“That’s but a drunkard’s notion,” answered Lamme, “for you know quite well that the Seven are giants, and taller than the roof of the Church of St. Sauver itself!”
The thoughts of Ulenspiegel were still with Nele, but none the less did he hope to find, perchance, good quarters in some inn, a good supper, and a comely hostess into the bargain. Again, therefore, did he urge his companion to come along with him and drink. But Lamme would not listen to him, gazing sadly at the tower of Notre Dame, and addressing himself in prayer to Our Lady somewhat in this wise:
“O Blessed Lady, patroness of all lawful unions, suffer me, I pray, to see yet once again the white neck, the soft and tender neck, of my love!”
“Come and drink!” cried Ulenspiegel. “Belike you will find her displaying these charms of hers to the drinkers in the tavern.”
“How dare you harbour such a thought!” cried Lamme.
“Come and drink!” repeated Ulenspiegel. “Your wife has turned innkeeper without a doubt.”
And thus conversing, they repaired to the Marché du Samedi, and entered into the Blauwe Lanteern—at the sign of the Blue Lantern. And there they found a right jolly-looking innkeeper.
The donkey meanwhile was unharnessed from the cart, and was put up in the stables and provided with a good feed of oats. Our travellers themselves ordered supper, and when they had eaten their fill, they went to bed and slept soundly till morning, only to wake up and eat again. And Lamme, who was wellnigh bursting with all that he had eaten, said that he could hear in his stomach a sound like the music of the spheres.
Now when the time came to pay the bill, mine host came to Lamme and told him that the total amounted to six patards.
“He has the money,” said Lamme, pointing to Ulenspiegel.