XXI
Having taken Rammekens, Gertruydenberg, Alckmaer, the Beggars came back to Flushing.
Nele, now hale and cured, was waiting for Ulenspiegel at the harbour.
“Thyl,” said she, “my love, Thyl, art thou not wounded?”
Ulenspiegel sang:
“My standards ‘Live’ as motto bear,
Live ever in a sunshine land;
My skin the first is buff well tanned
My second skin is forged of steel.”
“Alas!” said Lamme, dragging a leg, “the bullets, grenades, chain shot rain around him; he feels but the wind of them. Thou art without doubt a spirit, Ulenspiegel, and thou, too, Nele, for I behold thee ever brisk and young.”
“Why dost thou drag thy leg?” asked Nele of Lamme.
“I am no spirit and never will be,” said he. “And so I took an axe stroke in the thigh—how round and white my wife’s was!—see, I am bleeding. Alas! why have I her not here to tend me!”
But Nele, angry, replied:
“What need hast thou of a wife forsworn?”
“Say naught ill of her,” replied Lamme.
“Here,” said Nele, “here is balsam; I was keeping it for Ulenspiegel; put it upon the wound.”
Lamme, having dressed his wound, was joyous, for the balsam put an end to the keen anguish; and they went up again to the ship all three.
Seeing the monk who was walking to and fro there with his hands bound:
“Who is that one?” she said. “I have seen him already and I think I know him.”
“He is worth a hundred florins ransom,” replied Lamme.