The beauteous Gilline, tearing at the doors, the shutters, the windows, and the glass panes with her nails, seemed to want to scratch her way through everything, like a terrified cat. Then, all livid, she crouched down in a corner, with haggard eyes, showing her teeth, and holding her viol as if she must needs protect it at all costs.
The seven and Lamme said to the girls: “We will do you no hurt”; with their help tied up with their own chains and cords the catchpolls shivering in their shoes and not daring to resist, for they perceived that the butchers, picked out among the strongest by the baes of the Bee, would have chopped them to pieces with their cutlasses.
At every candle he made the Stevenyne eat Ulenspiegel said:
“This is for the hanging; that for the cudgelling; this other for the branding; this fourth for my pierced tongue; these two excellent and extra fat ones for the king’s ships and the quartering by four galleys; this for your den of spies; that one for your damsel in the brocade dress, and all these others just to please me.”
And the girls laughed to see the Stevenyne sneezing with anger and trying to spit out her candles. But in vain, for she had her mouth too full of them.
Ulenspiegel, Lamme, and the seven never ceased singing in time with one another: “’Tis van te beven de klinkaert.”
Then Ulenspiegel stopped, making sign to them to murmur the refrain softly. They did so while he held this conversation with the girls and the catchpolls:
“If any one of you cries for help, he will be cut down immediately.”
“Cut down!” said the butchers.
“We will hold our tongues,” said the girls, “do not hurt us, Ulenspiegel.”