“Aye,” said Ulenspiegel, “’tis she that leadeth in Beelzebub’s name, down the path of sin fifteen lovely girls of amorous life, which find with her shelter and food, but it is forbidden to them to sleep there.”
“Do you know this convent?” said Lamme.
“I am going to look for your wife therein. Come.”
“No,” said Lamme, “I have taken thought and will not go in.”
“Wilt thou let thy friend expose himself all alone in the midst of these Astartes?”
“Let him not go there,” said Lamme.
“But if he must go in to find the Seven and your wife?” replied Ulenspiegel.
“I would rather sleep,” said Lamme.
“Come on then,” said Ulenspiegel, opening the door and thrusting Lamme in front of him. “See, the baesine stays behind her casks, between two candles; the chamber is large, with a roof of blackened oak with smoked beams. All around reign benches, lame-legged tables covered with glasses, quart pots, goblets, tankards, jugs, flasks, bottles, and other implements of drinking. In the middle are still more tables and chairs whereon are enthroned odds and ends, the which are women’s capes, gilded belts, velvet shoes, bagpipes, fifes, shawms. In a corner is a ladder leading to the upper story. A little bald hunchback plays on a clavecin mounted on glass feet that make the sound of the instrument grating. Dance, my fat lad. Fifteen lovely ladies are sitting, some on the tables, some on the chairs, a leg here, a leg there, bending, upright, leaning on an elbow, thrown back, lying on their back or on their side, at their pleasure, clad in white, in red, their arms bare like their shoulders, too, and their bosom down to the waist. There are some of every kind; choose! For some the light of the candles, caressing their fair hair, leaves in the shadow their blue eyes, of which nothing can be seen but the gleaming of their liquid fire. Others, looking at the ceiling, sigh to the viol some German ballade. Some round, brown, plump, brazen-faced, are drinking from full tankards Amboise wine, and show their round arms, bare to the shoulder, their half-opened dress, whence come out the apples of their breasts, and shamelessly talk with their mouths full, one after the other or all at once. Listen to them.”
“A straw for money to-day! it is love we must have, love at our own choice,” said the lovely ladies, “child’s love, youth’s love, whoever pleases us, and no paying.”—“Yesterday was the day when one paid, to-day is the day when one loves!” “Who so would fain drink at our lips, they are still moist from the bottle. Wine and kisses, it is a whole feast!” “A straw for widows that lie all alone!” “We are girls! ’Tis the day of charity to-day. To the young, the strong, and the comely, we will open our arms. Something to drink!” “Darling, is it for the battle of love that your heart is beating the tambourine in your breast! What a pendulum! ’Tis the clock of kisses. When will they come, full hearts and empty purses? Do they not scent out dainty adventures? What is the difference between a young Beggar and Monsieur the Markgrave? Monsieur pays in florins and the young Beggar in caresses. Long live the Beggar! Who will go and wake up the graveyards?”