Ulenspiegel, meanwhile, had arrived in his wanderings at the
fish-market at Liege. There he descried a tall young fellow carrying
under his arm a net filled with all sorts of poultry, and another net
also which he was rapidly filling with haddock, trout, eels, and pike.
Ulenspiegel recognized him as none other than his old friend Lamme
Goedzak.
"What are you doing here, Lamme?" he said.
"You must know," Lamme answered, "that many people have lately
emigrated from Flanders to this gentle land of Liege. As for me,
I follow my loves. And you?"
"I am on the look-out for a master to serve for my daily bread,"
said Ulenspiegel.
"Bread is a dry sort of nourishment," said Lamme. "You would do better
to try a chaplet of ortolans with a thrush for the Credo."
"You have plenty of money?" Ulenspiegel inquired.
Lamme Goedzak made answer:
"I have lost my father and mother, and that young sister of mine that
used to beat me so. I shall inherit all their property, and now I am
living with a one-eyed servant who is very learned in the noble art
of making fricassees."
"Would you like me to carry your fish and your poultry for
you?" suggested Ulenspiegel.
"Yes," said Lamme.
And together they began to wander through the market. All at once
Lamme said to his companion:
"You are mad. Do you know why?"
"No," said Ulenspiegel.
"Because you go carrying fish and poultry in your hand instead of in
your stomach."
"You are right, Lamme," said Ulenspiegel; "but since I have lacked
bread, ortolans will not even look at me."
"You shall eat your fill of them," said Lamme, "and serve me too,
if my cook takes a fancy to you."
While they were walking along, Lamme pointed out to Ulenspiegel a
beautiful young girl, who was walking through the market. She wore a
silk dress and gazed at Lamme with sweet and gentle eyes. An old man,
her father, walked just behind, carrying two nets, one filled with
fish, the other with game.
"See that girl?" said Lamme, pointing at her. "I am going to marry
her."
"Oh!" said Ulenspiegel, "I know her. She is a Flemish maid from
Zotteghem. She lives in the rue Vinave-d'Isle, and the neighbours say
that she lets her mother sweep the road in front of the house in her
stead, while her own father irons her underclothing."
To this Lamme made no answer, but exclaimed delightedly:
"She looked at me just now!"
By this time they were come to Lamme's lodging, near the
Pont-des-Arches. They knocked at the door, and a one-eyed servant
opened to them. Ulenspiegel saw that she was old, scraggy, lank,
and fierce of aspect.
Lamme addressed her as La Sanginne, and inquired if she would take
Ulenspiegel to help in the kitchen.
"I will give him a trial," she said.
"Then take him," said Lamme, "and let him also make trial of the
delights of your kitchen."
La Sanginne put three black puddings on the table, a pint of ale,
and a large loaf of bread. Ulenspiegel set to with a will, and Lamme
began to nibble at one of the puddings.
"Know you," Lamme asked presently, "where it is that our souls abide?"
"No, Lamme," said Ulenspiegel.
"In our stomachs," Lamme told him, "so they can keep them excavated
continually, and for ever renew in our bodies the impulse for
life. And who are the best companions for a man? I'll tell you. The
best companions for a man are all good and jolly things to eat,
and wine from the Meuse to crown all!"
"True," said Ulenspiegel. "A pudding is good company to a solitary
soul."
"He's still hungry," said Lamme to La Sanginne. "Give him some
more." And the woman served him with a second portion of pudding--white
this time.
While Ulenspiegel went on eating, Lamme grew thoughtful.
"When I die," said he, "my stomach will die with me, and down there
in purgatory they will leave me to fast, and I shall have to carry
my poor belly about with me, all empty and limp."
"I like the black ones best," said Ulenspiegel.
"You have eaten six already," said La Sanginne, "and you won't have
any more."
"You may be sure," said Lamme, "that you will be well treated here,
and you will have just the same to eat as I do."
"I shall remember this promise of yours," said Ulenspiegel. But
seeing that what his friend had told him was the truth, Ulenspiegel
was well content, and the puddings that he had swallowed gave him
such courage that on that very day he polished the kettles and the
pots and the pans till they shone like the sun. And he lived happily
in that house, frequenting willingly the kitchen and the wine-cellar,
and leaving the loft to the cats.
One day La Sanginne had two poulets to roast, and she asked Ulenspiegel
to turn the spit while she went to market for some herbs for a
seasoning. The two poulets being well roasted, Ulenspiegel took
one of them and ate it. When La Sanginne returned from the market
she remarked:
"There were two poulets, but now I can only see one."
"Just open your other eye," answered Ulenspiegel, "and you will see
the two of them all right!"
But she was angry, and went to Lamme Goedzak to tell him what had
happened. Lamme came down into the kitchen and said to Ulenspiegel:
"Why do you make fun of my serving-maid? There were certainly two
poulets."
"There were," said Ulenspiegel, "but when I came you told me that I
was to eat and drink just as much as you. There were two poulets. Very
well. I have eaten one, and you will eat the other. My pleasure is
over. Yours is still to come. Are you not happier than I?"
"Yes," said Lamme smiling, "but just you do what La Sanginne tells you,
and you'll find your work halved."
"I will be careful to do as you say," said Ulenspiegel.
So every time that La Sanginne told him to do anything he did but
the half of it. If she asked him to go and draw two pails of water
he would only bring back one; and if she told him to go and fill a
pot of ale at the cask, he would pour the half of it down his throat
on the way--and so on and so on.
At last La Sanginne grew tired of these goings on, and she told Lamme
that either this good-for-nothing fellow must leave the house or she
must leave herself.
Lamme descended on Ulenspiegel and told him:
"You'll have to go, my son, notwithstanding that you have looked so
much better in health since you have been here. Listen to that cock
crowing. And it's two o'clock of the afternoon! That means rain. I am
sorry to have to put you out of doors in bad weather. But there, my
son, you know that La Sanginne is the guardian angel of my life, with
her lovely fricassees. If she were to leave me I might die a speedy
death. I cannot risk it. Go then, my boy, and God be with you, and here
are three florins and this string of saveloys to liven your journey."
And Ulenspiegel departed, crestfallen and with many regrets for Lamme
and his kitchen.