Many and many a time had Ghent cherished him and succoured him, but now he struck her on the breast as it were with a dagger, looking for blood, since it seemed he had not there found milk enough.
Last shame of all, he cast his eye upon the bell that is called Roelandt; and the man who had sounded the alarm thereon, bidding all the citizens to defend the rights of their city, him he had bound and hung to the clapper of the bell. And he had no pity upon Roelandt, the very tongue of his mother, the tongue whereby she spake to all the land of Flanders, Roelandt the proud bell that sings of herself this song:
When I ring there is a fire
When I peal there is a storm
In the land of Flanders.
And thinking that his mother had too loud a voice he carried away her bell. And the people of the country round would say that Ghent was dead, now that her son had wrenched away her tongue with his pincers of iron.
XX
In those days, which were days of spring, fresh and clear, when all the earth is in love, Soetkin was chatting by the open window, and Claes humming a tune, while Ulenspiegel was dressing up the dog Bibulus Schnouffius in a judge’s bonnet. The dog plied his paws as though desirous of passing judgment upon some one, though in reality it was simply his way of trying to get rid of his ungainly head-gear.
All at once, Ulenspiegel shut the window and ran back into the room. Then he jumped upon the chairs and the table, reaching up towards the ceiling with his hands. Soetkin and Claes soon discovered the cause of this mad behaviour, for there was a tiny little bird, chirruping with fear, and cowering against a beam in the recess of the ceiling, and Ulenspiegel was trying to catch it. He had almost succeeded when Claes spoke out briskly and asked him: