The latter, seeing him:
“Messire Dean,” said he, “what would you of my poor self?”
“Nothing but thy good, my son,” replied he.
“Alas!” groaned Ulenspiegel, “is it that which you see on the table?”
“The same,” replied the dean.
Then putting out his hand, he swept the table clean of all the money that was upon it and dropped it into a bag destined for it.
And he gave a florin to Ulenspiegel, who pretended to groan and whine.
And he asked for the implements of the miracle.
Ulenspiegel showed him the schol bone and the bladder.
The dean took them while Ulenspiegel bemoaned himself, imploring him to be good enough to give him more, saying that the way was long from Bouillon to Damme, for him a poor footpassenger, and that beyond a doubt he would die of hunger.