“I will not, big man,” rejoined the monk.
And the woman remained all pale and swooning, and on her knees with hands folded she besought Broer Adriaensen.
And Lamme said to the monk:
“Take off thy curse, else thou shalt hang, and if the rope breaks because of thy weight, thou shalt be hanged again and again until death ensues.”
“Hanged and hanged again,” said the Beggars.
“Then,” said the monk to Calleken, “go, wanton, go with this big man; go, I lift my curse from thee, but God and all the saints will have their eyes upon thee; go with this big man, go.”
And he held his peace, sweating and puffing.
Suddenly Lamme cried out:
“He puffs, he puffs! I see the sixth chin; at the seventh ’tis apoplexy! And now,” said he to the Beggars:
“I commend you to God, thou Ulenspiegel; to God, you all my good friends, to God, thou Nele; to God the holy inspirer of liberty: I can do no more for her cause.”