Thereafter he took the road again, and as he walked solitarily along he said to himself:
“Verily now do I wander through a land of ruin, blood, and tears. Nevertheless, I find nothing. Those spirits lied to me without a doubt. For where is Lamme? Where is Nele! Where are the Seven?”
And he heard a voice speaking to him as though in a whisper:
“In death, in ruin, and in tears, seek!”
And he went his way.
XVIII
It was the month of March when Ulenspiegel came to Namur. There he found Lamme, who, having conceived a violent passion for the fish of the Meuse, and for the trout especially, had hired a boat and spent all day fishing in the river by permission of the commune. But for this privilege he had been obliged to pay the sum of fifty florins to the Guild of the Fishmongers.
Some of his fish he sold. But the rest he ate himself, and by this means he gained a finer belly than ever, and a small sack of money. When he saw his friend and comrade walking along the banks of the Meuse and about to enter the town, Lamme was mightily rejoiced and pushed his boat to the shore, and there springing on to the bank rushed up to Ulenspiegel, blowing and puffing and stammering for joy.
“Here you are,” he cried, “here you are at last, my son. And where are you off to? What are you after? You are not dead, then? And have you seen my wife? You’ll feed off the fish of the Meuse, which are the best to be found anywhere on this base earth! And let me tell you something. The people here make such sauces as will tempt you to dip your fingers into the dish right up to your shoulder! Ah, but how proud and splendid you look! On your cheeks is the very bloom of battle. And here you are! It’s you, it’s really you, my son! My Ulenspiegel! You jolly vagabond!” Then in a lower tone of voice he added: