But there were other pilgrims, low fellows, needy and starveling, who, paid by the Church, were walking backwards for six sols.
A little man, completely bald, with staring eyes and a savage look, was skipping along backwards behind them reciting paternosters.
Ulenspiegel, wishing to know why he was mimicking the crayfishes in this fashion, planting himself before him and smiling, jumped in step with him. The rebecks, fifes, viols, and bagpipes, and the groans of the pilgrims made the music for the dance.
“Jan van den Duivel,” said Ulenspiegel, “is it that you may more certainly fall that you run in this wise?”
The man made no answer and went on mumbling his paternosters.
“Perhaps,” said Ulenspiegel, “you want to know how many trees there are along the road. But are you not counting the leaves also?”
The man, who was reciting a Credo, signed to Ulenspiegel to hold his tongue.
“Perhaps,” said the latter, still skipping before him and imitating him, “it is the result of some sudden madness that you should thus be going the contrary way to everybody else. But he who would have a wise answer from a madman is not wise himself. Is not this true, master of the peeled poll?”
As the man still made no answer, Ulenspiegel went on skipping, but making so much noise with his boot-soles that the road reëchoed like a wooden box.
“Maybe,” said Ulenspiegel, “you might be dumb, good sir?”