“Tyl,” said Nele, “are you seeking the Seven?”
“Even so,” Tyl told her.
Now Nele carried with her a bag, or satchel, that was so full it seemed likely to burst. This satchel she offered to Tyl, saying:
“I thought it was unwholesome, Tyl, that a man should go on a journey without a good fat goose, and a ham, and some Ghent sausages. So take them, and when you eat of them think of me.”
While Ulenspiegel stood gazing at Nele, quite oblivious of the satchel which she was holding out to him, Lamme poked out his head from another hole in the hood, and began to address the girl in his turn.
“O girl most wise,” he said, “O girl most prudent, if he refuses such a gift it must be from pure absence of mind. But you had much better give into my own keeping that goose of yours, that ham, and those fine sausages. I will take care of them, I promise you!”
“And who,” asked Nele of her lover, “who may this red-face be?”
“A victim of the married state,” Tyl told her, “that is wasting away with sorrow, and would soon, in fact, shrink away to nothing, like an overbaked apple, were it not that he recuperated his strength from time to time and all the time by taking nourishment.”
“Alas, my son,” sighed Lamme, “what you say is only too true.”
Now it was very hot, and Nele had covered her head with her apron because of the sun. Ulenspiegel looked upon her, and conceived a sudden desire to be alone with her. He turned to Lamme, and pointed to a woman that was walking some way off in a field.