"Sang de Dieu!" he cried. "What is he doing meddling here, this Marin? This trumpery fellow who before the taking of La Brièle had not so much as the bone of a smoked herring to place between his teeth! He calls himself 'My Lord' forsooth, and 'Master,' and sends to me his 'orders'! He commands and orders! You may tell your master that since he is so much of a Captain and so much of a My Lord, ordering and commanding so excellently well, the monks shall be hanged forthwith, and you with them if you don't get out at once." And he gave the man a great kick and had him removed from the room. "Bring me to drink," he cried. "Have you ever seen anything to compare with the effrontery of this Marin? I could spit my food out, so angry I am. Let the monks be hanged immediately, and let the wandering Fleming be brought hither to me as soon as he has witnessed the execution. We will see if he still dares to tell me that I have done wrong. Blood of God! What are these pots and glasses doing here?" And with a great noise he brake the bowls and dishes, and no one durst say anything to him. The servants would have cleared up the debris but he would not allow them, but went on drinking yet more; and growing more and more enraged he strode up and down the room, treading the broken pieces and stamping upon them furiously. Ulenspiegel was brought before him. "Well?" he said. "What news of your friends the monks?" "They have been hanged," said Ulenspiegel. "And those cowards of executioners, whose game it is to kill for profit, have cut one of them open to sell the fat to an apothecary. And now the word of a soldier is gold no more. Parole de soldat n'est plus parole d'or." Then de Lumey stamped again upon the broken dishes. "So you defy me, do you, you good-for-nothing beast! But you also shall be hanged, not in my barn forsooth, but in the open street, most ignominiously, where all can see you!" "Shame on you," cried Ulenspiegel. "Shame on us all! Parole de soldat n'est plus parole d'or." "Silence, Iron-pate!" said Messire de Lumey. "Shame on you again!" cried Ulenspiegel. "Parole de soldat n'est plus parole d'or. You ought rather to be punishing those rascals that are merchants in human fat!" At this Messire de Lumey rushed at Ulenspiegel and raised his hand to strike at him. "Strike," said Ulenspiegel. "I am in your hands. But I have no fear at all of you. Parole de soldat n'est plus parole d'or." Messire de Lumey drew his sword, and would certainly have killed Ulenspiegel had not Messire Très-Long taken him by the arm, saying: "Have mercy. He is a brave and valiant man and has committed no crime." Then de Lumey thought better of the matter. "Let him ask my pardon then," he said. But Ulenspiegel stood his ground. "Never," he said. "At least he must admit that I was not in the wrong," cried de Lumey, growing angry again. Ulenspiegel answered: "I will lick no man's boots. Parole de soldat n'est plus parole d'or."