"Alas!" she wept, "it is the black finger-print of the devil!" "Monsieur Satan," said Claes, "must have risen early this morning, if already he has found time to set his sign upon my son!" "Be sure, he never went to bed," answered Katheline. "Here is Chanticleer only just awakening the hens!" And so saying she went out of the room, leaving the baby in the arms of Claes. Then it was that the dawn came bursting through the clouds of night, and the swallows skimmed chirruping over the fields, while the sun began to show his dazzling face on the horizon. Claes opened the window and thus addressed himself to Ulenspiegel. "O babe born with a caul, behold! Here is my Lord the Sun who comes to make his salutation to the land of Flanders. Gaze on Him whenever you can; and if ever in after years you come to be in any doubt or difficulty, not knowing what is right to do, ask counsel of Him. He is bright and He is warm. Be sincere as that brightness, and virtuous as that warmth." "Claes, my good man," said Soetkin, "you are preaching to the deaf. Come, drink, son of mine." And so saying, the mother offered to her new-born babe a draught from nature's fountain. II While Ulenspiegel nestled close and drank his fill, all the birds in the country-side began to waken. Claes, who was tying up sticks, regarded his wife as she gave the breast to Ulenspiegel. "Wife," he said, "hast made good provision of this fine milk?" "The pitchers are full," she said, "but that doth not suffice for my peace of mind." "It seems that you are downhearted over your good fortune," said Claes. "I was thinking," she said, "that there is not so much as a penny piece in that leather bag of ours hanging on the wall." Claes took hold of the bag and shook it. But in vain. There was no sign of any money. He looked crestfallen. Nevertheless, hoping to comfort his good wife-- "What are you worrying about?" says he. "Have we not in the bin that cake we offered Katheline yesterday? And don't I see a great piece of meat over there that should make good milk for the child for three days at the least? And this tub of butter, is it a ghost-tub? And are they spectres, those apples ranged like flags and banners all in battle order, row after row, in the storeroom? And is there no promise of cool refreshment guarded safe in the paunch of our fine old cask of cuyte de Bruges?" Soetkin said: "When we take the child to be christened we shall have to give two patards to the priest, and a florin for the feasting." But at this moment Katheline returned, with a great bundle of herbs in her arms. "For the child that is born with a caul," she cried. "Angelica that keeps men from luxury; fenel that preserves them from Satan...." "Have you none of that herb," asked Claes, "which is called florins?" "No," said she. "Very well," he answered, "I shall go and see if I cannot find any growing in the canal."