XXVIII
It was at the beginning of May. The sky was clear, the ship sailed proudly on the billows, and Ulenspiegel sang this song:
The ashes beat on my heart,
The murderers are come;
With daggers have they struck at us,
Fiercely, with fire and sword have they struck at us,
They have bribed us most vilely and spied on us,
Where are love and fidelity now?
In exchange for those sweetest of virtues,