“Aye,” quoth he, “what is past can never come again.”
Then Nele said:
“If Calleken was faithful, she ought to leave thee alone for thy ill words.”
“He knoweth not how I love him,” said Calleken.
“Dost thou say true?” cried Lamme; “come, darling; come, my wife; there is no longer gray autumn nor winter that diggeth graves.”
And he seemed cheerful, and they came to the ship.
Ulenspiegel gave Lamme the keys of the cage, and he opened it; he tried to pull the monk out on the deck by the ear, but he could not; he tried to fetch him out sideways, he could not do that, either.
“We must break all; the capon is fattened,” said he.
The monk then came forth, rolling about big daunted eyes, holding his paunch with both hands, and fell down on his seat because of a great wave that passed beneath the ship.
And Lamme, speaking to the monk: