There it was all sugar and honey with them. The host having seen the prince’s letters, handed fifty carolus to Ulenspiegel for the prince, and would take no payment for the turkey he served them, nor for the dobbel-clauwert with which he washed it down. He warned them, too, that there were at Courtray spies of the Court of Blood, for which cause he ought to well keep his tongue as well as his companion’s.
“We shall reconnoitre then,” said Ulenspiegel and Lamme.
And they went out from the inn.
The sun was setting, gilding the gables of the houses; the birds were singing under the lime trees; the goodwives gossiped on the thresholds of their doors; the children rolled and tumbled about in the dust, and Ulenspiegel and Lamme wandered haphazard through the streets.
Suddenly Lamme said:
“Martin van den Ende, asked by me if he had seen a woman like my wife—I drew him my pretty portrait,—told me that there were at the house of the woman Stevenyne, on the Bruges road, at the Rainbow, outside the town, a great number of women who gather there every evening. I am going there straightway.”
“I shall find you again presently,” said Ulenspiegel. “I wish to pay the town a visit; if I meet your wife I will presently send her to you. You know that the baes has enjoined on you to be silent, if you have any regard for your skin.”
As Ulenspiegel wandered at his will, the sun went down, and the day falling swiftly, he arrived in the Pierpot-Straetje, which is the lane of the Stone Pot. There he heard the viol played upon melodiously; drawing near he saw from afar a white shape calling him, gliding away from him and playing on the viol. And it sang like a seraph a sweet slow song, stopping, turning back, still calling him and fleeing from him.
But Ulenspiegel ran swiftly; he overtook her and was about to speak to her when she laid on his mouth a hand perfumed with benjamin.
“Art thou a rustic or a nobleman?” said she.