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?"