Читать книгу The Legend of the Glorious Adventures of Tyl Ulenspiegel in the land of Flanders and elsewhere - Charles de Coster - Страница 7

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When Ulenspiegel returned from Dudzeel and came to the entrance of the town, he saw Nele standing there leaning with her back against the toll-gate. She was picking the stones out of a bunch of black grapes, which she munched one by one, and found therefrom, doubtless, much delight and refreshment; nevertheless, she did not allow anything of her enjoyment to appear on her countenance. On the contrary, she seemed annoyed at something, tearing at the grapes angrily. She looked, indeed, so sad and sorrowful, so sweetly unhappy, that Ulenspiegel felt overcome with that pity which is almost love, and coming up to her from behind, he printed a kiss on the nape of the girl’s neck. But all the return she gave him was a great box on the ear.

“Now I shall not be able to see properly any more,” he said.

She burst into tears.

“O Nele,” says he, “are you going to set up fountains at the entrance of all the villages?”

“Be off with you,” says she.

“But I can’t go away and leave you crying like this, my little pet.”

“I am not your little pet,” says Nele; “neither am I crying.”

“No, you are not crying, but there is certainly some water coming out of your eyes.”

“Will you go away?” She turned on him.

“No,” he answered.

All the time she was holding her pinafore in her small trembling hand, tearing at the stuff in little spasms of rage, and wetting it with her tears.

“Nele,” said Ulenspiegel, “when is it going to be fine again?”

And he smiled at her very lovingly.

“Why do you ask me that?” she said.

“Because when it is fine there is an end of weeping,” answered Ulenspiegel.

“Go back to your beautiful lady of the brocaded gown,” she said. “Your jokes are good enough for her. …”

Then Ulenspiegel sang:

When I see my love crying

My heart is torn.

When she smiles ’tis honey,

Pearls when she weeps.

Either way I love her.

And I’ll draw a draught of wine,

Good wine from Louvain,

And I’ll draw a draught of wine,

When Nele smiles again.

“You villainous man!” she cried, “making fun of me again!”

“Nele,” said Ulenspiegel, “it is true that I am a man. But I am not a villain. For our family is of noble origin, a family of aldermen, and it carries on its shield three pint pots argent on a ground bruinbier. But, Nele, tell me now, is it a fact that in Flanders when a man sows a kiss he always reaps a box on the ear?”

“I refuse to speak to you,” said Nele.

“Then why open your mouth to tell me so?”

“I am angry,” she said.

Ulenspiegel slapped her on the back very lightly with his hand, saying:

“Kiss a naughty girl and she will cuff you; cuff her, she will cry. Come then, sweet, cry upon my shoulder since I have cuffed you!”

Nele turned round. He opened his arms, and she threw herself into them.

“You won’t go away any more down there, will you Tyl?” she asked him.

But he did not answer, busy as he was in pressing with his the hand that trembled so pitifully, and in drying with his lips the hot tears that fell from the eyes of Nele, like heavy drops of rain in a storm.