“That was clever of you, Tyl, my lad; now Soetkin need not be afraid of going hungry in the old age of her widowhood.”
And Claes embraced her, pressing her close to his breast, and she wept all the more bitterly as she thought how soon she was to lose his tender protection.
Claes looked at Ulenspiegel and said:
“My son, it was wrong of you to go running off along the high roads of the world like any ruffian. You must not do that any more, my boy. You must not leave her alone at home, my widow in her sorrow. For now it is your duty to protect her and take care of her—you, a man.”
“I will, father,” said Ulenspiegel.
“O my poor husband!” cried Soetkin embracing him again. “What crime can we have committed? Nay, we lived our life peaceably together, lowly and humbly, loving each other well—how well Thou, Lord, knowest! Early in the morning we rose for work, and at eventide, rendering our thanks to Thee, we ate our daily bread. Oh, would that I could come at this King, and tear him with my nails! For in nothing, O Lord God, have we offended!”
But here the gaoler entered and said that it was time for them to depart.
Soetkin begged to be allowed to stay, and Claes felt her poor face burning hot as it touched his, and her tears falling in floods and wetting all his cheek, and her poor body shaking and trembling in his arms. He, too, entreated the gaoler that she might be suffered to remain with him. But the gaoler was obdurate, and removed Soetkin by force from the arms of Claes.
“Take care of her,” Claes said to Ulenspiegel.
He promised, and son and mother left the room together, she supported in his arms.