The Legend of Ulenspiegel Volume I Part 49

"Robber, do not say so," rejoined Katheline; "he is a devil, a devil. And for proof, I will show you the parchment he left in the yard; there is written upon it: 'Never forget to do my service. In thrice two weeks and five days I shall return thee the twofold of the treasure. Have no doubt, else thou shalt die.' And he will keep his word, I am convinced and sure."

"Poor witless one!" said Soetkin.

And that was her last word of reproach.

Lx.x.xIII

The two weeks having thrice pa.s.sed by and the five days as well, the lover devil never came back. And still Katheline lived without despairing of it.

Soetkin, never working now, remained continually in front of the fire, coughing and bent. Nele gave her the best and most fragrant herbs: but no remedy had power upon her. Ulenspiegel never left the cottage, fearing that Soetkin might die while he was abroad.

Then it came that the widow could neither eat nor drink without vomiting. The barber surgeon came and bled her; the blood being taken from her, she was so weak that she could not leave her stool. At length, withered up with sorrow and pain, she said one evening:

"Claes, my husband! Thyl, my son! I thank thee, G.o.d who takest me away!"

And she died on a sigh.

Katheline not daring to watch by her, Ulenspiegel and Nele did it together, and all night long they prayed for the dead woman.

At dawn there entered by the open window a swallow.

Nele said:

"The bird of souls, 'tis a good omen: Soetkin is in heaven."

The swallow flew round the chamber thrice and went off with a cry.

Then there entered a second swallow, bigger and blacker than the other. It circled around Ulenspiegel, and he said:

"Father and Mother, the ashes beat against my breast, I shall do what ye ask."

And the second went away crying shrill like the first. The day showed brighter; Ulenspiegel saw thousands of swallows skimming the meadows, and the sun arose.

And Soetkin was buried in the field of the poor.

Lx.x.xIV

After Soetkin's death, Ulenspiegel, dreamy, sorrowful, or angry, wandered about the kitchen, hearing nothing, taking what food or drink was given him, without choosing. And he often rose at night.

In vain did Nele with her soft voice exhort him to hope. Vainly did Katheline tell him that she knew Soetkin was in paradise with Claes. To all Ulenspiegel replied:

"The ashes are beating."

And he was as a man distraught, and Nele wept to see him in this plight.

Meanwhile, the fishmonger remained in his house alone like a parricide, and dared not go forth save by night; for men and women, pa.s.sing near him, hooted him and called him murderer, and children fled before him, for they had been told that he was the executioner. He wandered alone and solitary, not daring to go into any of the three taverns of Damme; for he was pointed at in them, and if he merely remained standing for a minute inside, the drinkers went away.

Hence it came that the baesen wished not to see him again, and if he presented himself, shut their door to him. Then the fishmonger would offer a humble remonstrance: they would reply that it was their right and not their obligation to sell.

Tired of the struggle, the fishmonger used to go to drink in 't Roode Valck, at the Red Falcon, a little wine shop away from the town on the edge of the Sluys Ca.n.a.l. There they served him; for they were grubbing folk to whom any money was welcome. But the baes of the Roode Valck never spoke a word to him nor did his wife. There were two children and a dog in the house: when the fishmonger would have caressed the children, they ran away; and when he called the dog, the dog tried to bite him.

One evening Ulenspiegel stood on the threshold: Mathyssens the cooper, seeing him so pensive and dreaming, said to him:

"You should work with your hands and forget this sad blow."

Ulenspiegel answered:

"The ashes of Claes beat against my breast."

"Ah," said Mathyssens, "he leads a sadder life than thou, the wretched fishmonger. No man speaks to him, and everyone flees from him, so that he is driven to go among the poor ragam.u.f.fins at the Roode Valck to drink his quart of bruinbier by himself. 'Tis a sore punishment."

"The ashes beat!" said Ulenspiegel again.

That same evening, while the clock on Notre Dame was striking the ninth hour, Ulenspiegel went towards the Roode Valck, and seeing that the fishmonger was not there, he went wandering under the trees on the edge of the ca.n.a.l. The moon was s.h.i.+ning bright and clear.

He saw the murderer coming.

As he pa.s.sed before him, he could see him near at hand, and heard him say, speaking aloud like those who live alone:

"Where have they hidden these carolus?"

"Where the devil has found them," answered Ulenspiegel striking him full in the face with his fist.

"Alas!" said the fishmonger, "I know thee who thou art, thou art the son. Have pity, I am old and weak. What I did, it was not for hate, but to serve His Majesty. Deign to pardon me. I wilt give thee back the furniture I purchased, thou wilt not have to pay me one single patard for it. Is not that enough? I paid seven gold florins for them. Thou shalt have all and a demi-florin to boot, for I am not rich, it must not be imagined."

And he would have gone on his knees before him.

Ulenspiegel, seeing him so ugly, so trembling, and so cowardly and mean, flung him into the ca.n.a.l.

And he went away.

Lx.x.xV

On the doomfires smoked the fat of the victims. Ulenspiegel, thinking of Claes and Soetkin, wept in solitude.

One night he went to find Katheline and ask her for a remedy and for vengeance.