Again Lamme would have cast himself on the ice, but an old Beggar held him back, saying to him:
“The floor is damp, you might get your feet wet.”
And Lamme fell on his behind, weeping and saying without ceasing:
“My wife, my wife! let me go to my wife!”
“Thou shalt see her again,” said Ulenspiegel. “She loves thee, but she loves God more than thee.”
“The mad she-devil,” cried Lamme. “If she loves God more than her husband, why does she show herself to me lovely and desirable? And if she loves me, why does she leave me?”
“Dost thou see clear in a deep well?” asked Ulenspiegel.
“Alas!” said Lamme, “I shall die before long.”
And he stayed upon the deck, livid and distraught.
Meanwhile, had come up the men of Simonen-Bol, with a great artillery.