchance she might see her son Ulenspiegel returning back to her. And thus it was these three lived on and experienced the happiness which comes from God while waiting for that which was going to come to them from men.XXIXThe Emperor Charles had received a letter from England, from Philip, who was now married to the Queen of that country.“Sir and Father,” the letter ran,—“It is matter of sore displeasure to me that I should have to live in a country like this where the accursed heretics swarm like fleas and worms and locusts. Fire and sword are needed to remove them from the trunk of that tree of life which is our Holy Mother the Church. And, as if this were not trouble enough, I have also to put up with being regarded not as a King but merely as the husband of the Queen; for in very truth apart from her I am destitute of all authority. And the English make mock of me, spreading broadcast the most shameful pamphlets which assert that I am being bribed by the Pope to afflict their country with every kind of impious burning and persecution.Nor can I discover who it is that writes these pamphlets, nor yet who prints them. And when I try to raise from the people some necessary contribution (for in their malice and wickedness they often leave me without any money at all), they answer by advising me, in coarse lampoons, to ask of Satan in whose pay I am. Parliament makes excuses for fear of my sting, but I can get nothing out of them. And meanwhile the walls of London are covered with the grossest pictures representing me as a parricide who is ready to strike down your Majesty for the sake of my inheritance. But well you know, my Lord and Father, that notwithstanding all the hopes of a legitimate ambition, I most certainly desire that your Majesty may enjoy yet long and glorious years of rule. Furthermore, there are circulating through the city certain engravings on copper which show me torturing animals and laughing the while. But well you know, Sire, that if ever it has happened to me to taste this profane pleasure, I have surely never laughed thereat. But they try to make out that this innocent sport is a sort of crime, despite the fact that animals have no souls, and although it is assuredly permitted to all men, especially if they be of Royal birth, to make use of brute beasts even unto death for purposes of honest recreation. But in this land of England the people are so fond of animals that they treat their animals better than their own servants. The stables and dog-kennels are kept like palaces, and I have known great lords who pass the night on the same litter with their horse. To crown all, my noble Wife and Queen is barren, and these people have the outrageous effrontery to declare that I am to blame and not she, who is in other respects a most jealous and intractable woman, and amorous to excess. Sir and Father, I pray daily that the Lord God may have me in his grace, and I live in hopes that another throne may be given me, even though it be with the Turk, what time I still await that other gloriousthrone to which I shall be one day called by the honour of being the son of your very Glorious and Victorious Majesty.(Signed)Phle.”To this letter the Emperor made reply in the following terms:“Sir and Son,—You have bitter enemies, I do not dispute it; but you must try to endure them without vexation in anticipation of the yet more brilliant crown that shall be yours hereafter. I have already made it widely known that I am determined to retire from my lordship over the Low Countries and other of my dominions, for I am growing old and gouty, and I know that I shall not long be able to withstand King Henry the Second of France, for Fortune ever favours the young. You should remember also that so long as you are master of England, you will be as a thorn in the side of our enemy France. Truly I suffered a nasty defeat at Metz, and lost there near forty thousand men. I was compelled to retreat before the King of Saxony. If God does not soon see fit by a stroke of His good and divine will to re-establish me in the force and vigour of my prime, I am inclined, Sir and Son, to quit my kingdoms altogether and to leave them to you.“Have patience therefore, and do your duty meanwhile against the heretics, sparing none of them, man, woman, girl, or child, for I am credibly informed that Madame your Queen has been minded to treat them mercifully, and this is a great grief to me.“Your affectionate father,“(Signed)Charles.”XXXUlenspiegel had been long upon the road. His feet were bleeding, but in the district of the bishopric of Mayence hemet a wagon full of pilgrims who invited him to join them, and they carried him with them to Rome.When they arrived at the city Ulenspiegel got down from the wagon, and straightway noticed a charming-looking woman standing at the door of an inn. She smiled when she saw him looking at her.Taking this kindly humour of hers for a good omen:“Hostess,” says he, “will you give asile, pray, to a poor pilgrim on pilgrimage who has carried his full time and is about to be delivered of his sins?”“We give asile to all such as pay us for it,” said the woman.I have a hundred ducats in my purse,” said Ulenspiegel (who, in fact, had no more than one), “and I would dearly like to spend the first of them in your pleasant company and over a bottle of old Roman wine.”“Wine is not dear in these holy parts,” she answered. “Come in and drink your fill. It will only cost you asoldo.”And they twain drank together for so long, and emptied so many bottles of wine and all to the tune of such pleasant conversation, that the hostess was constrained to order her servant to serve the customers in her place, while she and Ulenspiegel retired into a room at the back of the inn, a marble chamber, cool as a winter’s day, where, leaning her head on her new friend’s shoulder, she demanded of him who he might be.And Ulenspiegel answered her:“I am Lord of Geeland, Count of Gavergeëten, Baron of Tuchtendeel. I was born at Damme, in Flanders, and I hold there for my estate five and twenty acres of moonlight.”“What land is that whence you come?” the hostess asked him, drinking from Ulenspiegel’s tankard.“It is a misty land,” he told her, “a land of illusion, where are sown the seeds of false hopes and of castles in theair. But you, sweet hostess mine, were born in no such land of moonlight, you with your amber skin and your eyes that shine like pearls. For bright is the sunshine that has coloured that browned gold of your hair, and it is Lady Venus herself who, without a single pang of jealousy, has formed your soft shoulders, and your prancing breasts, your rounded arms, your delicate sweet hands. Say, shall we sup together this night?”“Fine pilgrim that you are from Flanders,” says she, “say, why are you come hither?”“To have a talk with the Pope,” said Ulenspiegel.“Heavens!” she cried, clasping her hands together, “and that is something that even myself, a native of the country, have never been able to do!”“Yet shall I,” said Ulenspiegel.“But know you where the Pope lives, what he is like, what are his habits and his ways of life?”“I heard all about him on the way,” answered Ulenspiegel. “His name is Julius III. Wanton he is, and gay and dissolute, a good talker, that never falters for a clever repartee. I have also heard that he has taken an extraordinary fancy to a little dirty beggar of a man—a dark fellow and a rude who used to wander about with a monkey asking for alms. He came to the Pope, and the Pope, it seems, has made a Cardinal of him, and now gets quite ill if a single day passes without their meeting.”“Have some more to drink,” said the landlady, “and do not speak so loud.”“I have also heard,” continued Ulenspiegel, “that one day he swore like a soldier,Al dispetto di Dio, potta di Dio, and all because they did not bring him the cold peacock that he had ordered to be kept for his supper. And he excused himself, saying, ‘If my Master was angered over an apple, I, who am the vicar of God, can certainly swear an oath about a pheasant!’ You see, my pet, I know the Pope very well, and understand just what sort of a man he is!”“Oh dear,” she said, “pray be careful and do not tell this to any one else. But still, and in spite of all you tell me, I maintain that you will not get to see him.”“I shall,” said Ulenspiegel.“I will wager you a hundred florins.”“They are mine!” said Ulenspiegel.The very next day, tired as he was, he ran through all the city and found out that the Pope was to say Mass that morning at the Church of St. John Lateran. Thither Ulenspiegel repaired, and took up a position as prominently in the Pope’s view as he could. And every time that the Pope elevated chalice or Host, Ulenspiegel turned his back to the altar. Now one of the cardinals was officiating with the Pope, swarthy of countenance he was, malicious and corpulent; and on his shoulder he carried a monkey. He reported Ulenspiegel’s behaviour to the Pope, who straightway after Mass sent four terrible-looking soldiers (such as one finds in those warlike lands) to seize the pilgrim.“What religion do you profess?” the Pope asked him.“Most Holy Father,” answered Ulenspiegel, “my religion is the same as my landlady’s.”The Pope had the woman fetched.“What is your religion?” he asked her.“The same as your Holiness’s,” she told him.“That also is mine,” said Ulenspiegel.The Pope asked him why he turned his back upon the Holy Sacrament.“I felt myself unworthy to look upon it face to face,” he answered.“You are a pilgrim?” said the Pope.“Yes,” answered Ulenspiegel, “and I am come from Flanders to beg remission of my sins.”The Pope absolved and blessed him, and Ulenspiegel departed in the company of his landlady, who paid over to him his hundred florins. And with this good store of moneyhe departed from Rome and set out to return again to the land of Flanders.But he had to pay seven ducats for the certificate of his pardon, all scribed upon parchment.XXXIIn those days there came to Damme two brothers of the Premonstratensian Order, sellers of indulgences. And over their monastic robes they wore beautiful jackets bordered with lace.When it was fine they stood outside the porch of the church, and under the porch when it was wet, and there they stuck up their tariff; and this was the scale of charges: for sixliardsa hundred years’ indulgence, for onepatardtwo hundred years, three hundred years for half a sovereign, four hundred years for seven florins, and so on according to the price—indulgences plenary or semi-plenary, and pardons for all the most terrible crimes.And they gave to their patrons, in exchange for payment, little parchment certificates on which were written out the number of years of indulgence, and below was the following inscription:Who wants not to beStewed, roasted, fricasseed,Burning in hell for evermore,Indulgences let him buy.Pardon and forgiveness,For a little money,God will return to him.And the eager purchasers came thronging round the monks. One of whom never left off addressing his audience. This brother had a blooming countenance, and displayed three chins at least, and a portentous belly, all without the least embarrassment.The Monk’s SermonThe Monk’s Sermon“Unhappy ones!” he cried, fixing with his eye now one, now another of the crowd. “Unhappy ones! Let me show you a picture. Behold! You are in hell! The fire burns you most cruelly. You are boiling in that cauldron full of oil wherein are prepared theolie-koekjesof Astarte. You are nothing better than a sausage on the frying-pan of Lucifer, or a leg of mutton on the spit of Guilguiroth, biggest of all the devils. And first they cut you up in little pieces. Ah, woe is me! Behold this sinner who despised indulgences! Behold this plate of daintiness! ’Tis he! ’Tis he! His wicked body thus reduced by damnation. And for sauce, brimstone and pitch and tar! Thus are those poor sinners eaten alive to be born again continually to their pain! And here in all reality is the place of tears and of grinding of teeth. Have mercy, God of mercy! For now, poor damned one, you are in hell, and you suffer unspeakable woes. And yet if any there were to subscribe adenierfor you, straightway one of your hands would find relief; and let but some other give a half adenierand your two hands would be freed entirely from the pain of the fire. But as for the remainder of your body, let some one only give a florin, and there falls the dew of indulgence over all! O freshness of delight! And now for ten days, a hundred days, a thousand years maybe, according as one pays, no more roast meat, no moreolie-koekjes, no more fricassees for you! And even if it is not for yourself, is there no one else, there in the secret depths of the fire, no one else for whom you would wish to gain relief—one of your parents perhaps, a dear wife, or some lovely girl with whom you have committed wilful sin?”And as he spoke these words, the monk jogged the elbow of his brother that stood by holding in his hands a silver bowl. And that brother, lowering his eyes at this signal, shook the bowl unctuously, as if inviting contributions.Whereat the preacher continued in this wise: “Or perhaps you have a son or a daughter, maybe, in the midstof this terrible fire, or some beloved little child? Hark, how they cry aloud, and weep, and call to you by name. Can you remain deaf to their pitiful voices? You cannot. Even a heart of ice must melt, though it cost you a carolus! And behold, at the very sound of the carolus as it strikes this vile metal” (and here his comrade shook the plate again), “a space opens out in the midst of the fire, and the tormented soul ascends to some volcano mouth where it meets the air, the fresh, free air! Where are the pains of the fire now? For the sea is close at hand, and straight into the sea the soul plunges. She swims on her back, on her stomach, floats upon the waves, dives beneath them. Oh, listen how she sings aloud in her joy! See how she rolls about in the water! The very angels gaze down upon her from heaven and are glad. Eagerly they await her coming; but not yet, not yet has she had her fill of the sea. If she might only turn into a fish! She knoweth not how there are prepared for her up aloft sweet baths, perfumed and scented, with fine bits of sugar-candy floating therein, all white and fresh like bits of ice. Now a shark appears. She fears it not at all, but clambers upon its back, and sits there all unnoticed, hoping he will take her with him down into the depths of the sea. And now she goes to greet the little water-angels that feed on waterzoey from coral cauldrons, and on freshest oysters from plates of mother-of-pearl. And she is welcomed and fêted and made much of, but still the angels in heaven beckon her on high, till at last, refreshed and happy, you may see her rise aloft, singing like a lark, up to the highest heaven where God sits in glory on his throne. There she finds again all her earthly friends and loved ones (save only those, forsooth, that in this life have spoken ill of indulgences and of our Holy Mother Church and who burn now for their sin upon the floor of hell. And so for ever and for ever and for ever to all ages, in an all-consuming eternity). But that other soul, now dear to God, refreshes herself in soft baths and crunches sugar-candy.Buy then, my brothers, buy your indulgences. We sell them forcrusats, for florins, or for English sovereigns. Even copper coin is not refused. Buy then, buy! This is the Holy Mart! And we have indulgences adapted to the poor man’s purse as well as to the rich man’s. Only, I am sorry to say, my brothers, no credit is allowed. For to buy without paying cash is a crime most grievous in the eyes of Our Lord.”Hereupon the monk who had kept silent shook his platter, and the florins,crusats,patards,sols, anddeniersfell into it as thick as hail.Claes, feeling himself rich, paid a florin for an indulgence of ten thousand years; and the monks delivered to him a piece of parchment in exchange.At last, seeing that there was no one left in Damme but the miserly folk who would not buy indulgences at any price, the two monks left the village and proceeded on their way to Heyst.XXXIIIn those days the country round Liége was in a disturbed and dangerous state by reason of the heresy hunts, and Lamme Goedzak came again to live in Damme. He was married now, and his wife followed him willingly because the people of Liége, who had a mocking nature, used to make fun of her husband’s meekness.Lamme often visited Claes, who, since coming into his fortune, was always to be found at the tavern of theBlauwe Torre, and had even appropriated one of the tables for himself and his boon companions. This table was next to the one where sat the Dean of the Fishmongers, Josse Grypstuiver by name, drinking sparingly from his half-pint tankard. For he was a miser, a stingy fellow who thought the world of himself, and lived for the most part on smoked herrings, and thought more of money than of the safety of his own soul. Now Claes carried in his pocket that piece of parchmentwhereon was inscribed the tale of his ten-thousand-year indulgence.One evening Claes was drinking at theBlauwe Torrein the company of Lamme Goedzak, Jan van Roosebeke, and Matthys van Assche, Josse Grypstuiver also being present. Claes had been imbibing freely, and Jan Roosebeke was remonstrating with him, saying that it was sin to drink so much. But Claes replied that a pint too much meant nothing more serious than an extra half-day in purgatory.“Besides,” said he, “I have a ten-thousand-year indulgence in my pocket! Is there any one here that would like a hundred years of them, I wonder, so that he may indulge his stomach without fear of the consequences?”Every one shouted at once:“How much are you selling them at?”“For a pint of beer,” Claes answered, “I will give you one hundred days, but for amuske conynyou shall have a hundred and fifty!”Some of the revellers gave Claes a pint of beer, others a piece of ham, and for each and all Claes cut off a little strip of his parchment. It was not Claes, forsooth, who consumed the price of his indulgences, but Lamme Goedzak; and he gorged himself so that he began to swell visibly; and all the time Claes went on distributing his merchandise up and down the tavern.The man Grypstuiver turned a sour face towards him, and asked if he had an indulgence for ten days.“No,” said Claes, “that’s too small a piece to cut.”Every one laughed, and Grypstuiver ate his anger as best he could. Then Claes went home, followed by Lamme, walking as if his legs were made of wool.

XXVNow in those days Katheline had effected a cure, by means of herbs, on three sheep, an ox, and a pig, all belonging to a certain man named Speelman. She also attempted to cure a cow, the property of one Jan Beloen, but in this she was not successful. Jan Beloen promptly accused her of being a witch, asserting that she had laid a charm on the animal, inasmuch as all the time she was giving the herbs she had caressed it and talked to it, in the Devil’s own language, as was evident—for what business has an honest Christian woman to go talking with an animal...?Jan Beloen added that he was a neighbour of Speelman’s, the man whose ox had been cured, together with three sheep and a pig as aforesaid, and if Katheline had now killed his cow, it was doubtless at the instigation of Speelman, who was jealous at seeing his, Beloen’s, land better and more profitably cultivated than his own. Pieter Meulmeester, a man of good life and reputation, and Jan Beloen himself both testified that Katheline was commonly reputed to be a witch by the people of Damme, and that she had certainly killed the cow; and on this testimony Katheline was arrested and condemned to be tortured until she had confessed her crimes and malpractices.She was cross-examined by a certain alderman who was notorious for his ill-temper, for he was accustomed to drink brandy all the day long. And he ordered her to be placed on the seat of torture in the presence of himself and the members of the Town Council.The torturer put her on the seat stark naked, and then shaved off her hair, looking carefully to see that no charm was concealed anywhere about her person. Finding none, he bound her with cords to the seat of torture. And she said:“It shames me to be naked before these men. O Mother Mary, let me die!”The torturer then wrapped some damp cloths round her breast and body and legs, and raising the bench upright he proceeded to pour great quantities of hot water down her throat so that her stomach became all swollen. Then he let the bench down again.The alderman asked Katheline if she would now acknowledge her crime. She made a sign in the negative. And the torturer poured more hot water into her; but this Katheline brought all up again.Then by the advice of the doctor she was released. But she did not speak a word, only beat her breast as much as to say that the hot water had burned her. When the torturer saw that she was recovered from this first ordeal, he said to her:“Confess that you are a witch, and that you laid a charm on the cow.”“I will confess no such thing,” replied Katheline. “I am here in your power. Nevertheless, I tell you that an animal can die of an illness, just as a man can, and in spite of all the help of surgeons and of doctors. And I swear by Our Lord Christ who was pleased to die upon the Cross for our sins, that I wished to do no harm to this cow, but simply to cure her by well-known remedies.”Thereat the alderman was angry and cried out:“This devil’s drab, she cannot go on lying for ever! Put her to the second torture.”Then he drank a large glass of brandy.The torturer meanwhile sat Katheline down on the lid of an oak coffin which was placed on trestles. Now the coffin-lid was pointed like a roof, and the edge of it was as sharp as a sword. A great fire was burning in the fireplace, for it was the month of November. Katheline, seated on the edge of the coffin-lid, had her feet shod in shoes of new leather several sizes too small for her, and then she was placed infront of the fire. When she began to feel the sharp wood of the coffin-lid cutting into her flesh, and when her shoes began to shrink under the heat of the fire, Katheline cried aloud:“Oh, agony! Will no one give me a draught of black poison?”“Put her nearer the fire,” said the alderman.Then he inquired of her:“How often, pray, have you ridden on a broom to the Witches’ Sabbath? And how many times have you caused the corn to wither in the ear, and the fruit on the tree, and the babe in the womb of its mother? And turned most loving brothers into sworn enemies, and sisters into rivals full of hatred?”Katheline would have answered if she had been able. But she could only move her arms, as if to say “No.” But the alderman said:“I see she will not speak till she has felt her witch’s fat all melting in the fire. Put her nearer.”Katheline cried out. But the alderman said:“You had better ask Satan, your friend, to refresh you.”And now her shoes were beginning to smoke in the heat of the fire, so that she made a gesture as if to try and take them off.“Ask Satan to help you,” said the alderman.Ten o’clock struck. It was the madman’s dinner hour. And he retired with the torturer and the clerk of the court, leaving Katheline alone in front of the fire in the place of torture.An hour later they returned. Katheline was still sitting there stiff and motionless. The clerk said:“I think she is dead.”The alderman commanded the torturer to remove Katheline from the coffin-lid, and to take off the shoes from her feet. This he could not do, so that he was forced to cut them,and Katheline’s feet were exposed to view, all red and bleeding. The alderman, whose thoughts were still with his dinner, gazed at her without a word. But after a while she came to her senses, and fell upon the ground, nor was she able to get up again in spite of many attempts. Then she said to the alderman:“Once you desired me for your wife. But now you shall have none of me!Four times three is the sacred number, and my husband is the thirteenth.”The alderman was going to answer her, but she forestalled him:“Be silent. His hearing is more delicate than that of the archangel in heaven who counts the heart-beats of the just. Why are you so late?Four times three is the sacred number.He killeth those who hold me in desire.”The alderman said:“It seems she welcomes the devil to her bed!”“The pains of the torture have turned her brain,” said the clerk.So Katheline was taken back into prison. And three days later there was a meeting of the aldermen in the Council Hall; and after some deliberation Katheline was condemned to suffer the ordeal by fire.She was taken to the grand market of Damme by the torturer and his assistants. There she was made to mount the scaffold. In the square were assembled the provost, the herald, and the judges. The herald sounded his trumpet thrice, then turned towards the crowd and made the following announcement:“The Council of Damme,” he cried, “having taken pity upon the woman Katheline, have decreed that punishment shall not be exacted to the full extremity of the rigour of our laws. Nevertheless, in witness that she is a sorceress, her hair shall be burned, she shall pay a fine of twentycarolus d’or, and she shall be banished from the territory of Damme forthe space of three years, under penalty of losing one of her limbs.”And at this rough gentleness the people broke into applause.Then the torturer tied Katheline to the stake, placed on her shorn scalp a wig of tow, and held it in the fire. And the tow burned for a long time, and Katheline cried aloud and wept.Then they released her, and she was put in a cart and taken away outside the territory of Damme. She could not walk at all, because of her feet that were burned.

XXV

Now in those days Katheline had effected a cure, by means of herbs, on three sheep, an ox, and a pig, all belonging to a certain man named Speelman. She also attempted to cure a cow, the property of one Jan Beloen, but in this she was not successful. Jan Beloen promptly accused her of being a witch, asserting that she had laid a charm on the animal, inasmuch as all the time she was giving the herbs she had caressed it and talked to it, in the Devil’s own language, as was evident—for what business has an honest Christian woman to go talking with an animal...?Jan Beloen added that he was a neighbour of Speelman’s, the man whose ox had been cured, together with three sheep and a pig as aforesaid, and if Katheline had now killed his cow, it was doubtless at the instigation of Speelman, who was jealous at seeing his, Beloen’s, land better and more profitably cultivated than his own. Pieter Meulmeester, a man of good life and reputation, and Jan Beloen himself both testified that Katheline was commonly reputed to be a witch by the people of Damme, and that she had certainly killed the cow; and on this testimony Katheline was arrested and condemned to be tortured until she had confessed her crimes and malpractices.She was cross-examined by a certain alderman who was notorious for his ill-temper, for he was accustomed to drink brandy all the day long. And he ordered her to be placed on the seat of torture in the presence of himself and the members of the Town Council.The torturer put her on the seat stark naked, and then shaved off her hair, looking carefully to see that no charm was concealed anywhere about her person. Finding none, he bound her with cords to the seat of torture. And she said:“It shames me to be naked before these men. O Mother Mary, let me die!”The torturer then wrapped some damp cloths round her breast and body and legs, and raising the bench upright he proceeded to pour great quantities of hot water down her throat so that her stomach became all swollen. Then he let the bench down again.The alderman asked Katheline if she would now acknowledge her crime. She made a sign in the negative. And the torturer poured more hot water into her; but this Katheline brought all up again.Then by the advice of the doctor she was released. But she did not speak a word, only beat her breast as much as to say that the hot water had burned her. When the torturer saw that she was recovered from this first ordeal, he said to her:“Confess that you are a witch, and that you laid a charm on the cow.”“I will confess no such thing,” replied Katheline. “I am here in your power. Nevertheless, I tell you that an animal can die of an illness, just as a man can, and in spite of all the help of surgeons and of doctors. And I swear by Our Lord Christ who was pleased to die upon the Cross for our sins, that I wished to do no harm to this cow, but simply to cure her by well-known remedies.”Thereat the alderman was angry and cried out:“This devil’s drab, she cannot go on lying for ever! Put her to the second torture.”Then he drank a large glass of brandy.The torturer meanwhile sat Katheline down on the lid of an oak coffin which was placed on trestles. Now the coffin-lid was pointed like a roof, and the edge of it was as sharp as a sword. A great fire was burning in the fireplace, for it was the month of November. Katheline, seated on the edge of the coffin-lid, had her feet shod in shoes of new leather several sizes too small for her, and then she was placed infront of the fire. When she began to feel the sharp wood of the coffin-lid cutting into her flesh, and when her shoes began to shrink under the heat of the fire, Katheline cried aloud:“Oh, agony! Will no one give me a draught of black poison?”“Put her nearer the fire,” said the alderman.Then he inquired of her:“How often, pray, have you ridden on a broom to the Witches’ Sabbath? And how many times have you caused the corn to wither in the ear, and the fruit on the tree, and the babe in the womb of its mother? And turned most loving brothers into sworn enemies, and sisters into rivals full of hatred?”Katheline would have answered if she had been able. But she could only move her arms, as if to say “No.” But the alderman said:“I see she will not speak till she has felt her witch’s fat all melting in the fire. Put her nearer.”Katheline cried out. But the alderman said:“You had better ask Satan, your friend, to refresh you.”And now her shoes were beginning to smoke in the heat of the fire, so that she made a gesture as if to try and take them off.“Ask Satan to help you,” said the alderman.Ten o’clock struck. It was the madman’s dinner hour. And he retired with the torturer and the clerk of the court, leaving Katheline alone in front of the fire in the place of torture.An hour later they returned. Katheline was still sitting there stiff and motionless. The clerk said:“I think she is dead.”The alderman commanded the torturer to remove Katheline from the coffin-lid, and to take off the shoes from her feet. This he could not do, so that he was forced to cut them,and Katheline’s feet were exposed to view, all red and bleeding. The alderman, whose thoughts were still with his dinner, gazed at her without a word. But after a while she came to her senses, and fell upon the ground, nor was she able to get up again in spite of many attempts. Then she said to the alderman:“Once you desired me for your wife. But now you shall have none of me!Four times three is the sacred number, and my husband is the thirteenth.”The alderman was going to answer her, but she forestalled him:“Be silent. His hearing is more delicate than that of the archangel in heaven who counts the heart-beats of the just. Why are you so late?Four times three is the sacred number.He killeth those who hold me in desire.”The alderman said:“It seems she welcomes the devil to her bed!”“The pains of the torture have turned her brain,” said the clerk.So Katheline was taken back into prison. And three days later there was a meeting of the aldermen in the Council Hall; and after some deliberation Katheline was condemned to suffer the ordeal by fire.She was taken to the grand market of Damme by the torturer and his assistants. There she was made to mount the scaffold. In the square were assembled the provost, the herald, and the judges. The herald sounded his trumpet thrice, then turned towards the crowd and made the following announcement:“The Council of Damme,” he cried, “having taken pity upon the woman Katheline, have decreed that punishment shall not be exacted to the full extremity of the rigour of our laws. Nevertheless, in witness that she is a sorceress, her hair shall be burned, she shall pay a fine of twentycarolus d’or, and she shall be banished from the territory of Damme forthe space of three years, under penalty of losing one of her limbs.”And at this rough gentleness the people broke into applause.Then the torturer tied Katheline to the stake, placed on her shorn scalp a wig of tow, and held it in the fire. And the tow burned for a long time, and Katheline cried aloud and wept.Then they released her, and she was put in a cart and taken away outside the territory of Damme. She could not walk at all, because of her feet that were burned.

Now in those days Katheline had effected a cure, by means of herbs, on three sheep, an ox, and a pig, all belonging to a certain man named Speelman. She also attempted to cure a cow, the property of one Jan Beloen, but in this she was not successful. Jan Beloen promptly accused her of being a witch, asserting that she had laid a charm on the animal, inasmuch as all the time she was giving the herbs she had caressed it and talked to it, in the Devil’s own language, as was evident—for what business has an honest Christian woman to go talking with an animal...?

Jan Beloen added that he was a neighbour of Speelman’s, the man whose ox had been cured, together with three sheep and a pig as aforesaid, and if Katheline had now killed his cow, it was doubtless at the instigation of Speelman, who was jealous at seeing his, Beloen’s, land better and more profitably cultivated than his own. Pieter Meulmeester, a man of good life and reputation, and Jan Beloen himself both testified that Katheline was commonly reputed to be a witch by the people of Damme, and that she had certainly killed the cow; and on this testimony Katheline was arrested and condemned to be tortured until she had confessed her crimes and malpractices.

She was cross-examined by a certain alderman who was notorious for his ill-temper, for he was accustomed to drink brandy all the day long. And he ordered her to be placed on the seat of torture in the presence of himself and the members of the Town Council.

The torturer put her on the seat stark naked, and then shaved off her hair, looking carefully to see that no charm was concealed anywhere about her person. Finding none, he bound her with cords to the seat of torture. And she said:

“It shames me to be naked before these men. O Mother Mary, let me die!”

The torturer then wrapped some damp cloths round her breast and body and legs, and raising the bench upright he proceeded to pour great quantities of hot water down her throat so that her stomach became all swollen. Then he let the bench down again.

The alderman asked Katheline if she would now acknowledge her crime. She made a sign in the negative. And the torturer poured more hot water into her; but this Katheline brought all up again.

Then by the advice of the doctor she was released. But she did not speak a word, only beat her breast as much as to say that the hot water had burned her. When the torturer saw that she was recovered from this first ordeal, he said to her:

“Confess that you are a witch, and that you laid a charm on the cow.”

“I will confess no such thing,” replied Katheline. “I am here in your power. Nevertheless, I tell you that an animal can die of an illness, just as a man can, and in spite of all the help of surgeons and of doctors. And I swear by Our Lord Christ who was pleased to die upon the Cross for our sins, that I wished to do no harm to this cow, but simply to cure her by well-known remedies.”

Thereat the alderman was angry and cried out:

“This devil’s drab, she cannot go on lying for ever! Put her to the second torture.”

Then he drank a large glass of brandy.

The torturer meanwhile sat Katheline down on the lid of an oak coffin which was placed on trestles. Now the coffin-lid was pointed like a roof, and the edge of it was as sharp as a sword. A great fire was burning in the fireplace, for it was the month of November. Katheline, seated on the edge of the coffin-lid, had her feet shod in shoes of new leather several sizes too small for her, and then she was placed infront of the fire. When she began to feel the sharp wood of the coffin-lid cutting into her flesh, and when her shoes began to shrink under the heat of the fire, Katheline cried aloud:

“Oh, agony! Will no one give me a draught of black poison?”

“Put her nearer the fire,” said the alderman.

Then he inquired of her:

“How often, pray, have you ridden on a broom to the Witches’ Sabbath? And how many times have you caused the corn to wither in the ear, and the fruit on the tree, and the babe in the womb of its mother? And turned most loving brothers into sworn enemies, and sisters into rivals full of hatred?”

Katheline would have answered if she had been able. But she could only move her arms, as if to say “No.” But the alderman said:

“I see she will not speak till she has felt her witch’s fat all melting in the fire. Put her nearer.”

Katheline cried out. But the alderman said:

“You had better ask Satan, your friend, to refresh you.”

And now her shoes were beginning to smoke in the heat of the fire, so that she made a gesture as if to try and take them off.

“Ask Satan to help you,” said the alderman.

Ten o’clock struck. It was the madman’s dinner hour. And he retired with the torturer and the clerk of the court, leaving Katheline alone in front of the fire in the place of torture.

An hour later they returned. Katheline was still sitting there stiff and motionless. The clerk said:

“I think she is dead.”

The alderman commanded the torturer to remove Katheline from the coffin-lid, and to take off the shoes from her feet. This he could not do, so that he was forced to cut them,and Katheline’s feet were exposed to view, all red and bleeding. The alderman, whose thoughts were still with his dinner, gazed at her without a word. But after a while she came to her senses, and fell upon the ground, nor was she able to get up again in spite of many attempts. Then she said to the alderman:

“Once you desired me for your wife. But now you shall have none of me!Four times three is the sacred number, and my husband is the thirteenth.”

The alderman was going to answer her, but she forestalled him:

“Be silent. His hearing is more delicate than that of the archangel in heaven who counts the heart-beats of the just. Why are you so late?Four times three is the sacred number.He killeth those who hold me in desire.”

The alderman said:

“It seems she welcomes the devil to her bed!”

“The pains of the torture have turned her brain,” said the clerk.

So Katheline was taken back into prison. And three days later there was a meeting of the aldermen in the Council Hall; and after some deliberation Katheline was condemned to suffer the ordeal by fire.

She was taken to the grand market of Damme by the torturer and his assistants. There she was made to mount the scaffold. In the square were assembled the provost, the herald, and the judges. The herald sounded his trumpet thrice, then turned towards the crowd and made the following announcement:

“The Council of Damme,” he cried, “having taken pity upon the woman Katheline, have decreed that punishment shall not be exacted to the full extremity of the rigour of our laws. Nevertheless, in witness that she is a sorceress, her hair shall be burned, she shall pay a fine of twentycarolus d’or, and she shall be banished from the territory of Damme forthe space of three years, under penalty of losing one of her limbs.”

And at this rough gentleness the people broke into applause.

Then the torturer tied Katheline to the stake, placed on her shorn scalp a wig of tow, and held it in the fire. And the tow burned for a long time, and Katheline cried aloud and wept.

Then they released her, and she was put in a cart and taken away outside the territory of Damme. She could not walk at all, because of her feet that were burned.

XXVIUlenspiegel, meanwhile, had arrived in his wanderings at the fish-market at Liége. There he descried a tall young fellow carrying under his arm a net filled with all sorts of poultry, and another net also which he was rapidly filling with haddock, trout, eels, and pike.Ulenspiegel recognized him as none other than his old friend Lamme Goedzak.“What are you doing here, Lamme?” he said.“You must know,” Lamme answered, “that many people have lately emigrated from Flanders to this gentle land of Liége. As for me, I follow my loves. And you?”“I am on the look-out for a master to serve for my daily bread,” said Ulenspiegel.“Bread is a dry sort of nourishment,” said Lamme. “You would do better to try a chaplet of ortolans with a thrush for theCredo.”“You have plenty of money?” Ulenspiegel inquired.Lamme Goedzak made answer:“I have lost my father and mother, and that young sister of mine that used to beat me so. I shall inherit all their property, and now I am living with a one-eyed servant who is very learned in the noble art of making fricassees.”“Would you like me to carry your fish and your poultry for you?” suggested Ulenspiegel.“Yes,” said Lamme.And together they began to wander through the market. All at once Lamme said to his companion:“You are mad. Do you know why?”“No,” said Ulenspiegel.“Because you go carrying fish and poultry in your hand instead of in your stomach.”“You are right, Lamme,” said Ulenspiegel; “but since I have lacked bread, ortolans will not even look at me.”“You shall eat your fill of them,” said Lamme, “and serve me too, if my cook takes a fancy to you.”While they were walking along, Lamme pointed out to Ulenspiegel a beautiful young girl, who was walking through the market. She wore a silk dress and gazed at Lamme with sweet and gentle eyes. An old man, her father, walked just behind, carrying two nets, one filled with fish, the other with game.“See that girl?” said Lamme, pointing at her. “I am going to marry her.”“Oh!” said Ulenspiegel, “I know her. She is a Flemish maid from Zotteghem. She lives in the rue Vinave-d’Isle, and the neighbours say that she lets her mother sweep the road in front of the house in her stead, while her own father irons her underclothing.”To this Lamme made no answer, but exclaimed delightedly:“She looked at me just now!”By this time they were come to Lamme’s lodging, near the Pont-des-Arches. They knocked at the door, and a one-eyed servant opened to them. Ulenspiegel saw that she was old, scraggy, lank, and fierce of aspect.Lamme addressed her asLa Sanginne, and inquired if she would take Ulenspiegel to help in the kitchen.“I will give him a trial,” she said.“Then take him,” said Lamme, “and let him also make trial of the delights of your kitchen.”La Sanginne put three black puddings on the table, a pint of ale, and a large loaf of bread. Ulenspiegel set to with a will, and Lamme began to nibble at one of the puddings.“Know you,” Lamme asked presently, “where it is that our souls abide?”“No, Lamme,” said Ulenspiegel.“In our stomachs,” Lamme told him, “so they can keep them excavated continually, and for ever renew in our bodies the impulse for life. And who are the best companions for a man? I’ll tell you. The best companions for a man are all good and jolly things to eat, and wine from the Meuse to crown all!”“True,” said Ulenspiegel. “A pudding is good company to a solitary soul.”“He’s still hungry,” said Lamme to La Sanginne. “Give him some more.” And the woman served him with a second portion of pudding—white this time.While Ulenspiegel went on eating, Lamme grew thoughtful.“When I die,” said he, “my stomach will die with me, and down there in purgatory they will leave me to fast, and I shall have to carry my poor belly about with me, all empty and limp.”“I like the black ones best,” said Ulenspiegel.“You have eaten six already,” said La Sanginne, “and you won’t have any more.”“You may be sure,” said Lamme, “that you will be well treated here, and you will have just the same to eat as I do.”“I shall remember this promise of yours,” said Ulenspiegel. But seeing that what his friend had told him was the truth, Ulenspiegel was well content, and the puddings that he had swallowed gave him such courage that on that veryday he polished the kettles and the pots and the pans till they shone like the sun. And he lived happily in that house, frequenting willingly the kitchen and the wine-cellar, and leaving the loft to the cats.One day La Sanginne had two poulets to roast, and she asked Ulenspiegel to turn the spit while she went to market for some herbs for a seasoning. The two poulets being well roasted, Ulenspiegel took one of them and ate it. When La Sanginne returned from the market she remarked:“There were two poulets, but now I can only see one.”“Just open your other eye,” answered Ulenspiegel, “and you will see the two of them all right!”But she was angry, and went to Lamme Goedzak to tell him what had happened. Lamme came down into the kitchen and said to Ulenspiegel:“Why do you make fun of my serving-maid? There were certainly two poulets.”“Therewere,” said Ulenspiegel, “but when I came you told me that I was to eat and drink just as much as you. There were two poulets. Very well. I have eaten one, and you will eat the other. My pleasure is over. Yours is still to come. Are you not happier than I?”“Yes,” said Lamme smiling, “but just you do what La Sanginne tells you, and you’ll find your work halved.”“I will be careful to do as you say,” said Ulenspiegel.So every time that La Sanginne told him to do anything he did but the half of it. If she asked him to go and draw two pails of water he would only bring back one; and if she told him to go and fill a pot of ale at the cask, he would pour the half of it down his throat on the way—and so on and so on.At last La Sanginne grew tired of these goings on, and she told Lamme that either this good-for-nothing fellow must leave the house or she must leave herself.Lamme descended on Ulenspiegel and told him:“You’ll have to go, my son, notwithstanding that you have looked so much better in health since you have been here. Listen to that cock crowing. And it’s two o’clock of the afternoon! That means rain. I am sorry to have to put you out of doors in bad weather. But there, my son, you know that La Sanginne is the guardian angel of my life, with her lovely fricassees. If she were to leave me I might die a speedy death. I cannot risk it. Go then, my boy, and God be with you, and here are three florins and this string of saveloys to liven your journey.”And Ulenspiegel departed, crestfallen and with many regrets for Lamme and his kitchen.

XXVI

Ulenspiegel, meanwhile, had arrived in his wanderings at the fish-market at Liége. There he descried a tall young fellow carrying under his arm a net filled with all sorts of poultry, and another net also which he was rapidly filling with haddock, trout, eels, and pike.Ulenspiegel recognized him as none other than his old friend Lamme Goedzak.“What are you doing here, Lamme?” he said.“You must know,” Lamme answered, “that many people have lately emigrated from Flanders to this gentle land of Liége. As for me, I follow my loves. And you?”“I am on the look-out for a master to serve for my daily bread,” said Ulenspiegel.“Bread is a dry sort of nourishment,” said Lamme. “You would do better to try a chaplet of ortolans with a thrush for theCredo.”“You have plenty of money?” Ulenspiegel inquired.Lamme Goedzak made answer:“I have lost my father and mother, and that young sister of mine that used to beat me so. I shall inherit all their property, and now I am living with a one-eyed servant who is very learned in the noble art of making fricassees.”“Would you like me to carry your fish and your poultry for you?” suggested Ulenspiegel.“Yes,” said Lamme.And together they began to wander through the market. All at once Lamme said to his companion:“You are mad. Do you know why?”“No,” said Ulenspiegel.“Because you go carrying fish and poultry in your hand instead of in your stomach.”“You are right, Lamme,” said Ulenspiegel; “but since I have lacked bread, ortolans will not even look at me.”“You shall eat your fill of them,” said Lamme, “and serve me too, if my cook takes a fancy to you.”While they were walking along, Lamme pointed out to Ulenspiegel a beautiful young girl, who was walking through the market. She wore a silk dress and gazed at Lamme with sweet and gentle eyes. An old man, her father, walked just behind, carrying two nets, one filled with fish, the other with game.“See that girl?” said Lamme, pointing at her. “I am going to marry her.”“Oh!” said Ulenspiegel, “I know her. She is a Flemish maid from Zotteghem. She lives in the rue Vinave-d’Isle, and the neighbours say that she lets her mother sweep the road in front of the house in her stead, while her own father irons her underclothing.”To this Lamme made no answer, but exclaimed delightedly:“She looked at me just now!”By this time they were come to Lamme’s lodging, near the Pont-des-Arches. They knocked at the door, and a one-eyed servant opened to them. Ulenspiegel saw that she was old, scraggy, lank, and fierce of aspect.Lamme addressed her asLa Sanginne, and inquired if she would take Ulenspiegel to help in the kitchen.“I will give him a trial,” she said.“Then take him,” said Lamme, “and let him also make trial of the delights of your kitchen.”La Sanginne put three black puddings on the table, a pint of ale, and a large loaf of bread. Ulenspiegel set to with a will, and Lamme began to nibble at one of the puddings.“Know you,” Lamme asked presently, “where it is that our souls abide?”“No, Lamme,” said Ulenspiegel.“In our stomachs,” Lamme told him, “so they can keep them excavated continually, and for ever renew in our bodies the impulse for life. And who are the best companions for a man? I’ll tell you. The best companions for a man are all good and jolly things to eat, and wine from the Meuse to crown all!”“True,” said Ulenspiegel. “A pudding is good company to a solitary soul.”“He’s still hungry,” said Lamme to La Sanginne. “Give him some more.” And the woman served him with a second portion of pudding—white this time.While Ulenspiegel went on eating, Lamme grew thoughtful.“When I die,” said he, “my stomach will die with me, and down there in purgatory they will leave me to fast, and I shall have to carry my poor belly about with me, all empty and limp.”“I like the black ones best,” said Ulenspiegel.“You have eaten six already,” said La Sanginne, “and you won’t have any more.”“You may be sure,” said Lamme, “that you will be well treated here, and you will have just the same to eat as I do.”“I shall remember this promise of yours,” said Ulenspiegel. But seeing that what his friend had told him was the truth, Ulenspiegel was well content, and the puddings that he had swallowed gave him such courage that on that veryday he polished the kettles and the pots and the pans till they shone like the sun. And he lived happily in that house, frequenting willingly the kitchen and the wine-cellar, and leaving the loft to the cats.One day La Sanginne had two poulets to roast, and she asked Ulenspiegel to turn the spit while she went to market for some herbs for a seasoning. The two poulets being well roasted, Ulenspiegel took one of them and ate it. When La Sanginne returned from the market she remarked:“There were two poulets, but now I can only see one.”“Just open your other eye,” answered Ulenspiegel, “and you will see the two of them all right!”But she was angry, and went to Lamme Goedzak to tell him what had happened. Lamme came down into the kitchen and said to Ulenspiegel:“Why do you make fun of my serving-maid? There were certainly two poulets.”“Therewere,” said Ulenspiegel, “but when I came you told me that I was to eat and drink just as much as you. There were two poulets. Very well. I have eaten one, and you will eat the other. My pleasure is over. Yours is still to come. Are you not happier than I?”“Yes,” said Lamme smiling, “but just you do what La Sanginne tells you, and you’ll find your work halved.”“I will be careful to do as you say,” said Ulenspiegel.So every time that La Sanginne told him to do anything he did but the half of it. If she asked him to go and draw two pails of water he would only bring back one; and if she told him to go and fill a pot of ale at the cask, he would pour the half of it down his throat on the way—and so on and so on.At last La Sanginne grew tired of these goings on, and she told Lamme that either this good-for-nothing fellow must leave the house or she must leave herself.Lamme descended on Ulenspiegel and told him:“You’ll have to go, my son, notwithstanding that you have looked so much better in health since you have been here. Listen to that cock crowing. And it’s two o’clock of the afternoon! That means rain. I am sorry to have to put you out of doors in bad weather. But there, my son, you know that La Sanginne is the guardian angel of my life, with her lovely fricassees. If she were to leave me I might die a speedy death. I cannot risk it. Go then, my boy, and God be with you, and here are three florins and this string of saveloys to liven your journey.”And Ulenspiegel departed, crestfallen and with many regrets for Lamme and his kitchen.

Ulenspiegel, meanwhile, had arrived in his wanderings at the fish-market at Liége. There he descried a tall young fellow carrying under his arm a net filled with all sorts of poultry, and another net also which he was rapidly filling with haddock, trout, eels, and pike.

Ulenspiegel recognized him as none other than his old friend Lamme Goedzak.

“What are you doing here, Lamme?” he said.

“You must know,” Lamme answered, “that many people have lately emigrated from Flanders to this gentle land of Liége. As for me, I follow my loves. And you?”

“I am on the look-out for a master to serve for my daily bread,” said Ulenspiegel.

“Bread is a dry sort of nourishment,” said Lamme. “You would do better to try a chaplet of ortolans with a thrush for theCredo.”

“You have plenty of money?” Ulenspiegel inquired.

Lamme Goedzak made answer:

“I have lost my father and mother, and that young sister of mine that used to beat me so. I shall inherit all their property, and now I am living with a one-eyed servant who is very learned in the noble art of making fricassees.”

“Would you like me to carry your fish and your poultry for you?” suggested Ulenspiegel.

“Yes,” said Lamme.

And together they began to wander through the market. All at once Lamme said to his companion:

“You are mad. Do you know why?”

“No,” said Ulenspiegel.

“Because you go carrying fish and poultry in your hand instead of in your stomach.”

“You are right, Lamme,” said Ulenspiegel; “but since I have lacked bread, ortolans will not even look at me.”

“You shall eat your fill of them,” said Lamme, “and serve me too, if my cook takes a fancy to you.”

While they were walking along, Lamme pointed out to Ulenspiegel a beautiful young girl, who was walking through the market. She wore a silk dress and gazed at Lamme with sweet and gentle eyes. An old man, her father, walked just behind, carrying two nets, one filled with fish, the other with game.

“See that girl?” said Lamme, pointing at her. “I am going to marry her.”

“Oh!” said Ulenspiegel, “I know her. She is a Flemish maid from Zotteghem. She lives in the rue Vinave-d’Isle, and the neighbours say that she lets her mother sweep the road in front of the house in her stead, while her own father irons her underclothing.”

To this Lamme made no answer, but exclaimed delightedly:

“She looked at me just now!”

By this time they were come to Lamme’s lodging, near the Pont-des-Arches. They knocked at the door, and a one-eyed servant opened to them. Ulenspiegel saw that she was old, scraggy, lank, and fierce of aspect.

Lamme addressed her asLa Sanginne, and inquired if she would take Ulenspiegel to help in the kitchen.

“I will give him a trial,” she said.

“Then take him,” said Lamme, “and let him also make trial of the delights of your kitchen.”

La Sanginne put three black puddings on the table, a pint of ale, and a large loaf of bread. Ulenspiegel set to with a will, and Lamme began to nibble at one of the puddings.

“Know you,” Lamme asked presently, “where it is that our souls abide?”

“No, Lamme,” said Ulenspiegel.

“In our stomachs,” Lamme told him, “so they can keep them excavated continually, and for ever renew in our bodies the impulse for life. And who are the best companions for a man? I’ll tell you. The best companions for a man are all good and jolly things to eat, and wine from the Meuse to crown all!”

“True,” said Ulenspiegel. “A pudding is good company to a solitary soul.”

“He’s still hungry,” said Lamme to La Sanginne. “Give him some more.” And the woman served him with a second portion of pudding—white this time.

While Ulenspiegel went on eating, Lamme grew thoughtful.

“When I die,” said he, “my stomach will die with me, and down there in purgatory they will leave me to fast, and I shall have to carry my poor belly about with me, all empty and limp.”

“I like the black ones best,” said Ulenspiegel.

“You have eaten six already,” said La Sanginne, “and you won’t have any more.”

“You may be sure,” said Lamme, “that you will be well treated here, and you will have just the same to eat as I do.”

“I shall remember this promise of yours,” said Ulenspiegel. But seeing that what his friend had told him was the truth, Ulenspiegel was well content, and the puddings that he had swallowed gave him such courage that on that veryday he polished the kettles and the pots and the pans till they shone like the sun. And he lived happily in that house, frequenting willingly the kitchen and the wine-cellar, and leaving the loft to the cats.

One day La Sanginne had two poulets to roast, and she asked Ulenspiegel to turn the spit while she went to market for some herbs for a seasoning. The two poulets being well roasted, Ulenspiegel took one of them and ate it. When La Sanginne returned from the market she remarked:

“There were two poulets, but now I can only see one.”

“Just open your other eye,” answered Ulenspiegel, “and you will see the two of them all right!”

But she was angry, and went to Lamme Goedzak to tell him what had happened. Lamme came down into the kitchen and said to Ulenspiegel:

“Why do you make fun of my serving-maid? There were certainly two poulets.”

“Therewere,” said Ulenspiegel, “but when I came you told me that I was to eat and drink just as much as you. There were two poulets. Very well. I have eaten one, and you will eat the other. My pleasure is over. Yours is still to come. Are you not happier than I?”

“Yes,” said Lamme smiling, “but just you do what La Sanginne tells you, and you’ll find your work halved.”

“I will be careful to do as you say,” said Ulenspiegel.

So every time that La Sanginne told him to do anything he did but the half of it. If she asked him to go and draw two pails of water he would only bring back one; and if she told him to go and fill a pot of ale at the cask, he would pour the half of it down his throat on the way—and so on and so on.

At last La Sanginne grew tired of these goings on, and she told Lamme that either this good-for-nothing fellow must leave the house or she must leave herself.

Lamme descended on Ulenspiegel and told him:

“You’ll have to go, my son, notwithstanding that you have looked so much better in health since you have been here. Listen to that cock crowing. And it’s two o’clock of the afternoon! That means rain. I am sorry to have to put you out of doors in bad weather. But there, my son, you know that La Sanginne is the guardian angel of my life, with her lovely fricassees. If she were to leave me I might die a speedy death. I cannot risk it. Go then, my boy, and God be with you, and here are three florins and this string of saveloys to liven your journey.”

And Ulenspiegel departed, crestfallen and with many regrets for Lamme and his kitchen.

XXVIIThere was a rumour abroad that the Emperor Charles was going to annul the right of the monks to inherit the estates of those who happened to die in their convents, a thing which was very displeasing to the Pope.One day when Ulenspiegel was come to fish from the banks of the river Meuse, he was thinking to himself that by the above action the Emperor would stand to profit both ways, since he would inherit the said estates, while the family of the deceased would inherit nothing at all. Pondering these thoughts, he carefully baited his hook, and then sat down by the river-side. And he began to nibble at a piece of stale brown bread, regretting the while that he had no good Romagna wine wherewith to wash it down. Still, he thought, one cannot always have everything just as one would like. And all the time he kept on throwing little pieces of his bread into the water, saying to himself that no man deserves a meal who will not share it with his neighbours.Now it was that a gudgeon came upon the scene, attracted in the first place by the odour of bread-crumbs; and he licked up the bread with his lips and opened his mouth for more, thinking no doubt in his innocence that the bread would fallinto his gullet of itself. But while gazing thus in the air the gudgeon was suddenly swallowed up by a treacherous pike who had hurled himself upon him like a flash of lightning.Now the pike played a similar trick upon a carp who was catching flies on the top of the water without any fear of danger. And after this good meal the pike stayed motionless below the surface of the water, disdainful of the smaller fry, who, indeed, were only too glad to swim away from him of their own accord and as fast as ever they could. But while the pike was taking his ease in this manner, a second pike came up; and he was a hungry pike, and his mouth was open wide, for as yet he had not breakfasted. With a bound the new arrival threw himself upon his brother, and a furious combat ensued. They lashed at one another with their fins, the water was red with their blood. The pike that had eaten defended himself but feebly against the assaults of the hungry one; nevertheless, backing a little, he took courage again and threw himself like a bullet against his adversary. The latter awaited this new attack with open jaws, which did not close until more than half of his assailant’s head had disappeared between them. Now they tried to free themselves, but could not because of the hooked teeth of the one that had become embedded in the flesh of the other. And so they battled against each other in despair. Nor did they notice, interlocked as they were, the strong fish-hook at the end of a silken cord, which rose towards them from the depths of the water. In another moment it had embedded itself in the body of the pike that had dined, and the two struggling fish found themselves drawn out of the water and laid together on the grass without the least deference.As he killed them Ulenspiegel said:“Ha ha, my little pikes, I will call you the Pope and the Emperor, that prey ever one upon the other; but I, forsooth, am the Common Man that shall catch you on his hook, in God’s good time, and make an end of your battles!”

XXVII

There was a rumour abroad that the Emperor Charles was going to annul the right of the monks to inherit the estates of those who happened to die in their convents, a thing which was very displeasing to the Pope.One day when Ulenspiegel was come to fish from the banks of the river Meuse, he was thinking to himself that by the above action the Emperor would stand to profit both ways, since he would inherit the said estates, while the family of the deceased would inherit nothing at all. Pondering these thoughts, he carefully baited his hook, and then sat down by the river-side. And he began to nibble at a piece of stale brown bread, regretting the while that he had no good Romagna wine wherewith to wash it down. Still, he thought, one cannot always have everything just as one would like. And all the time he kept on throwing little pieces of his bread into the water, saying to himself that no man deserves a meal who will not share it with his neighbours.Now it was that a gudgeon came upon the scene, attracted in the first place by the odour of bread-crumbs; and he licked up the bread with his lips and opened his mouth for more, thinking no doubt in his innocence that the bread would fallinto his gullet of itself. But while gazing thus in the air the gudgeon was suddenly swallowed up by a treacherous pike who had hurled himself upon him like a flash of lightning.Now the pike played a similar trick upon a carp who was catching flies on the top of the water without any fear of danger. And after this good meal the pike stayed motionless below the surface of the water, disdainful of the smaller fry, who, indeed, were only too glad to swim away from him of their own accord and as fast as ever they could. But while the pike was taking his ease in this manner, a second pike came up; and he was a hungry pike, and his mouth was open wide, for as yet he had not breakfasted. With a bound the new arrival threw himself upon his brother, and a furious combat ensued. They lashed at one another with their fins, the water was red with their blood. The pike that had eaten defended himself but feebly against the assaults of the hungry one; nevertheless, backing a little, he took courage again and threw himself like a bullet against his adversary. The latter awaited this new attack with open jaws, which did not close until more than half of his assailant’s head had disappeared between them. Now they tried to free themselves, but could not because of the hooked teeth of the one that had become embedded in the flesh of the other. And so they battled against each other in despair. Nor did they notice, interlocked as they were, the strong fish-hook at the end of a silken cord, which rose towards them from the depths of the water. In another moment it had embedded itself in the body of the pike that had dined, and the two struggling fish found themselves drawn out of the water and laid together on the grass without the least deference.As he killed them Ulenspiegel said:“Ha ha, my little pikes, I will call you the Pope and the Emperor, that prey ever one upon the other; but I, forsooth, am the Common Man that shall catch you on his hook, in God’s good time, and make an end of your battles!”

There was a rumour abroad that the Emperor Charles was going to annul the right of the monks to inherit the estates of those who happened to die in their convents, a thing which was very displeasing to the Pope.

One day when Ulenspiegel was come to fish from the banks of the river Meuse, he was thinking to himself that by the above action the Emperor would stand to profit both ways, since he would inherit the said estates, while the family of the deceased would inherit nothing at all. Pondering these thoughts, he carefully baited his hook, and then sat down by the river-side. And he began to nibble at a piece of stale brown bread, regretting the while that he had no good Romagna wine wherewith to wash it down. Still, he thought, one cannot always have everything just as one would like. And all the time he kept on throwing little pieces of his bread into the water, saying to himself that no man deserves a meal who will not share it with his neighbours.

Now it was that a gudgeon came upon the scene, attracted in the first place by the odour of bread-crumbs; and he licked up the bread with his lips and opened his mouth for more, thinking no doubt in his innocence that the bread would fallinto his gullet of itself. But while gazing thus in the air the gudgeon was suddenly swallowed up by a treacherous pike who had hurled himself upon him like a flash of lightning.

Now the pike played a similar trick upon a carp who was catching flies on the top of the water without any fear of danger. And after this good meal the pike stayed motionless below the surface of the water, disdainful of the smaller fry, who, indeed, were only too glad to swim away from him of their own accord and as fast as ever they could. But while the pike was taking his ease in this manner, a second pike came up; and he was a hungry pike, and his mouth was open wide, for as yet he had not breakfasted. With a bound the new arrival threw himself upon his brother, and a furious combat ensued. They lashed at one another with their fins, the water was red with their blood. The pike that had eaten defended himself but feebly against the assaults of the hungry one; nevertheless, backing a little, he took courage again and threw himself like a bullet against his adversary. The latter awaited this new attack with open jaws, which did not close until more than half of his assailant’s head had disappeared between them. Now they tried to free themselves, but could not because of the hooked teeth of the one that had become embedded in the flesh of the other. And so they battled against each other in despair. Nor did they notice, interlocked as they were, the strong fish-hook at the end of a silken cord, which rose towards them from the depths of the water. In another moment it had embedded itself in the body of the pike that had dined, and the two struggling fish found themselves drawn out of the water and laid together on the grass without the least deference.

As he killed them Ulenspiegel said:

“Ha ha, my little pikes, I will call you the Pope and the Emperor, that prey ever one upon the other; but I, forsooth, am the Common Man that shall catch you on his hook, in God’s good time, and make an end of your battles!”

XXVIIIIn the meantime Nele was taking care of Katheline, who was still out of her mind and who called continually upon Hanske, her ice-cold lover. But sometimes Nele would leave her mother safely guarded in the house of some kindly neighbour, and herself would wander far and wide and all alone, even unto Antwerp, searching ever, among the ships on the river, or along the dusty roads, for Ulenspiegel.And at home, also, in the house of Claes, it was evil days. Claes worked sadly on his land alone, for there was not enough work for two. And Soetkin stayed in the cottage by herself, cooking the beans which formed their daily fare in a hundred different ways, so that she might have something to enliven her husband’s appetite. And she sang and laughed all the time, so that he might not be grieved by seeing her unhappy.One day a man on horseback drew up in front of the cottage. He was dressed all in black, he was very thin, and very sad of countenance.“Is any one within?” he asked.“God bless your sadness,” answered Soetkin, “but am I a phantom, that seeing me here you must yet inquire if there is any one within?”“Where is your father?” asked the horseman.“If my father’s name is Claes, he is over there,” Soetkin told him. “You will find him sowing corn.”The horseman departed in the direction in which she had pointed, and Soetkin also went her way ruefully, for this was the sixth time that she had had to go to the baker’s to buy bread with no money to pay for it.On returning empty-handed to the cottage, Soetkin was amazed to see Claes coming down the road triumphantly seated on the horse of the man in black. He looked very proud of himself, and the man in black walked by his sideholding the horse’s bridle. Hanging at his side, Claes held a leathern bag which appeared to be full of things. Dismounting from the horse, Claes embraced his companion, gave him a playful pat upon the back, and then, shaking the bag, cried out in a loud voice:“Long life to Josse, my brother, the good hermit of Meyborg! May God keep him in joy and fatness, in happiness and health! Our Josse, patron of plenty, and of all abundance, and rich soups!”And so saying he took up the sack and deposited it upon the table. But Soetkin said sadly:“My good man, we shall not eat this day. The baker has refused to give me any bread.”“Bread?” cried Claes, opening the sack and letting a river of golden coins roll out on the table. “Bread? Here is bread and butter, meat, wine, beer! Here are hams, marrow-bones, pasties, ortolans, fatted poulets, castrelins, all just as you might find them in the houses of the rich! Bread indeed! Here are casks of beer and kegs of wine! Mad must be the baker who will refuse to give us bread. Verily we will deal at his shop no more!”“But, my good man!” said Soetkin amazed.“Nay, listen,” said Claes, “and make the most of your good fortune. For these are the facts. Katheline, it seems, has lately been to Meyborg in Germany, and Nele with her, on a visit to my eldest brother Josse, who dwells there as a hermit. Nele told my brother how that we were living in poverty, notwithstanding that we work so hard. And now, if we are to believe this good messenger”—and here Claes pointed to the black horseman—“Josse has left the holy Roman religion and abandoned himself to the heresy of Luther.”The man in black made answer:“It is they that are heretics, they who follow the cult of the Scarlet Woman. For the Pope is a cheat and a trader in holy things.”“Oh!” cried Soetkin, “speak not so loud, sir. You will have us burned alive, all three.”“Well,” continued Claes, “it appears that Josse has made known to this good messenger that inasmuch as he is going to fight in the army of Frederic of Saxony, and is bringing him fifty armed men fully equipped, he has no need of much money to leave it to the hands of some wretch of a landsknecht, now that he himself is going to the war. Therefore, says he, take it to my brother Claes, and render to him, with my blessing, these seven hundred florins. Tell him to live virtuously, and to ponder the salvation of his soul.”“Yea, verily,” said the horseman, “now is the time. For God will reward every man according to his works, and every man according to his merit.”“Good sir,” said Claes, “it is not forbidden, I trust, to rejoice in the meantime at this good news? Deign, then, to stay with us, and we will celebrate our fortune with a nice dinner of tripe, well boiled, and a knuckle of that ham which I saw just now at the pork-butcher’s. Of a truth, it looked so plump and tasty that my teeth almost shot out of my mouth to close thereon.”“Alas!” said the stranger, “the foolish make merry while the eye of the Lord is yet upon them.”“Come now, messenger,” said Claes, “will you eat and drink with us or will you not?”The man answered: “It will be time enough for the faithful to think about such earthly joys when mighty Babylon has fallen.”Seeing Claes and Soetkin cross themselves, he made as though to leave them. But Claes said to him:“Since you persist in leaving us without accepting of our hospitality, will you at least give to my brother the kiss of peace on my behalf, and look after him well at the wars.”“That will I,” said the man.And he departed from them, while Soetkin went to make her preparations for celebrating their good fortune.Now it was quickly noised abroad through the town that Claes that was once so poor had now become rich through the generosity of his brother Josse. And the Dean of Damme was heard to say that it was Katheline no doubt who had laid a charm on Josse, and he said this because Claes, although he had received a large sum of money from his brother, had given not so much as a single vestment to Notre Dame. But Claes and Soetkin were happy again, Claes working in the fields or looking after his business of charcoal-burning, while Soetkin attended to her home right valiantly. Yet still was she sorrowful at heart, scanning ever with her eyes the open road if perchance she might see her son Ulenspiegel returning back to her. And thus it was these three lived on and experienced the happiness which comes from God while waiting for that which was going to come to them from men.

XXVIII

In the meantime Nele was taking care of Katheline, who was still out of her mind and who called continually upon Hanske, her ice-cold lover. But sometimes Nele would leave her mother safely guarded in the house of some kindly neighbour, and herself would wander far and wide and all alone, even unto Antwerp, searching ever, among the ships on the river, or along the dusty roads, for Ulenspiegel.And at home, also, in the house of Claes, it was evil days. Claes worked sadly on his land alone, for there was not enough work for two. And Soetkin stayed in the cottage by herself, cooking the beans which formed their daily fare in a hundred different ways, so that she might have something to enliven her husband’s appetite. And she sang and laughed all the time, so that he might not be grieved by seeing her unhappy.One day a man on horseback drew up in front of the cottage. He was dressed all in black, he was very thin, and very sad of countenance.“Is any one within?” he asked.“God bless your sadness,” answered Soetkin, “but am I a phantom, that seeing me here you must yet inquire if there is any one within?”“Where is your father?” asked the horseman.“If my father’s name is Claes, he is over there,” Soetkin told him. “You will find him sowing corn.”The horseman departed in the direction in which she had pointed, and Soetkin also went her way ruefully, for this was the sixth time that she had had to go to the baker’s to buy bread with no money to pay for it.On returning empty-handed to the cottage, Soetkin was amazed to see Claes coming down the road triumphantly seated on the horse of the man in black. He looked very proud of himself, and the man in black walked by his sideholding the horse’s bridle. Hanging at his side, Claes held a leathern bag which appeared to be full of things. Dismounting from the horse, Claes embraced his companion, gave him a playful pat upon the back, and then, shaking the bag, cried out in a loud voice:“Long life to Josse, my brother, the good hermit of Meyborg! May God keep him in joy and fatness, in happiness and health! Our Josse, patron of plenty, and of all abundance, and rich soups!”And so saying he took up the sack and deposited it upon the table. But Soetkin said sadly:“My good man, we shall not eat this day. The baker has refused to give me any bread.”“Bread?” cried Claes, opening the sack and letting a river of golden coins roll out on the table. “Bread? Here is bread and butter, meat, wine, beer! Here are hams, marrow-bones, pasties, ortolans, fatted poulets, castrelins, all just as you might find them in the houses of the rich! Bread indeed! Here are casks of beer and kegs of wine! Mad must be the baker who will refuse to give us bread. Verily we will deal at his shop no more!”“But, my good man!” said Soetkin amazed.“Nay, listen,” said Claes, “and make the most of your good fortune. For these are the facts. Katheline, it seems, has lately been to Meyborg in Germany, and Nele with her, on a visit to my eldest brother Josse, who dwells there as a hermit. Nele told my brother how that we were living in poverty, notwithstanding that we work so hard. And now, if we are to believe this good messenger”—and here Claes pointed to the black horseman—“Josse has left the holy Roman religion and abandoned himself to the heresy of Luther.”The man in black made answer:“It is they that are heretics, they who follow the cult of the Scarlet Woman. For the Pope is a cheat and a trader in holy things.”“Oh!” cried Soetkin, “speak not so loud, sir. You will have us burned alive, all three.”“Well,” continued Claes, “it appears that Josse has made known to this good messenger that inasmuch as he is going to fight in the army of Frederic of Saxony, and is bringing him fifty armed men fully equipped, he has no need of much money to leave it to the hands of some wretch of a landsknecht, now that he himself is going to the war. Therefore, says he, take it to my brother Claes, and render to him, with my blessing, these seven hundred florins. Tell him to live virtuously, and to ponder the salvation of his soul.”“Yea, verily,” said the horseman, “now is the time. For God will reward every man according to his works, and every man according to his merit.”“Good sir,” said Claes, “it is not forbidden, I trust, to rejoice in the meantime at this good news? Deign, then, to stay with us, and we will celebrate our fortune with a nice dinner of tripe, well boiled, and a knuckle of that ham which I saw just now at the pork-butcher’s. Of a truth, it looked so plump and tasty that my teeth almost shot out of my mouth to close thereon.”“Alas!” said the stranger, “the foolish make merry while the eye of the Lord is yet upon them.”“Come now, messenger,” said Claes, “will you eat and drink with us or will you not?”The man answered: “It will be time enough for the faithful to think about such earthly joys when mighty Babylon has fallen.”Seeing Claes and Soetkin cross themselves, he made as though to leave them. But Claes said to him:“Since you persist in leaving us without accepting of our hospitality, will you at least give to my brother the kiss of peace on my behalf, and look after him well at the wars.”“That will I,” said the man.And he departed from them, while Soetkin went to make her preparations for celebrating their good fortune.Now it was quickly noised abroad through the town that Claes that was once so poor had now become rich through the generosity of his brother Josse. And the Dean of Damme was heard to say that it was Katheline no doubt who had laid a charm on Josse, and he said this because Claes, although he had received a large sum of money from his brother, had given not so much as a single vestment to Notre Dame. But Claes and Soetkin were happy again, Claes working in the fields or looking after his business of charcoal-burning, while Soetkin attended to her home right valiantly. Yet still was she sorrowful at heart, scanning ever with her eyes the open road if perchance she might see her son Ulenspiegel returning back to her. And thus it was these three lived on and experienced the happiness which comes from God while waiting for that which was going to come to them from men.

In the meantime Nele was taking care of Katheline, who was still out of her mind and who called continually upon Hanske, her ice-cold lover. But sometimes Nele would leave her mother safely guarded in the house of some kindly neighbour, and herself would wander far and wide and all alone, even unto Antwerp, searching ever, among the ships on the river, or along the dusty roads, for Ulenspiegel.

And at home, also, in the house of Claes, it was evil days. Claes worked sadly on his land alone, for there was not enough work for two. And Soetkin stayed in the cottage by herself, cooking the beans which formed their daily fare in a hundred different ways, so that she might have something to enliven her husband’s appetite. And she sang and laughed all the time, so that he might not be grieved by seeing her unhappy.

One day a man on horseback drew up in front of the cottage. He was dressed all in black, he was very thin, and very sad of countenance.

“Is any one within?” he asked.

“God bless your sadness,” answered Soetkin, “but am I a phantom, that seeing me here you must yet inquire if there is any one within?”

“Where is your father?” asked the horseman.

“If my father’s name is Claes, he is over there,” Soetkin told him. “You will find him sowing corn.”

The horseman departed in the direction in which she had pointed, and Soetkin also went her way ruefully, for this was the sixth time that she had had to go to the baker’s to buy bread with no money to pay for it.

On returning empty-handed to the cottage, Soetkin was amazed to see Claes coming down the road triumphantly seated on the horse of the man in black. He looked very proud of himself, and the man in black walked by his sideholding the horse’s bridle. Hanging at his side, Claes held a leathern bag which appeared to be full of things. Dismounting from the horse, Claes embraced his companion, gave him a playful pat upon the back, and then, shaking the bag, cried out in a loud voice:

“Long life to Josse, my brother, the good hermit of Meyborg! May God keep him in joy and fatness, in happiness and health! Our Josse, patron of plenty, and of all abundance, and rich soups!”

And so saying he took up the sack and deposited it upon the table. But Soetkin said sadly:

“My good man, we shall not eat this day. The baker has refused to give me any bread.”

“Bread?” cried Claes, opening the sack and letting a river of golden coins roll out on the table. “Bread? Here is bread and butter, meat, wine, beer! Here are hams, marrow-bones, pasties, ortolans, fatted poulets, castrelins, all just as you might find them in the houses of the rich! Bread indeed! Here are casks of beer and kegs of wine! Mad must be the baker who will refuse to give us bread. Verily we will deal at his shop no more!”

“But, my good man!” said Soetkin amazed.

“Nay, listen,” said Claes, “and make the most of your good fortune. For these are the facts. Katheline, it seems, has lately been to Meyborg in Germany, and Nele with her, on a visit to my eldest brother Josse, who dwells there as a hermit. Nele told my brother how that we were living in poverty, notwithstanding that we work so hard. And now, if we are to believe this good messenger”—and here Claes pointed to the black horseman—“Josse has left the holy Roman religion and abandoned himself to the heresy of Luther.”

The man in black made answer:

“It is they that are heretics, they who follow the cult of the Scarlet Woman. For the Pope is a cheat and a trader in holy things.”

“Oh!” cried Soetkin, “speak not so loud, sir. You will have us burned alive, all three.”

“Well,” continued Claes, “it appears that Josse has made known to this good messenger that inasmuch as he is going to fight in the army of Frederic of Saxony, and is bringing him fifty armed men fully equipped, he has no need of much money to leave it to the hands of some wretch of a landsknecht, now that he himself is going to the war. Therefore, says he, take it to my brother Claes, and render to him, with my blessing, these seven hundred florins. Tell him to live virtuously, and to ponder the salvation of his soul.”

“Yea, verily,” said the horseman, “now is the time. For God will reward every man according to his works, and every man according to his merit.”

“Good sir,” said Claes, “it is not forbidden, I trust, to rejoice in the meantime at this good news? Deign, then, to stay with us, and we will celebrate our fortune with a nice dinner of tripe, well boiled, and a knuckle of that ham which I saw just now at the pork-butcher’s. Of a truth, it looked so plump and tasty that my teeth almost shot out of my mouth to close thereon.”

“Alas!” said the stranger, “the foolish make merry while the eye of the Lord is yet upon them.”

“Come now, messenger,” said Claes, “will you eat and drink with us or will you not?”

The man answered: “It will be time enough for the faithful to think about such earthly joys when mighty Babylon has fallen.”

Seeing Claes and Soetkin cross themselves, he made as though to leave them. But Claes said to him:

“Since you persist in leaving us without accepting of our hospitality, will you at least give to my brother the kiss of peace on my behalf, and look after him well at the wars.”

“That will I,” said the man.

And he departed from them, while Soetkin went to make her preparations for celebrating their good fortune.

Now it was quickly noised abroad through the town that Claes that was once so poor had now become rich through the generosity of his brother Josse. And the Dean of Damme was heard to say that it was Katheline no doubt who had laid a charm on Josse, and he said this because Claes, although he had received a large sum of money from his brother, had given not so much as a single vestment to Notre Dame. But Claes and Soetkin were happy again, Claes working in the fields or looking after his business of charcoal-burning, while Soetkin attended to her home right valiantly. Yet still was she sorrowful at heart, scanning ever with her eyes the open road if perchance she might see her son Ulenspiegel returning back to her. And thus it was these three lived on and experienced the happiness which comes from God while waiting for that which was going to come to them from men.

XXIXThe Emperor Charles had received a letter from England, from Philip, who was now married to the Queen of that country.“Sir and Father,” the letter ran,—“It is matter of sore displeasure to me that I should have to live in a country like this where the accursed heretics swarm like fleas and worms and locusts. Fire and sword are needed to remove them from the trunk of that tree of life which is our Holy Mother the Church. And, as if this were not trouble enough, I have also to put up with being regarded not as a King but merely as the husband of the Queen; for in very truth apart from her I am destitute of all authority. And the English make mock of me, spreading broadcast the most shameful pamphlets which assert that I am being bribed by the Pope to afflict their country with every kind of impious burning and persecution.Nor can I discover who it is that writes these pamphlets, nor yet who prints them. And when I try to raise from the people some necessary contribution (for in their malice and wickedness they often leave me without any money at all), they answer by advising me, in coarse lampoons, to ask of Satan in whose pay I am. Parliament makes excuses for fear of my sting, but I can get nothing out of them. And meanwhile the walls of London are covered with the grossest pictures representing me as a parricide who is ready to strike down your Majesty for the sake of my inheritance. But well you know, my Lord and Father, that notwithstanding all the hopes of a legitimate ambition, I most certainly desire that your Majesty may enjoy yet long and glorious years of rule. Furthermore, there are circulating through the city certain engravings on copper which show me torturing animals and laughing the while. But well you know, Sire, that if ever it has happened to me to taste this profane pleasure, I have surely never laughed thereat. But they try to make out that this innocent sport is a sort of crime, despite the fact that animals have no souls, and although it is assuredly permitted to all men, especially if they be of Royal birth, to make use of brute beasts even unto death for purposes of honest recreation. But in this land of England the people are so fond of animals that they treat their animals better than their own servants. The stables and dog-kennels are kept like palaces, and I have known great lords who pass the night on the same litter with their horse. To crown all, my noble Wife and Queen is barren, and these people have the outrageous effrontery to declare that I am to blame and not she, who is in other respects a most jealous and intractable woman, and amorous to excess. Sir and Father, I pray daily that the Lord God may have me in his grace, and I live in hopes that another throne may be given me, even though it be with the Turk, what time I still await that other gloriousthrone to which I shall be one day called by the honour of being the son of your very Glorious and Victorious Majesty.(Signed)Phle.”To this letter the Emperor made reply in the following terms:“Sir and Son,—You have bitter enemies, I do not dispute it; but you must try to endure them without vexation in anticipation of the yet more brilliant crown that shall be yours hereafter. I have already made it widely known that I am determined to retire from my lordship over the Low Countries and other of my dominions, for I am growing old and gouty, and I know that I shall not long be able to withstand King Henry the Second of France, for Fortune ever favours the young. You should remember also that so long as you are master of England, you will be as a thorn in the side of our enemy France. Truly I suffered a nasty defeat at Metz, and lost there near forty thousand men. I was compelled to retreat before the King of Saxony. If God does not soon see fit by a stroke of His good and divine will to re-establish me in the force and vigour of my prime, I am inclined, Sir and Son, to quit my kingdoms altogether and to leave them to you.“Have patience therefore, and do your duty meanwhile against the heretics, sparing none of them, man, woman, girl, or child, for I am credibly informed that Madame your Queen has been minded to treat them mercifully, and this is a great grief to me.“Your affectionate father,“(Signed)Charles.”

XXIX

The Emperor Charles had received a letter from England, from Philip, who was now married to the Queen of that country.“Sir and Father,” the letter ran,—“It is matter of sore displeasure to me that I should have to live in a country like this where the accursed heretics swarm like fleas and worms and locusts. Fire and sword are needed to remove them from the trunk of that tree of life which is our Holy Mother the Church. And, as if this were not trouble enough, I have also to put up with being regarded not as a King but merely as the husband of the Queen; for in very truth apart from her I am destitute of all authority. And the English make mock of me, spreading broadcast the most shameful pamphlets which assert that I am being bribed by the Pope to afflict their country with every kind of impious burning and persecution.Nor can I discover who it is that writes these pamphlets, nor yet who prints them. And when I try to raise from the people some necessary contribution (for in their malice and wickedness they often leave me without any money at all), they answer by advising me, in coarse lampoons, to ask of Satan in whose pay I am. Parliament makes excuses for fear of my sting, but I can get nothing out of them. And meanwhile the walls of London are covered with the grossest pictures representing me as a parricide who is ready to strike down your Majesty for the sake of my inheritance. But well you know, my Lord and Father, that notwithstanding all the hopes of a legitimate ambition, I most certainly desire that your Majesty may enjoy yet long and glorious years of rule. Furthermore, there are circulating through the city certain engravings on copper which show me torturing animals and laughing the while. But well you know, Sire, that if ever it has happened to me to taste this profane pleasure, I have surely never laughed thereat. But they try to make out that this innocent sport is a sort of crime, despite the fact that animals have no souls, and although it is assuredly permitted to all men, especially if they be of Royal birth, to make use of brute beasts even unto death for purposes of honest recreation. But in this land of England the people are so fond of animals that they treat their animals better than their own servants. The stables and dog-kennels are kept like palaces, and I have known great lords who pass the night on the same litter with their horse. To crown all, my noble Wife and Queen is barren, and these people have the outrageous effrontery to declare that I am to blame and not she, who is in other respects a most jealous and intractable woman, and amorous to excess. Sir and Father, I pray daily that the Lord God may have me in his grace, and I live in hopes that another throne may be given me, even though it be with the Turk, what time I still await that other gloriousthrone to which I shall be one day called by the honour of being the son of your very Glorious and Victorious Majesty.(Signed)Phle.”To this letter the Emperor made reply in the following terms:“Sir and Son,—You have bitter enemies, I do not dispute it; but you must try to endure them without vexation in anticipation of the yet more brilliant crown that shall be yours hereafter. I have already made it widely known that I am determined to retire from my lordship over the Low Countries and other of my dominions, for I am growing old and gouty, and I know that I shall not long be able to withstand King Henry the Second of France, for Fortune ever favours the young. You should remember also that so long as you are master of England, you will be as a thorn in the side of our enemy France. Truly I suffered a nasty defeat at Metz, and lost there near forty thousand men. I was compelled to retreat before the King of Saxony. If God does not soon see fit by a stroke of His good and divine will to re-establish me in the force and vigour of my prime, I am inclined, Sir and Son, to quit my kingdoms altogether and to leave them to you.“Have patience therefore, and do your duty meanwhile against the heretics, sparing none of them, man, woman, girl, or child, for I am credibly informed that Madame your Queen has been minded to treat them mercifully, and this is a great grief to me.“Your affectionate father,“(Signed)Charles.”

The Emperor Charles had received a letter from England, from Philip, who was now married to the Queen of that country.

“Sir and Father,” the letter ran,—“It is matter of sore displeasure to me that I should have to live in a country like this where the accursed heretics swarm like fleas and worms and locusts. Fire and sword are needed to remove them from the trunk of that tree of life which is our Holy Mother the Church. And, as if this were not trouble enough, I have also to put up with being regarded not as a King but merely as the husband of the Queen; for in very truth apart from her I am destitute of all authority. And the English make mock of me, spreading broadcast the most shameful pamphlets which assert that I am being bribed by the Pope to afflict their country with every kind of impious burning and persecution.Nor can I discover who it is that writes these pamphlets, nor yet who prints them. And when I try to raise from the people some necessary contribution (for in their malice and wickedness they often leave me without any money at all), they answer by advising me, in coarse lampoons, to ask of Satan in whose pay I am. Parliament makes excuses for fear of my sting, but I can get nothing out of them. And meanwhile the walls of London are covered with the grossest pictures representing me as a parricide who is ready to strike down your Majesty for the sake of my inheritance. But well you know, my Lord and Father, that notwithstanding all the hopes of a legitimate ambition, I most certainly desire that your Majesty may enjoy yet long and glorious years of rule. Furthermore, there are circulating through the city certain engravings on copper which show me torturing animals and laughing the while. But well you know, Sire, that if ever it has happened to me to taste this profane pleasure, I have surely never laughed thereat. But they try to make out that this innocent sport is a sort of crime, despite the fact that animals have no souls, and although it is assuredly permitted to all men, especially if they be of Royal birth, to make use of brute beasts even unto death for purposes of honest recreation. But in this land of England the people are so fond of animals that they treat their animals better than their own servants. The stables and dog-kennels are kept like palaces, and I have known great lords who pass the night on the same litter with their horse. To crown all, my noble Wife and Queen is barren, and these people have the outrageous effrontery to declare that I am to blame and not she, who is in other respects a most jealous and intractable woman, and amorous to excess. Sir and Father, I pray daily that the Lord God may have me in his grace, and I live in hopes that another throne may be given me, even though it be with the Turk, what time I still await that other gloriousthrone to which I shall be one day called by the honour of being the son of your very Glorious and Victorious Majesty.(Signed)Phle.”

“Sir and Father,” the letter ran,—“It is matter of sore displeasure to me that I should have to live in a country like this where the accursed heretics swarm like fleas and worms and locusts. Fire and sword are needed to remove them from the trunk of that tree of life which is our Holy Mother the Church. And, as if this were not trouble enough, I have also to put up with being regarded not as a King but merely as the husband of the Queen; for in very truth apart from her I am destitute of all authority. And the English make mock of me, spreading broadcast the most shameful pamphlets which assert that I am being bribed by the Pope to afflict their country with every kind of impious burning and persecution.Nor can I discover who it is that writes these pamphlets, nor yet who prints them. And when I try to raise from the people some necessary contribution (for in their malice and wickedness they often leave me without any money at all), they answer by advising me, in coarse lampoons, to ask of Satan in whose pay I am. Parliament makes excuses for fear of my sting, but I can get nothing out of them. And meanwhile the walls of London are covered with the grossest pictures representing me as a parricide who is ready to strike down your Majesty for the sake of my inheritance. But well you know, my Lord and Father, that notwithstanding all the hopes of a legitimate ambition, I most certainly desire that your Majesty may enjoy yet long and glorious years of rule. Furthermore, there are circulating through the city certain engravings on copper which show me torturing animals and laughing the while. But well you know, Sire, that if ever it has happened to me to taste this profane pleasure, I have surely never laughed thereat. But they try to make out that this innocent sport is a sort of crime, despite the fact that animals have no souls, and although it is assuredly permitted to all men, especially if they be of Royal birth, to make use of brute beasts even unto death for purposes of honest recreation. But in this land of England the people are so fond of animals that they treat their animals better than their own servants. The stables and dog-kennels are kept like palaces, and I have known great lords who pass the night on the same litter with their horse. To crown all, my noble Wife and Queen is barren, and these people have the outrageous effrontery to declare that I am to blame and not she, who is in other respects a most jealous and intractable woman, and amorous to excess. Sir and Father, I pray daily that the Lord God may have me in his grace, and I live in hopes that another throne may be given me, even though it be with the Turk, what time I still await that other gloriousthrone to which I shall be one day called by the honour of being the son of your very Glorious and Victorious Majesty.

(Signed)Phle.”

To this letter the Emperor made reply in the following terms:

“Sir and Son,—You have bitter enemies, I do not dispute it; but you must try to endure them without vexation in anticipation of the yet more brilliant crown that shall be yours hereafter. I have already made it widely known that I am determined to retire from my lordship over the Low Countries and other of my dominions, for I am growing old and gouty, and I know that I shall not long be able to withstand King Henry the Second of France, for Fortune ever favours the young. You should remember also that so long as you are master of England, you will be as a thorn in the side of our enemy France. Truly I suffered a nasty defeat at Metz, and lost there near forty thousand men. I was compelled to retreat before the King of Saxony. If God does not soon see fit by a stroke of His good and divine will to re-establish me in the force and vigour of my prime, I am inclined, Sir and Son, to quit my kingdoms altogether and to leave them to you.“Have patience therefore, and do your duty meanwhile against the heretics, sparing none of them, man, woman, girl, or child, for I am credibly informed that Madame your Queen has been minded to treat them mercifully, and this is a great grief to me.“Your affectionate father,“(Signed)Charles.”

“Sir and Son,—You have bitter enemies, I do not dispute it; but you must try to endure them without vexation in anticipation of the yet more brilliant crown that shall be yours hereafter. I have already made it widely known that I am determined to retire from my lordship over the Low Countries and other of my dominions, for I am growing old and gouty, and I know that I shall not long be able to withstand King Henry the Second of France, for Fortune ever favours the young. You should remember also that so long as you are master of England, you will be as a thorn in the side of our enemy France. Truly I suffered a nasty defeat at Metz, and lost there near forty thousand men. I was compelled to retreat before the King of Saxony. If God does not soon see fit by a stroke of His good and divine will to re-establish me in the force and vigour of my prime, I am inclined, Sir and Son, to quit my kingdoms altogether and to leave them to you.

“Have patience therefore, and do your duty meanwhile against the heretics, sparing none of them, man, woman, girl, or child, for I am credibly informed that Madame your Queen has been minded to treat them mercifully, and this is a great grief to me.

“Your affectionate father,

“(Signed)Charles.”

XXXUlenspiegel had been long upon the road. His feet were bleeding, but in the district of the bishopric of Mayence hemet a wagon full of pilgrims who invited him to join them, and they carried him with them to Rome.When they arrived at the city Ulenspiegel got down from the wagon, and straightway noticed a charming-looking woman standing at the door of an inn. She smiled when she saw him looking at her.Taking this kindly humour of hers for a good omen:“Hostess,” says he, “will you give asile, pray, to a poor pilgrim on pilgrimage who has carried his full time and is about to be delivered of his sins?”“We give asile to all such as pay us for it,” said the woman.I have a hundred ducats in my purse,” said Ulenspiegel (who, in fact, had no more than one), “and I would dearly like to spend the first of them in your pleasant company and over a bottle of old Roman wine.”“Wine is not dear in these holy parts,” she answered. “Come in and drink your fill. It will only cost you asoldo.”And they twain drank together for so long, and emptied so many bottles of wine and all to the tune of such pleasant conversation, that the hostess was constrained to order her servant to serve the customers in her place, while she and Ulenspiegel retired into a room at the back of the inn, a marble chamber, cool as a winter’s day, where, leaning her head on her new friend’s shoulder, she demanded of him who he might be.And Ulenspiegel answered her:“I am Lord of Geeland, Count of Gavergeëten, Baron of Tuchtendeel. I was born at Damme, in Flanders, and I hold there for my estate five and twenty acres of moonlight.”“What land is that whence you come?” the hostess asked him, drinking from Ulenspiegel’s tankard.“It is a misty land,” he told her, “a land of illusion, where are sown the seeds of false hopes and of castles in theair. But you, sweet hostess mine, were born in no such land of moonlight, you with your amber skin and your eyes that shine like pearls. For bright is the sunshine that has coloured that browned gold of your hair, and it is Lady Venus herself who, without a single pang of jealousy, has formed your soft shoulders, and your prancing breasts, your rounded arms, your delicate sweet hands. Say, shall we sup together this night?”“Fine pilgrim that you are from Flanders,” says she, “say, why are you come hither?”“To have a talk with the Pope,” said Ulenspiegel.“Heavens!” she cried, clasping her hands together, “and that is something that even myself, a native of the country, have never been able to do!”“Yet shall I,” said Ulenspiegel.“But know you where the Pope lives, what he is like, what are his habits and his ways of life?”“I heard all about him on the way,” answered Ulenspiegel. “His name is Julius III. Wanton he is, and gay and dissolute, a good talker, that never falters for a clever repartee. I have also heard that he has taken an extraordinary fancy to a little dirty beggar of a man—a dark fellow and a rude who used to wander about with a monkey asking for alms. He came to the Pope, and the Pope, it seems, has made a Cardinal of him, and now gets quite ill if a single day passes without their meeting.”“Have some more to drink,” said the landlady, “and do not speak so loud.”“I have also heard,” continued Ulenspiegel, “that one day he swore like a soldier,Al dispetto di Dio, potta di Dio, and all because they did not bring him the cold peacock that he had ordered to be kept for his supper. And he excused himself, saying, ‘If my Master was angered over an apple, I, who am the vicar of God, can certainly swear an oath about a pheasant!’ You see, my pet, I know the Pope very well, and understand just what sort of a man he is!”“Oh dear,” she said, “pray be careful and do not tell this to any one else. But still, and in spite of all you tell me, I maintain that you will not get to see him.”“I shall,” said Ulenspiegel.“I will wager you a hundred florins.”“They are mine!” said Ulenspiegel.The very next day, tired as he was, he ran through all the city and found out that the Pope was to say Mass that morning at the Church of St. John Lateran. Thither Ulenspiegel repaired, and took up a position as prominently in the Pope’s view as he could. And every time that the Pope elevated chalice or Host, Ulenspiegel turned his back to the altar. Now one of the cardinals was officiating with the Pope, swarthy of countenance he was, malicious and corpulent; and on his shoulder he carried a monkey. He reported Ulenspiegel’s behaviour to the Pope, who straightway after Mass sent four terrible-looking soldiers (such as one finds in those warlike lands) to seize the pilgrim.“What religion do you profess?” the Pope asked him.“Most Holy Father,” answered Ulenspiegel, “my religion is the same as my landlady’s.”The Pope had the woman fetched.“What is your religion?” he asked her.“The same as your Holiness’s,” she told him.“That also is mine,” said Ulenspiegel.The Pope asked him why he turned his back upon the Holy Sacrament.“I felt myself unworthy to look upon it face to face,” he answered.“You are a pilgrim?” said the Pope.“Yes,” answered Ulenspiegel, “and I am come from Flanders to beg remission of my sins.”The Pope absolved and blessed him, and Ulenspiegel departed in the company of his landlady, who paid over to him his hundred florins. And with this good store of moneyhe departed from Rome and set out to return again to the land of Flanders.But he had to pay seven ducats for the certificate of his pardon, all scribed upon parchment.

XXX

Ulenspiegel had been long upon the road. His feet were bleeding, but in the district of the bishopric of Mayence hemet a wagon full of pilgrims who invited him to join them, and they carried him with them to Rome.When they arrived at the city Ulenspiegel got down from the wagon, and straightway noticed a charming-looking woman standing at the door of an inn. She smiled when she saw him looking at her.Taking this kindly humour of hers for a good omen:“Hostess,” says he, “will you give asile, pray, to a poor pilgrim on pilgrimage who has carried his full time and is about to be delivered of his sins?”“We give asile to all such as pay us for it,” said the woman.I have a hundred ducats in my purse,” said Ulenspiegel (who, in fact, had no more than one), “and I would dearly like to spend the first of them in your pleasant company and over a bottle of old Roman wine.”“Wine is not dear in these holy parts,” she answered. “Come in and drink your fill. It will only cost you asoldo.”And they twain drank together for so long, and emptied so many bottles of wine and all to the tune of such pleasant conversation, that the hostess was constrained to order her servant to serve the customers in her place, while she and Ulenspiegel retired into a room at the back of the inn, a marble chamber, cool as a winter’s day, where, leaning her head on her new friend’s shoulder, she demanded of him who he might be.And Ulenspiegel answered her:“I am Lord of Geeland, Count of Gavergeëten, Baron of Tuchtendeel. I was born at Damme, in Flanders, and I hold there for my estate five and twenty acres of moonlight.”“What land is that whence you come?” the hostess asked him, drinking from Ulenspiegel’s tankard.“It is a misty land,” he told her, “a land of illusion, where are sown the seeds of false hopes and of castles in theair. But you, sweet hostess mine, were born in no such land of moonlight, you with your amber skin and your eyes that shine like pearls. For bright is the sunshine that has coloured that browned gold of your hair, and it is Lady Venus herself who, without a single pang of jealousy, has formed your soft shoulders, and your prancing breasts, your rounded arms, your delicate sweet hands. Say, shall we sup together this night?”“Fine pilgrim that you are from Flanders,” says she, “say, why are you come hither?”“To have a talk with the Pope,” said Ulenspiegel.“Heavens!” she cried, clasping her hands together, “and that is something that even myself, a native of the country, have never been able to do!”“Yet shall I,” said Ulenspiegel.“But know you where the Pope lives, what he is like, what are his habits and his ways of life?”“I heard all about him on the way,” answered Ulenspiegel. “His name is Julius III. Wanton he is, and gay and dissolute, a good talker, that never falters for a clever repartee. I have also heard that he has taken an extraordinary fancy to a little dirty beggar of a man—a dark fellow and a rude who used to wander about with a monkey asking for alms. He came to the Pope, and the Pope, it seems, has made a Cardinal of him, and now gets quite ill if a single day passes without their meeting.”“Have some more to drink,” said the landlady, “and do not speak so loud.”“I have also heard,” continued Ulenspiegel, “that one day he swore like a soldier,Al dispetto di Dio, potta di Dio, and all because they did not bring him the cold peacock that he had ordered to be kept for his supper. And he excused himself, saying, ‘If my Master was angered over an apple, I, who am the vicar of God, can certainly swear an oath about a pheasant!’ You see, my pet, I know the Pope very well, and understand just what sort of a man he is!”“Oh dear,” she said, “pray be careful and do not tell this to any one else. But still, and in spite of all you tell me, I maintain that you will not get to see him.”“I shall,” said Ulenspiegel.“I will wager you a hundred florins.”“They are mine!” said Ulenspiegel.The very next day, tired as he was, he ran through all the city and found out that the Pope was to say Mass that morning at the Church of St. John Lateran. Thither Ulenspiegel repaired, and took up a position as prominently in the Pope’s view as he could. And every time that the Pope elevated chalice or Host, Ulenspiegel turned his back to the altar. Now one of the cardinals was officiating with the Pope, swarthy of countenance he was, malicious and corpulent; and on his shoulder he carried a monkey. He reported Ulenspiegel’s behaviour to the Pope, who straightway after Mass sent four terrible-looking soldiers (such as one finds in those warlike lands) to seize the pilgrim.“What religion do you profess?” the Pope asked him.“Most Holy Father,” answered Ulenspiegel, “my religion is the same as my landlady’s.”The Pope had the woman fetched.“What is your religion?” he asked her.“The same as your Holiness’s,” she told him.“That also is mine,” said Ulenspiegel.The Pope asked him why he turned his back upon the Holy Sacrament.“I felt myself unworthy to look upon it face to face,” he answered.“You are a pilgrim?” said the Pope.“Yes,” answered Ulenspiegel, “and I am come from Flanders to beg remission of my sins.”The Pope absolved and blessed him, and Ulenspiegel departed in the company of his landlady, who paid over to him his hundred florins. And with this good store of moneyhe departed from Rome and set out to return again to the land of Flanders.But he had to pay seven ducats for the certificate of his pardon, all scribed upon parchment.

Ulenspiegel had been long upon the road. His feet were bleeding, but in the district of the bishopric of Mayence hemet a wagon full of pilgrims who invited him to join them, and they carried him with them to Rome.

When they arrived at the city Ulenspiegel got down from the wagon, and straightway noticed a charming-looking woman standing at the door of an inn. She smiled when she saw him looking at her.

Taking this kindly humour of hers for a good omen:

“Hostess,” says he, “will you give asile, pray, to a poor pilgrim on pilgrimage who has carried his full time and is about to be delivered of his sins?”

“We give asile to all such as pay us for it,” said the woman.

I have a hundred ducats in my purse,” said Ulenspiegel (who, in fact, had no more than one), “and I would dearly like to spend the first of them in your pleasant company and over a bottle of old Roman wine.”

“Wine is not dear in these holy parts,” she answered. “Come in and drink your fill. It will only cost you asoldo.”

And they twain drank together for so long, and emptied so many bottles of wine and all to the tune of such pleasant conversation, that the hostess was constrained to order her servant to serve the customers in her place, while she and Ulenspiegel retired into a room at the back of the inn, a marble chamber, cool as a winter’s day, where, leaning her head on her new friend’s shoulder, she demanded of him who he might be.

And Ulenspiegel answered her:

“I am Lord of Geeland, Count of Gavergeëten, Baron of Tuchtendeel. I was born at Damme, in Flanders, and I hold there for my estate five and twenty acres of moonlight.”

“What land is that whence you come?” the hostess asked him, drinking from Ulenspiegel’s tankard.

“It is a misty land,” he told her, “a land of illusion, where are sown the seeds of false hopes and of castles in theair. But you, sweet hostess mine, were born in no such land of moonlight, you with your amber skin and your eyes that shine like pearls. For bright is the sunshine that has coloured that browned gold of your hair, and it is Lady Venus herself who, without a single pang of jealousy, has formed your soft shoulders, and your prancing breasts, your rounded arms, your delicate sweet hands. Say, shall we sup together this night?”

“Fine pilgrim that you are from Flanders,” says she, “say, why are you come hither?”

“To have a talk with the Pope,” said Ulenspiegel.

“Heavens!” she cried, clasping her hands together, “and that is something that even myself, a native of the country, have never been able to do!”

“Yet shall I,” said Ulenspiegel.

“But know you where the Pope lives, what he is like, what are his habits and his ways of life?”

“I heard all about him on the way,” answered Ulenspiegel. “His name is Julius III. Wanton he is, and gay and dissolute, a good talker, that never falters for a clever repartee. I have also heard that he has taken an extraordinary fancy to a little dirty beggar of a man—a dark fellow and a rude who used to wander about with a monkey asking for alms. He came to the Pope, and the Pope, it seems, has made a Cardinal of him, and now gets quite ill if a single day passes without their meeting.”

“Have some more to drink,” said the landlady, “and do not speak so loud.”

“I have also heard,” continued Ulenspiegel, “that one day he swore like a soldier,Al dispetto di Dio, potta di Dio, and all because they did not bring him the cold peacock that he had ordered to be kept for his supper. And he excused himself, saying, ‘If my Master was angered over an apple, I, who am the vicar of God, can certainly swear an oath about a pheasant!’ You see, my pet, I know the Pope very well, and understand just what sort of a man he is!”

“Oh dear,” she said, “pray be careful and do not tell this to any one else. But still, and in spite of all you tell me, I maintain that you will not get to see him.”

“I shall,” said Ulenspiegel.

“I will wager you a hundred florins.”

“They are mine!” said Ulenspiegel.

The very next day, tired as he was, he ran through all the city and found out that the Pope was to say Mass that morning at the Church of St. John Lateran. Thither Ulenspiegel repaired, and took up a position as prominently in the Pope’s view as he could. And every time that the Pope elevated chalice or Host, Ulenspiegel turned his back to the altar. Now one of the cardinals was officiating with the Pope, swarthy of countenance he was, malicious and corpulent; and on his shoulder he carried a monkey. He reported Ulenspiegel’s behaviour to the Pope, who straightway after Mass sent four terrible-looking soldiers (such as one finds in those warlike lands) to seize the pilgrim.

“What religion do you profess?” the Pope asked him.

“Most Holy Father,” answered Ulenspiegel, “my religion is the same as my landlady’s.”

The Pope had the woman fetched.

“What is your religion?” he asked her.

“The same as your Holiness’s,” she told him.

“That also is mine,” said Ulenspiegel.

The Pope asked him why he turned his back upon the Holy Sacrament.

“I felt myself unworthy to look upon it face to face,” he answered.

“You are a pilgrim?” said the Pope.

“Yes,” answered Ulenspiegel, “and I am come from Flanders to beg remission of my sins.”

The Pope absolved and blessed him, and Ulenspiegel departed in the company of his landlady, who paid over to him his hundred florins. And with this good store of moneyhe departed from Rome and set out to return again to the land of Flanders.

But he had to pay seven ducats for the certificate of his pardon, all scribed upon parchment.

XXXIIn those days there came to Damme two brothers of the Premonstratensian Order, sellers of indulgences. And over their monastic robes they wore beautiful jackets bordered with lace.When it was fine they stood outside the porch of the church, and under the porch when it was wet, and there they stuck up their tariff; and this was the scale of charges: for sixliardsa hundred years’ indulgence, for onepatardtwo hundred years, three hundred years for half a sovereign, four hundred years for seven florins, and so on according to the price—indulgences plenary or semi-plenary, and pardons for all the most terrible crimes.And they gave to their patrons, in exchange for payment, little parchment certificates on which were written out the number of years of indulgence, and below was the following inscription:Who wants not to beStewed, roasted, fricasseed,Burning in hell for evermore,Indulgences let him buy.Pardon and forgiveness,For a little money,God will return to him.And the eager purchasers came thronging round the monks. One of whom never left off addressing his audience. This brother had a blooming countenance, and displayed three chins at least, and a portentous belly, all without the least embarrassment.The Monk’s SermonThe Monk’s Sermon“Unhappy ones!” he cried, fixing with his eye now one, now another of the crowd. “Unhappy ones! Let me show you a picture. Behold! You are in hell! The fire burns you most cruelly. You are boiling in that cauldron full of oil wherein are prepared theolie-koekjesof Astarte. You are nothing better than a sausage on the frying-pan of Lucifer, or a leg of mutton on the spit of Guilguiroth, biggest of all the devils. And first they cut you up in little pieces. Ah, woe is me! Behold this sinner who despised indulgences! Behold this plate of daintiness! ’Tis he! ’Tis he! His wicked body thus reduced by damnation. And for sauce, brimstone and pitch and tar! Thus are those poor sinners eaten alive to be born again continually to their pain! And here in all reality is the place of tears and of grinding of teeth. Have mercy, God of mercy! For now, poor damned one, you are in hell, and you suffer unspeakable woes. And yet if any there were to subscribe adenierfor you, straightway one of your hands would find relief; and let but some other give a half adenierand your two hands would be freed entirely from the pain of the fire. But as for the remainder of your body, let some one only give a florin, and there falls the dew of indulgence over all! O freshness of delight! And now for ten days, a hundred days, a thousand years maybe, according as one pays, no more roast meat, no moreolie-koekjes, no more fricassees for you! And even if it is not for yourself, is there no one else, there in the secret depths of the fire, no one else for whom you would wish to gain relief—one of your parents perhaps, a dear wife, or some lovely girl with whom you have committed wilful sin?”And as he spoke these words, the monk jogged the elbow of his brother that stood by holding in his hands a silver bowl. And that brother, lowering his eyes at this signal, shook the bowl unctuously, as if inviting contributions.Whereat the preacher continued in this wise: “Or perhaps you have a son or a daughter, maybe, in the midstof this terrible fire, or some beloved little child? Hark, how they cry aloud, and weep, and call to you by name. Can you remain deaf to their pitiful voices? You cannot. Even a heart of ice must melt, though it cost you a carolus! And behold, at the very sound of the carolus as it strikes this vile metal” (and here his comrade shook the plate again), “a space opens out in the midst of the fire, and the tormented soul ascends to some volcano mouth where it meets the air, the fresh, free air! Where are the pains of the fire now? For the sea is close at hand, and straight into the sea the soul plunges. She swims on her back, on her stomach, floats upon the waves, dives beneath them. Oh, listen how she sings aloud in her joy! See how she rolls about in the water! The very angels gaze down upon her from heaven and are glad. Eagerly they await her coming; but not yet, not yet has she had her fill of the sea. If she might only turn into a fish! She knoweth not how there are prepared for her up aloft sweet baths, perfumed and scented, with fine bits of sugar-candy floating therein, all white and fresh like bits of ice. Now a shark appears. She fears it not at all, but clambers upon its back, and sits there all unnoticed, hoping he will take her with him down into the depths of the sea. And now she goes to greet the little water-angels that feed on waterzoey from coral cauldrons, and on freshest oysters from plates of mother-of-pearl. And she is welcomed and fêted and made much of, but still the angels in heaven beckon her on high, till at last, refreshed and happy, you may see her rise aloft, singing like a lark, up to the highest heaven where God sits in glory on his throne. There she finds again all her earthly friends and loved ones (save only those, forsooth, that in this life have spoken ill of indulgences and of our Holy Mother Church and who burn now for their sin upon the floor of hell. And so for ever and for ever and for ever to all ages, in an all-consuming eternity). But that other soul, now dear to God, refreshes herself in soft baths and crunches sugar-candy.Buy then, my brothers, buy your indulgences. We sell them forcrusats, for florins, or for English sovereigns. Even copper coin is not refused. Buy then, buy! This is the Holy Mart! And we have indulgences adapted to the poor man’s purse as well as to the rich man’s. Only, I am sorry to say, my brothers, no credit is allowed. For to buy without paying cash is a crime most grievous in the eyes of Our Lord.”Hereupon the monk who had kept silent shook his platter, and the florins,crusats,patards,sols, anddeniersfell into it as thick as hail.Claes, feeling himself rich, paid a florin for an indulgence of ten thousand years; and the monks delivered to him a piece of parchment in exchange.At last, seeing that there was no one left in Damme but the miserly folk who would not buy indulgences at any price, the two monks left the village and proceeded on their way to Heyst.

XXXI

In those days there came to Damme two brothers of the Premonstratensian Order, sellers of indulgences. And over their monastic robes they wore beautiful jackets bordered with lace.When it was fine they stood outside the porch of the church, and under the porch when it was wet, and there they stuck up their tariff; and this was the scale of charges: for sixliardsa hundred years’ indulgence, for onepatardtwo hundred years, three hundred years for half a sovereign, four hundred years for seven florins, and so on according to the price—indulgences plenary or semi-plenary, and pardons for all the most terrible crimes.And they gave to their patrons, in exchange for payment, little parchment certificates on which were written out the number of years of indulgence, and below was the following inscription:Who wants not to beStewed, roasted, fricasseed,Burning in hell for evermore,Indulgences let him buy.Pardon and forgiveness,For a little money,God will return to him.And the eager purchasers came thronging round the monks. One of whom never left off addressing his audience. This brother had a blooming countenance, and displayed three chins at least, and a portentous belly, all without the least embarrassment.The Monk’s SermonThe Monk’s Sermon“Unhappy ones!” he cried, fixing with his eye now one, now another of the crowd. “Unhappy ones! Let me show you a picture. Behold! You are in hell! The fire burns you most cruelly. You are boiling in that cauldron full of oil wherein are prepared theolie-koekjesof Astarte. You are nothing better than a sausage on the frying-pan of Lucifer, or a leg of mutton on the spit of Guilguiroth, biggest of all the devils. And first they cut you up in little pieces. Ah, woe is me! Behold this sinner who despised indulgences! Behold this plate of daintiness! ’Tis he! ’Tis he! His wicked body thus reduced by damnation. And for sauce, brimstone and pitch and tar! Thus are those poor sinners eaten alive to be born again continually to their pain! And here in all reality is the place of tears and of grinding of teeth. Have mercy, God of mercy! For now, poor damned one, you are in hell, and you suffer unspeakable woes. And yet if any there were to subscribe adenierfor you, straightway one of your hands would find relief; and let but some other give a half adenierand your two hands would be freed entirely from the pain of the fire. But as for the remainder of your body, let some one only give a florin, and there falls the dew of indulgence over all! O freshness of delight! And now for ten days, a hundred days, a thousand years maybe, according as one pays, no more roast meat, no moreolie-koekjes, no more fricassees for you! And even if it is not for yourself, is there no one else, there in the secret depths of the fire, no one else for whom you would wish to gain relief—one of your parents perhaps, a dear wife, or some lovely girl with whom you have committed wilful sin?”And as he spoke these words, the monk jogged the elbow of his brother that stood by holding in his hands a silver bowl. And that brother, lowering his eyes at this signal, shook the bowl unctuously, as if inviting contributions.Whereat the preacher continued in this wise: “Or perhaps you have a son or a daughter, maybe, in the midstof this terrible fire, or some beloved little child? Hark, how they cry aloud, and weep, and call to you by name. Can you remain deaf to their pitiful voices? You cannot. Even a heart of ice must melt, though it cost you a carolus! And behold, at the very sound of the carolus as it strikes this vile metal” (and here his comrade shook the plate again), “a space opens out in the midst of the fire, and the tormented soul ascends to some volcano mouth where it meets the air, the fresh, free air! Where are the pains of the fire now? For the sea is close at hand, and straight into the sea the soul plunges. She swims on her back, on her stomach, floats upon the waves, dives beneath them. Oh, listen how she sings aloud in her joy! See how she rolls about in the water! The very angels gaze down upon her from heaven and are glad. Eagerly they await her coming; but not yet, not yet has she had her fill of the sea. If she might only turn into a fish! She knoweth not how there are prepared for her up aloft sweet baths, perfumed and scented, with fine bits of sugar-candy floating therein, all white and fresh like bits of ice. Now a shark appears. She fears it not at all, but clambers upon its back, and sits there all unnoticed, hoping he will take her with him down into the depths of the sea. And now she goes to greet the little water-angels that feed on waterzoey from coral cauldrons, and on freshest oysters from plates of mother-of-pearl. And she is welcomed and fêted and made much of, but still the angels in heaven beckon her on high, till at last, refreshed and happy, you may see her rise aloft, singing like a lark, up to the highest heaven where God sits in glory on his throne. There she finds again all her earthly friends and loved ones (save only those, forsooth, that in this life have spoken ill of indulgences and of our Holy Mother Church and who burn now for their sin upon the floor of hell. And so for ever and for ever and for ever to all ages, in an all-consuming eternity). But that other soul, now dear to God, refreshes herself in soft baths and crunches sugar-candy.Buy then, my brothers, buy your indulgences. We sell them forcrusats, for florins, or for English sovereigns. Even copper coin is not refused. Buy then, buy! This is the Holy Mart! And we have indulgences adapted to the poor man’s purse as well as to the rich man’s. Only, I am sorry to say, my brothers, no credit is allowed. For to buy without paying cash is a crime most grievous in the eyes of Our Lord.”Hereupon the monk who had kept silent shook his platter, and the florins,crusats,patards,sols, anddeniersfell into it as thick as hail.Claes, feeling himself rich, paid a florin for an indulgence of ten thousand years; and the monks delivered to him a piece of parchment in exchange.At last, seeing that there was no one left in Damme but the miserly folk who would not buy indulgences at any price, the two monks left the village and proceeded on their way to Heyst.

In those days there came to Damme two brothers of the Premonstratensian Order, sellers of indulgences. And over their monastic robes they wore beautiful jackets bordered with lace.

When it was fine they stood outside the porch of the church, and under the porch when it was wet, and there they stuck up their tariff; and this was the scale of charges: for sixliardsa hundred years’ indulgence, for onepatardtwo hundred years, three hundred years for half a sovereign, four hundred years for seven florins, and so on according to the price—indulgences plenary or semi-plenary, and pardons for all the most terrible crimes.

And they gave to their patrons, in exchange for payment, little parchment certificates on which were written out the number of years of indulgence, and below was the following inscription:

Who wants not to beStewed, roasted, fricasseed,Burning in hell for evermore,Indulgences let him buy.Pardon and forgiveness,For a little money,God will return to him.

Who wants not to be

Stewed, roasted, fricasseed,

Burning in hell for evermore,

Indulgences let him buy.

Pardon and forgiveness,

For a little money,

God will return to him.

And the eager purchasers came thronging round the monks. One of whom never left off addressing his audience. This brother had a blooming countenance, and displayed three chins at least, and a portentous belly, all without the least embarrassment.

The Monk’s SermonThe Monk’s Sermon

The Monk’s Sermon

“Unhappy ones!” he cried, fixing with his eye now one, now another of the crowd. “Unhappy ones! Let me show you a picture. Behold! You are in hell! The fire burns you most cruelly. You are boiling in that cauldron full of oil wherein are prepared theolie-koekjesof Astarte. You are nothing better than a sausage on the frying-pan of Lucifer, or a leg of mutton on the spit of Guilguiroth, biggest of all the devils. And first they cut you up in little pieces. Ah, woe is me! Behold this sinner who despised indulgences! Behold this plate of daintiness! ’Tis he! ’Tis he! His wicked body thus reduced by damnation. And for sauce, brimstone and pitch and tar! Thus are those poor sinners eaten alive to be born again continually to their pain! And here in all reality is the place of tears and of grinding of teeth. Have mercy, God of mercy! For now, poor damned one, you are in hell, and you suffer unspeakable woes. And yet if any there were to subscribe adenierfor you, straightway one of your hands would find relief; and let but some other give a half adenierand your two hands would be freed entirely from the pain of the fire. But as for the remainder of your body, let some one only give a florin, and there falls the dew of indulgence over all! O freshness of delight! And now for ten days, a hundred days, a thousand years maybe, according as one pays, no more roast meat, no moreolie-koekjes, no more fricassees for you! And even if it is not for yourself, is there no one else, there in the secret depths of the fire, no one else for whom you would wish to gain relief—one of your parents perhaps, a dear wife, or some lovely girl with whom you have committed wilful sin?”

And as he spoke these words, the monk jogged the elbow of his brother that stood by holding in his hands a silver bowl. And that brother, lowering his eyes at this signal, shook the bowl unctuously, as if inviting contributions.

Whereat the preacher continued in this wise: “Or perhaps you have a son or a daughter, maybe, in the midstof this terrible fire, or some beloved little child? Hark, how they cry aloud, and weep, and call to you by name. Can you remain deaf to their pitiful voices? You cannot. Even a heart of ice must melt, though it cost you a carolus! And behold, at the very sound of the carolus as it strikes this vile metal” (and here his comrade shook the plate again), “a space opens out in the midst of the fire, and the tormented soul ascends to some volcano mouth where it meets the air, the fresh, free air! Where are the pains of the fire now? For the sea is close at hand, and straight into the sea the soul plunges. She swims on her back, on her stomach, floats upon the waves, dives beneath them. Oh, listen how she sings aloud in her joy! See how she rolls about in the water! The very angels gaze down upon her from heaven and are glad. Eagerly they await her coming; but not yet, not yet has she had her fill of the sea. If she might only turn into a fish! She knoweth not how there are prepared for her up aloft sweet baths, perfumed and scented, with fine bits of sugar-candy floating therein, all white and fresh like bits of ice. Now a shark appears. She fears it not at all, but clambers upon its back, and sits there all unnoticed, hoping he will take her with him down into the depths of the sea. And now she goes to greet the little water-angels that feed on waterzoey from coral cauldrons, and on freshest oysters from plates of mother-of-pearl. And she is welcomed and fêted and made much of, but still the angels in heaven beckon her on high, till at last, refreshed and happy, you may see her rise aloft, singing like a lark, up to the highest heaven where God sits in glory on his throne. There she finds again all her earthly friends and loved ones (save only those, forsooth, that in this life have spoken ill of indulgences and of our Holy Mother Church and who burn now for their sin upon the floor of hell. And so for ever and for ever and for ever to all ages, in an all-consuming eternity). But that other soul, now dear to God, refreshes herself in soft baths and crunches sugar-candy.Buy then, my brothers, buy your indulgences. We sell them forcrusats, for florins, or for English sovereigns. Even copper coin is not refused. Buy then, buy! This is the Holy Mart! And we have indulgences adapted to the poor man’s purse as well as to the rich man’s. Only, I am sorry to say, my brothers, no credit is allowed. For to buy without paying cash is a crime most grievous in the eyes of Our Lord.”

Hereupon the monk who had kept silent shook his platter, and the florins,crusats,patards,sols, anddeniersfell into it as thick as hail.

Claes, feeling himself rich, paid a florin for an indulgence of ten thousand years; and the monks delivered to him a piece of parchment in exchange.

At last, seeing that there was no one left in Damme but the miserly folk who would not buy indulgences at any price, the two monks left the village and proceeded on their way to Heyst.

XXXIIIn those days the country round Liége was in a disturbed and dangerous state by reason of the heresy hunts, and Lamme Goedzak came again to live in Damme. He was married now, and his wife followed him willingly because the people of Liége, who had a mocking nature, used to make fun of her husband’s meekness.Lamme often visited Claes, who, since coming into his fortune, was always to be found at the tavern of theBlauwe Torre, and had even appropriated one of the tables for himself and his boon companions. This table was next to the one where sat the Dean of the Fishmongers, Josse Grypstuiver by name, drinking sparingly from his half-pint tankard. For he was a miser, a stingy fellow who thought the world of himself, and lived for the most part on smoked herrings, and thought more of money than of the safety of his own soul. Now Claes carried in his pocket that piece of parchmentwhereon was inscribed the tale of his ten-thousand-year indulgence.One evening Claes was drinking at theBlauwe Torrein the company of Lamme Goedzak, Jan van Roosebeke, and Matthys van Assche, Josse Grypstuiver also being present. Claes had been imbibing freely, and Jan Roosebeke was remonstrating with him, saying that it was sin to drink so much. But Claes replied that a pint too much meant nothing more serious than an extra half-day in purgatory.“Besides,” said he, “I have a ten-thousand-year indulgence in my pocket! Is there any one here that would like a hundred years of them, I wonder, so that he may indulge his stomach without fear of the consequences?”Every one shouted at once:“How much are you selling them at?”“For a pint of beer,” Claes answered, “I will give you one hundred days, but for amuske conynyou shall have a hundred and fifty!”Some of the revellers gave Claes a pint of beer, others a piece of ham, and for each and all Claes cut off a little strip of his parchment. It was not Claes, forsooth, who consumed the price of his indulgences, but Lamme Goedzak; and he gorged himself so that he began to swell visibly; and all the time Claes went on distributing his merchandise up and down the tavern.The man Grypstuiver turned a sour face towards him, and asked if he had an indulgence for ten days.“No,” said Claes, “that’s too small a piece to cut.”Every one laughed, and Grypstuiver ate his anger as best he could. Then Claes went home, followed by Lamme, walking as if his legs were made of wool.

XXXII

In those days the country round Liége was in a disturbed and dangerous state by reason of the heresy hunts, and Lamme Goedzak came again to live in Damme. He was married now, and his wife followed him willingly because the people of Liége, who had a mocking nature, used to make fun of her husband’s meekness.Lamme often visited Claes, who, since coming into his fortune, was always to be found at the tavern of theBlauwe Torre, and had even appropriated one of the tables for himself and his boon companions. This table was next to the one where sat the Dean of the Fishmongers, Josse Grypstuiver by name, drinking sparingly from his half-pint tankard. For he was a miser, a stingy fellow who thought the world of himself, and lived for the most part on smoked herrings, and thought more of money than of the safety of his own soul. Now Claes carried in his pocket that piece of parchmentwhereon was inscribed the tale of his ten-thousand-year indulgence.One evening Claes was drinking at theBlauwe Torrein the company of Lamme Goedzak, Jan van Roosebeke, and Matthys van Assche, Josse Grypstuiver also being present. Claes had been imbibing freely, and Jan Roosebeke was remonstrating with him, saying that it was sin to drink so much. But Claes replied that a pint too much meant nothing more serious than an extra half-day in purgatory.“Besides,” said he, “I have a ten-thousand-year indulgence in my pocket! Is there any one here that would like a hundred years of them, I wonder, so that he may indulge his stomach without fear of the consequences?”Every one shouted at once:“How much are you selling them at?”“For a pint of beer,” Claes answered, “I will give you one hundred days, but for amuske conynyou shall have a hundred and fifty!”Some of the revellers gave Claes a pint of beer, others a piece of ham, and for each and all Claes cut off a little strip of his parchment. It was not Claes, forsooth, who consumed the price of his indulgences, but Lamme Goedzak; and he gorged himself so that he began to swell visibly; and all the time Claes went on distributing his merchandise up and down the tavern.The man Grypstuiver turned a sour face towards him, and asked if he had an indulgence for ten days.“No,” said Claes, “that’s too small a piece to cut.”Every one laughed, and Grypstuiver ate his anger as best he could. Then Claes went home, followed by Lamme, walking as if his legs were made of wool.

In those days the country round Liége was in a disturbed and dangerous state by reason of the heresy hunts, and Lamme Goedzak came again to live in Damme. He was married now, and his wife followed him willingly because the people of Liége, who had a mocking nature, used to make fun of her husband’s meekness.

Lamme often visited Claes, who, since coming into his fortune, was always to be found at the tavern of theBlauwe Torre, and had even appropriated one of the tables for himself and his boon companions. This table was next to the one where sat the Dean of the Fishmongers, Josse Grypstuiver by name, drinking sparingly from his half-pint tankard. For he was a miser, a stingy fellow who thought the world of himself, and lived for the most part on smoked herrings, and thought more of money than of the safety of his own soul. Now Claes carried in his pocket that piece of parchmentwhereon was inscribed the tale of his ten-thousand-year indulgence.

One evening Claes was drinking at theBlauwe Torrein the company of Lamme Goedzak, Jan van Roosebeke, and Matthys van Assche, Josse Grypstuiver also being present. Claes had been imbibing freely, and Jan Roosebeke was remonstrating with him, saying that it was sin to drink so much. But Claes replied that a pint too much meant nothing more serious than an extra half-day in purgatory.

“Besides,” said he, “I have a ten-thousand-year indulgence in my pocket! Is there any one here that would like a hundred years of them, I wonder, so that he may indulge his stomach without fear of the consequences?”

Every one shouted at once:

“How much are you selling them at?”

“For a pint of beer,” Claes answered, “I will give you one hundred days, but for amuske conynyou shall have a hundred and fifty!”

Some of the revellers gave Claes a pint of beer, others a piece of ham, and for each and all Claes cut off a little strip of his parchment. It was not Claes, forsooth, who consumed the price of his indulgences, but Lamme Goedzak; and he gorged himself so that he began to swell visibly; and all the time Claes went on distributing his merchandise up and down the tavern.

The man Grypstuiver turned a sour face towards him, and asked if he had an indulgence for ten days.

“No,” said Claes, “that’s too small a piece to cut.”

Every one laughed, and Grypstuiver ate his anger as best he could. Then Claes went home, followed by Lamme, walking as if his legs were made of wool.

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