“Will you go away?” said she.
“No,” said he.
She was holding her apron the while with her little trembling hands, and she was pulling the stuff jerkily and tears fell on it, wetting it.
“Nele,” asked Ulenspiegel, “will it be fine presently?” And he looked on her, smiling lovingly.
“Why do you ask me that?” said she.
“Because, when it is fine, it does not weep,” replied Ulenspiegel.
“Go,” said she, “go to your beautiful lady in the brocade dress; you made her laugh well enough,” said she.
Then sang Ulenspiegel:
“When my darling’s tears I see
My heart is torn atwain,