And she bit him without ceasing and without pity, striking him with the waffle iron when she could not bite him with it. And because of her great thirst for revenge she did not kill him.
“Show compassion,” cried the prisoner. “Ulenspiegel, strike me with thy knife, I shall die quicker. Take this woman away. Break the bells for the dead; kill those calling children.”
And Toria still kept biting him, until an old man, in pity, took the waffle iron out of her hands.
But Toria then spat on the weer-wolf’s face and tore out his hairs, crying:
“Thou shalt pay, by slow fire, by burning pincers, thy eyes to my nails!”
In the meantime were come all the fishermen, rustics, and women of Heyst, at the report that the weer-wolf was a man and not a devil. Some carried lanterns and flaming torches. And all were crying out:
“Robber and murderer, where dost thou hide the gold stolen from the poor victims? Let him give all back.”
“I have none: have pity,” said the fishmonger.
And the women threw stones and sand upon him.
“He pays, he pays!” cried Toria.