And all distraught, she bent over Ulenspiegel’s body, and kissed him with tears and sobbing.
The burgomaster, the aldermen, and the peasant were filled with pity, but the curé ceased not to repeat, rejoicing: “The great Beggar is dead, God be praised!”
Then the peasant digged the grave and placed Ulenspiegel therein and covered him with sand.
And the curé said the prayers for the dead above the grave: all kneeled down around it; suddenly there was a great upheaving under the soil and Ulenspiegel, sneezing and shaking the sand out of his hair, seized the curé by the throat:
“Inquisitor!” said he, “thou dost thrust me into the earth alive in my sleep. Where is Nele? hast thou buried her, too? Who art thou?”
The curé cried out:
“The great Beggar returneth into this world. Lord God! receive my soul!”
And he took to flight like a stag before the hounds.
Nele came to Ulenspiegel.
“Kiss me, my darling,” said he.