“We serve who pays us,” said they.
“’Tis van te beven de klinkaert! ’Tis van te beven de klinkaert!” said Lamme and the seven striking upon the table with shards of broken pots and glasses.
“Ye shall take with you also,” said Ulenspiegel, “Gilline, the Stevenyne, and the three damsels. If one of them tries to escape, ye shall sew her up in a sack and throw her into the river.”
“He has not killed me,” said Gilline, leaping out from her corner, and brandishing her viol in the air. And she sang:
“Of blood was all my dream
The dream so near my heart,
Of Eve the child I seem,
Of Satan, too, a part.”
The Stevenyne and the others were like to weep.
“Fear nothing, darlings,” said Ulenspiegel, “you are so soft and sweet, that everywhere they will love you, feast you, and caress you. At every war capture ye shall have your share in the booty.”