"Whither are you going?" she asked him. "To put on my best clothes," he replied. "Very well," she said. Then the lady sat herself down on the bench, close to the doorstep, and tried to talk to Nele. But Nele would not answer her, for she was jealous. It was not long before Ulenspiegel returned, well washed and clothed in fustian. He looked fine in his Sunday clothes, the little man. "Are you really going off with this fine lady?" Nele asked him. "I shall soon be back," he told her. "Let me go instead of you," said Nele. "No," he said, "the roads are muddy." "Why, little girl," said the lady, who was annoyed and jealous now in her turn, "why do you try to hinder him from coming with me?" Nele did not answer, but great tears gushed from her eyes, and she gazed at the fine lady in sadness and in anger. Then the four of them started off, the dame seated like a queen upon her ambling palfrey, the attendant with his belly that shook with every step, Ulenspiegel holding the lady's horse by the bridle, and Bibulus Schnouffius walking at his side, tail proudly in air. Thus went they on horseback and on foot for some long while. But Ulenspiegel was not at his ease; dumb as a fish he sniffed the fine scent of benjamin that floated from the lady, and saw out of the corner of his eye all her beautiful gear, rare jewels and trinkets, and the sweet expression of her face, her bright eyes, and bare neck, and her hair that shone in the sunlight like a hood of gold. "Why are you so quiet, my little man?" she asked him. He answered nothing. "Do you keep your tongue so deep in your boots that you could not take a message for me?" "What is it?" said Ulenspiegel. "I would have you leave me here," said the dame, "and go to Koolkercke, from whence this wind is blowing. There you will find a gentleman dressed in black and red motley. Tell him that he must not expect me to-day, but let him come to-morrow evening to my château, by the postern gate, at ten o' the clock." "I will not go," said Ulenspiegel. "Why not?" asked the lady. "I will not go, not I," Ulenspiegel said again. "What can it be," the lady asked him, "what can it be that inspires you with this unyielding will, you angry little cock?" "I will not go," Ulenspiegel persisted. "But if I gave you a florin?" "No," said he. "A ducat?" "No." "A carolus!" "No," Ulenspiegel repeated, "although"--and this was added with a sigh--"I should rather see it in my mother's purse than a mussel-shell!" The dame laughed, then suddenly cried out in a loud voice: "My bag! I have lost my little bag! Beautiful it was and rare, made of silk, and sown with fine pearls! It was hanging from my belt when we were at Damme!" Ulenspiegel did not budge, but her attendant came up to his lady. "Madame," said he, "whatever else you do, be careful not to send this young robber to look for it, for so you will certainly never see it again." "Who will go then?" asked the lady.