"This soldier is to receive fifty strokes from the green wood in my presence for having killed two gentlemen without orders, to the contempt of all discipline. At the same time let him receive a reward of thirty florins for having used his eyes and ears to some purpose." "My Lord," answered Ulenspiegel, "give me the thirty florins first, and I shall then be able to support my beating with equanimity." "Yes, yes," murmured Lamme Goedzak, "give him the thirty florins first, and then he will bear the rest with equanimity." "One thing more," said Ulenspiegel, "since my soul is admittedly free from fault, is there any real reason why I must be cleansed with the wood of the oak or washed with the branch of the cherry-tree?" "No," murmured Lamme again, "Ulenspiegel surely has no need to be washed or cleansed. For his soul is without stain. Do not wash it, my masters, do not wash it." But when Ulenspiegel had received the thirty florins the provost ordered him to give himself up to the Stock-meester. "Behold, my Lords," said Lamme, "behold how piteous he looks. There's no love lost between the hard wood and him--my beloved Ulenspiegel." But Ulenspiegel answered: "Of a truth I love a fine ash-tree in full leaf, growing up towards the sun in all its native verdure, but I agree I loathe like poison these heavy cudgels of wood with their sap still oozing out of them, stripped of their branches and without any leaves or twigs growing thereon, for they are rough to look upon and hard to feel." "Are you ready?" demanded the provost. "Ready?" Ulenspiegel repeated. "Ready for what? Ready to be flogged do you mean? No, I cannot, nor will I, be flogged by you, Mr. Stock-meester. You have a red beard certainly, and your appearance is formidable. Nevertheless, I am sure that you have a kind heart and would have no desire to thrash a poor fellow like me. And now to tell you the truth I should be loath to do such a thing myself, much less to see any one else do it. For the back of a Christian is a sacred thing, as sacred as his breast which holds the lungs, those trusty organs whereby we breathe the goodly air of God. And think how bitter would be your remorse if a too brutal blow from your cudgel should chance to break me in pieces!" "Make haste," said the Stock-meester. "My Lord," said Ulenspiegel, addressing himself to the Prince, "believe me, there is no need for all this hurry. First of all the wood of the cudgel ought to be allowed to dry. For I have heard that wood while still green is like to communicate a mortal poison to any flesh with which it comes in contact. Would your Highness desire to see me die such an ugly death? My Lord, my back I hold most pitifully at your service. Have it flogged, if you must, with rods and lashed with whips. But unless you wish to see me dead, spare me, I pray you, from the wood while it is still green."