“I will be careful,” said Lamme.
Ulenspiegel walked about by himself till the sun set and night began to come on quickly. He had come to the Pierpot-Straetje—the Alley of the Pot of Stone—and there he heard the sound of a viola being played most melodiously, and presently he noticed a white figure that beckoned to him from a distance, then retreated, playing the viola all the time. It was a woman, and she sang like a seraphim, a sweet, slow song, stopping now and then to look behind her with a beckoning gesture, then retreating again. But Ulenspiegel ran quickly and overtook her, and was about to speak to her when she sealed his lips with a hand all scented with benjamin.
“Are you a working man or a nobleman?” she asked.
“I am Ulenspiegel.”
“Are you rich?”
“Rich enough for you.”
“But you have not seen me!” And she opened the lantern she carried so as to let the light shine straight upon her face.
“You are beautiful,” said Ulenspiegel.
“Then come with me,” she said.
And she brought him to the house of La Stevenyne, on the road to Bruges, at the sign of the Rainbow.