“Let us drink!” she cried.
“Let us drink!” cried the constables.
“Let us drink!” cried La Stevenyne. “The doors are shut; the windows are strongly barred; the birds are in their cage. Let us drink!”
“Let us drink then,” said Ulenspiegel. “And bring us wine of the best to crown the banquet.”
La Stevenyne brought in more wine. And now they were all seated, drinking and eating, the constables and the girls together. But the seven butchers were at the same table with Ulenspiegel and Lamme, and they kept on throwing pieces of ham, and sausages, omelettes, and bottles of wine to the table of the girls, who themselves caught the food in mid-flight as carp catch the flies that buzz on the surface of a fishpond. And La Stevenyne laughed and grinned, and pointed to the packets of candles which hung over the counter. And these were the candles that the gay girls were used to purchase, five to the pound. Then La Stevenyne said to Ulenspiegel:
“On his way to the stake it is the custom for the condemned man to carry a wax candle. Shall I make you a present of one?”
“Let us drink!” said Ulenspiegel.
But La Gilline said: “Look at Ulenspiegel’s eyes. They are shining like the eyes of a swan that is about to die.”
“Wouldn’t you like to eat one of the candles?” said La Stevenyne. “They would serve you in hell to lighten your eternal damnation.”
“I see clearly enough to admire your ugly mug,” said Ulenspiegel.