Nele all this time was living at Damme, sorrowful and alone, with
Katheline, who still continued to call amorously for her cold devil
who never came.
"Ah!" she would say, "you are rich, Hanske my pet; and you could
easily give me back those seven hundred caroluses. Then Soetkin would
live again and come to earth once more, and Claes in heaven would
laugh for joy. Easily could you do this, and you would! Put out the
fire! My soul wants to get out!"
And with her finger she would point without ceasing to the place on
her head where the flaming tow had burned her.
Katheline was very impoverished, but the neighbours helped her by
sending in beans and bread and meat, according as they were able. The
commune also gave her a certain amount of money, and Nele did sewing
for the wealthy bourgeois, and went to their houses to mend their
linen, earning in this way a florin or two every week. But Katheline
kept on with her eternal "Make a hole! Let out my soul! She is knocking
to be let out! And he will give me back the seven hundred caroluses!"
And Nele wept to hear her.