“At Ramskapelle, whence I go to Blanckenberghe, to Heyst, even as far as Knokke. On Sundays and feast days, I make waffles, after the fashion of those of Brabant, in all the villages with yonder machine. It is always very clean and well oiled. And this novelty of foreign parts was well received. If you should please to know more, and how it was that no one could recognize me, I will tell you that by day I reddened my face with rouge and painted my hair red. As for the wolf skin you are pointing to with your cruel finger, questioning me, I will tell you, defying you, that it comes from two wolves killed by me in the woods of Raveschoot and of Maldeghen. I had but to sew the skins together to cover myself with them. I hid it in a box in the dunes of Heyst; there are also the clothes stolen by me to sell later at a fit opportunity.”
“Take him from before the fire,” said the bailiff. The tormentor obeyed.
“Where is thy gold?” said the bailiff again.
“The king shall never know,” replied the fishmonger.
“Burn him with the candles nearer him,” said the bailiff. “Put him closer to the fire.”
The tormentor obeyed and the fishmonger cried:
“I will say nothing. I have spoken too much; ye will burn me. I am no sorcerer; why do ye set me at the fire again? My feet are bleeding from the burns. I will say nothing. Why nearer now? They bleed, I tell you, they bleed; these slippers are boots of red-hot iron. My gold? Ah, well, my only friend in this world, it is ... take me away from the fire; it is in my cave at Ramskapelle, in a box ... leave it to me; grace and mercy, master judges; cursed tormentor, take the candles away.... He burns me more ... it is in a box with a false bottom wrapped in wool, so as to avoid a noise if any one shakes the box; now I have told all; take me away.”
When he was taken away from before the fire, he smiled maliciously.
“’Tis for comfort at being eased,” replied he.