Oftentimes would Nele and Ulenspiegel wander together along the roads. Nele would lean on the arm of Ulenspiegel, and hang round him with her two hands. Ulenspiegel loved this little game, and often did he pass his arm about Nele's waist, to hold her the better, as he said. And she was happy, but spake not a word. Softly along the roads blew the wind, wafting the scent from the fields; the sea boomed in the distance, rocking lazily in the sun; Ulenspiegel seemed like some youthful devil, all pride; and Nele like a little saint from Paradise, half shy of her happiness. She leant her head against Ulenspiegel's shoulder, and her hand was in his, and as they passed along he kissed her forehead, and her cheek, and her sweet lips. But still she spake no word. After some hours they grew hot and thirsty, and they drank milk at the house of a peasant; and yet they were not refreshed. Then they sat them down on the grass by the side of the ditch, and Nele seemed pale and pensive, and Ulenspiegel looked at her, afraid that something was amiss. "You are unhappy?" said she. "Yes," he admitted. "But why?" she asked him. "I know not," said he. "But these apple-trees and cherry-trees all in flower, this air so warm that one would say it was charged with lightning, these daisies that open their blushing petals to the fields, and oh, the hawthorn, there, close by us in the hedge, all white.... Will no one tell me why it is that I feel troubled, and always ready to die or to go to sleep? And my heart beats so strangely when I hear the birds awaken in the trees, and when I see the swallows coming home! Then I am fain to go away beyond the sun and beyond the moon. And sometimes I am cold, and then again I am hot. Ah, Nele! would that I were no longer a creature of this low world! Verily I would give my life a thousand times to her that would love me!" Yet Nele spake not at all, but smiling at her ease sat looking at Ulenspiegel. XXIII One Day of All Souls, Ulenspiegel went forth from Notre Dame with certain other vagabonds of his own age. Among them was Lamme Goedzak, who seemed strayed among them like a lamb in the midst of a herd of wolves. Lamme treated them with drinks all round, for his mother, as her custom was on Sundays and feast days, had given him three patards. So he went with his companions to the tavern In dem Rooden Schildt--at the sign of the Red Shield. Jan van Liebeke kept the house, and he served them with dobbel knollaert from Courtrai. They began to be warmed with the drink, and the talk turned on the subject of prayer, and Ulenspiegel declared quite openly that, for his part, he thought that Masses for the dead did nobody any good, except the priests who said them.