Frise, Drenthe, Overyssel, Gueldre, Utrecht, Noord Brabant, Noord and Zuid Holland; Walcheren, Noord and Zuid Beveland; Duiveland and Schouwen which together make up Zeeland; the sea-bordering lands to the north from Knokke to Helder; the isles of Texel, Vlieland, Ameland, and Schiermonik Oog--all were being delivered from the Spanish yoke, from the Eastern Scheldt to the Oost Ems. And Maurice, the son of William the Silent, was continuing the war. Ulenspiegel and Nele kept still their youthfulness, their strength and their beauty, for the Love and the Spirit of Flanders never grow old. And they lived happily at the Tower of Neere, waiting for that day when, after so many cruel trials, they would be able to breathe the breath of liberty upon their native land of Belgium. Ulenspiegel had asked to be made governor and guardian of the Tower. For he had, so he said, the eyes of an eagle and the ears of a hare, and so he would be able to see at once if the Spaniard ever dared to show himself again in the lands that had been delivered from his yoke. Then quickly would he sound the wacharm, the alarm-bell as we call it in our tongue. To this request the magistrate consented, and in virtue of the good service he had rendered, Ulenspiegel was allowed a florin every day, two pints of beer, a ration of beans, cheese, biscuits, and three pounds of beef weekly. And so did Ulenspiegel and Nele live on the Tower together very happily, having joy to see in the distance the free isles of Zeeland, and near at hand the woods and castles and fortresses, and the armed ships of the Beggarmen that guarded the coast. At night they would often mount to the top of the Tower, and there they would sit together on the flat roof, talking of many a stern battle and telling many a tale of love, past and to come. And from their Tower they could see the ocean, which, when the weather was hot, furled and unfurled along the shore its shining waves, and threw them upon the island-coasts like wraiths of fire. And among the polders the will-o'-the-wisps would come a-dancing. And Nele was afraid of them, for she said they were the souls of the poor dead. And true it was that all those places where they danced had once been fields of battle. And the will-o'-the-wisps would oftentimes spring forth from the polders, and run along the dikes, and then return again to the polders, as though unwilling to leave the bodies whence they had come. One night Nele said to Ulenspiegel: "Behold how many spirits there are in Dreiveland, and how high they fly! Over there by the Isle of Birds they seem to crowd the thickest. Will you come with me there one night, Tyl? We would take with us the balm that can show us things invisible to mortal eyes." But Ulenspiegel answered: "If you mean the balm we took when we went to the great Sabbath of Spring, I have no more faith or confidence in what we saw there than in any idle dream."