“Then,” said Ulenspiegel, “the sharks will have my four quarters, and you shall eat what they reject: drink up!”
“Why do you not eat one of these candles,” said she, “they would serve you in hell to light your eternal damnation.”
“I see clear enough to behold your shiny snout, O ill-scalded sow, drink up!” said Ulenspiegel.
Suddenly he struck the foot of the glass on the table, imitating with his hands the noise an upholsterer makes beating rhythmically the wool of a mattress upon a frame of sticks, but very gently, and saying:
“’Tis (tydt) van te beven de klinkaert” (it is time to make the clinker shiver—the glass that rings).
This is in Flanders the signal for the angry outbreak of drinkers and for the sacking of houses with the red lantern.
Ulenspiegel drank, then made the glass quiver on the table, saying:
“’Tis van te beven de klinkaert.”
And the seven imitated him.
All kept very still. Gilline grew pale, the Stevenyne appeared astonished. The catchpolls said: