“It is not the moaning wind that you give ear to?”
“No,” she said again.
“Nor to the merry din that our valiant sailors are making in the tavern close by?”
“Death cometh as a thief,” she said.
“Death!” said Ulenspiegel. “I do not understand thee; come inside and speak.”
“They are there,” she said.
“Who?”
“Who?” she answered. “The soldiers of Simonen-Bol, who are to come, in the name of the duke, to throw themselves on all of you; if you are so well treated here, it is like the bullocks that are meant for the slaughter. Ah! why,” said she all in tears, “why did I not know it save but just now.”
“Do not weep, nor cry out,” said Ulenspiegel, “and stay where you are!”