“Will she verily be beaten for me, Madame baesine,” said Lamme.
“Till the blood runs,” replied she.
Lamme then, considering the girl, said: “I see thee fresh, perfumed, thy shoulder coming out from thy robe like a great petal of a white rose; I would not have this lovely skin under which the blood flows so young, suffer under the whip, nor that those eyes bright with the fire of youth should weep for the anguish of the strokes, nor that the cold of the prison should make thy body shiver, thy body like a love fay. And so I had rather choose thee than know that thou wert beaten.”
The girl took him away. So sinned he, as he did all things in his life, through kindness of heart.
Meanwhile, Ulenspiegel and a tall handsome brown girl with curling waving hair were standing before one another. The girl, without saying a word, was looking at Ulenspiegel coquettishly and seemed not to wish to have anything to do with him.
“Love me,” said he.
“Love thee,” said she, “wild lover who lovest only at thine own hour?”
Ulenspiegel answered: “The bird that passes above thy head sings his song and flies away. And so with me, sweetheart: wilt thou that we sing together?”
“Aye,” said she, “a song of laughter and of tears.”
And the girl flung herself on Ulenspiegel’s neck.