And Ulenspiegel did as Lamme wished, and the monk was put in a cage, and all could contemplate him at their leisure.
Lamme had gone down into his galley; Ulenspiegel followed and heard him disputing with Nele:
“I will not lie down,” he was saying, “no, I will not lie down to have others groping and fumbling with my sauces; no, I will not stay in my bed, like a calf!”
“Do not be angry, Lamme,” said Nele, “or your wound will reopen and you will die.”
“Well,” said he, “I will die: I am tired of living without my wife. Is it not enough for me to have lost her, without your trying furthermore to prevent me, me the master cook of this place, from myself keeping watch over the soup? Know ye not that there is a health inherent in the steam of sauces and fricassees? They even nourish my spirit and armour me against misfortunes.”
“Lamme,” said Nele, “thou must needs hearken to our counsel and let thyself be healed by us.”
“I am fain to let myself be healed,” said Lamme: “but rather than another should enter here, some ignorant good-for-naught, a frowsy, ulcerous, blear-eyed, dropping nosed fellow, and come to king it as master cook in my place, and paddle with his filthy fingers in my sauces, I would rather kill him with my wooden ladle, which would be iron for that task.”
“All the same,” said Ulenspiegel, “thou must have an assistant; thou art sick....”
“An assistant for me,” said Lamme, “for me, an assistant! Art thou then stuffed with naught but ingratitude, as a sausage is full of minced meat? An assistant, my son, and ’tis thou that dost say so to me, thy friend, who have nourished thee so long time and so succulently! Now will my wound reopen. False friend, who then would dress thy food like me? What would ye do, ye two, if I were not there to give thee, chief-captain, and thee, Nele, some dainty stew or other?”
“We will work ourselves in the galley,” said Ulenspiegel.