“She is our chief’s daughter,” said the blackamoor.
Then speaking low like a man in fear:
“She was smitten by God with the malady of love and knows naught of woman’s modesty. As soon as she seeth a man, she entereth on gaiety and wildness, and laughs without ceasing. She saith little; she was long thought to be dumb. By night, in sadness, she stays before the fire, weeping at whiles or laughing without reason, and pointing to her belly, where, she saith, she hath a hurt. At the hour of noon, in summer, after the meal, her sharpest madness cometh upon her. Then she goeth to dance near naked on the outskirts of the camp. She will wear naught but raiment of tulle or muslin, and in winter we have great trouble to cover her with a cloak of cloth of goat’s hair.”
“But,” said Lamme, “hath she not some man friend to prevent her from abandoning herself thus to all comers?”
“She hath none,” said the man, “for travellers, coming near her and beholding her eyes distraught, have more of fear than desire for her. This big man was a bold one,” said he, pointing to Lamme.
“Let him talk, my son,” said Ulenspiegel; “it is the stockvisch slandering the whale. Which of the two is the one that gives most oil?”
“You have a sharp tongue this morning,” said Lamme.
But Ulenspiegel, without listening to him, said to the Egyptian:
“What doth she when others are as bold as my friend Lamme?”
The Egyptian answered sadly: