the good and noble prince!' and many are the tears that will be shed!' "And now I hear no more," said Nele, "for His Sacred Majesty has laid him down to sleep. And King Philip, that proud and haughty prince, stands gazing at him with loveless eyes." And when she had thus spoken, Nele was awakened from her trance by Katheline. And Claes gazed thoughtfully into the fire as it flamed and lit up all the chimney. XXXV It was the month of April. The weather had been mild, but now there was come a sharp frost and a sky grey and overcast as it were the sky of All Souls' Day. The third year of Ulenspiegel's banishment had long since passed, and Nele was waiting day after day for the return of her lover. "Alas!" she cried, "there will be snow on the pear-trees, and snow upon the flowering jasmines, and on all the poor plants that have bloomed in confidence of the mildness and the warmth of an early spring. Already from the sky little snowflakes are falling on the roads. And on my poor heart as well the snow is falling. "Where, oh where are the bright rays of sunshine that should be playing now on our happy spring-time faces--and upon red roofs that were used to grow the redder for that warmth, and on window-panes that flashed as they caught that sunny brightness? Where indeed are those flaming beams that kindled earth to life again, and the sky, and the birds, and the insects? Alas! For day and night am I chilled by sorrow and long waiting. Oh where, where are you, my lover Ulenspiegel?" XXXVI That Sunday there was held at Bruges the Procession of the Holy Blood. Claes told his wife that she and Nele ought to go and see the procession, and that if they did so, it was not impossible they might find Ulenspiegel in the city. As for himself, he would stay behind and look after the cottage and be ready to welcome their pilgrim if he should return. So the two women went off together. Claes remained at home and sat himself down on the doorstep and gazed into the deserted village street. All was quiet as the grave, except now and again for the crystal sound of the bell of some village church, or, rising and falling with every little gust of wind from Bruges, the far-off music of the carillon and the sound of the guns and fireworks that were being let off in honour of the Holy Blood. But in spite of all these sounds of joy, Claes was filled with sadness, scanning the grey mist that hung over the fields for a sight of his son, and trying to hear his footfall in the jolly rustling of leaves and gay concert of birds as they sang among the trees. Suddenly he noticed a man coming down towards him on the road from Maldeghem. It was a man tall of stature, but it was not Ulenspiegel. And presently Claes saw him come to a stand beside a field of carrots, and bend down to eat of the vegetables as if he were starving for food. "There's a hungry man sure," said Claes to himself.