“I shall die soon enough,” answered Ulenspiegel.
And the dwarfish spirits of the woods that carried Nele said to her also: “Why are you not a spirit like us that we might take you?”
And Nele answered: “Only have patience.”
So they came at length before the throne of the King, and when they saw his golden axe and his crown of iron they began to tremble with fear. And he asked them:
“Wherefore have you come to see me, poor little things?”
But they answered him not at all.
“I know you,” added the King, “you bud of a witch, and you also, shoot of a charcoal-burner. By power of sorcery have you penetrated into this laboratory of Nature, yet now your lips are closed like capon stuffed with bread-crumbs!”
Nele trembled as she gazed upon the awful aspect of that spirit. But the manly courage of Ulenspiegel revived, and he made answer bravely:
“The ashes of Claes beat upon my breast. For, Most Divine Highness, Death now goes gathering his harvest through all the land of Flanders, mowing down the bravest of her men and the sweetest of her women in the name of His Holiness the Pope. And the privileges of my country are broken, her charters annulled, she is wasted by famine, her weavers and cloth-workers abandon her to look for work in other lands. And soon must she die if none comes to her aid. Your Highness, I am naught indeed but a poor little chit of a man that has come into the world like any other, and I have lived as I was able, imperfect, limited on every side, ignorant, neither virtuous nor chaste, and most unworthy of any grace, human or divine. Yet my mother Soetkin died as the result of torture and grief, and Claes was burned in a terrible fire, and I have sworn to avenge them. Once I have been able to do this. But now I long to see the miserable soil of my native land made happy, the soil where the bones of my parents lie scattered; and I have asked of God the death of our persecutors, but not yet has He heard my prayer. This is why, all weary of my complaining, I have evoked your presence by the power of Katheline’s charm, and this is why we are come to you, I and my trembling comrade here, to fall at your feet and to beg you, Most Divine Highness, to save our poor land!”
To this the King and his illustrious companion as with one voice made answer: