Red Nose were to assemble after vespers to celebrate the deliverance of the commune by the women and girls in olden time.
Ulenspiegel, spying from far off a pole surmounted by a popinjay, and all around goodwives armed with bows, asked if women were becoming archers nowadays.
The tramp, sniffing up the odour of the sauces, replied that in the days of the Good Duke those same bows, in the hands of the women of Uccle, had laid low more than a hundred brigands.
Ulenspiegel, desiring to know more of this, the tramp told him that he would not say another word so hungry and so thirsty was he, unless he gave him a patard for food and drink. Ulenspiegel gave it him out of pity.
As soon as the tramp had his patard, he went into the Trumpet Inn, like a fox into a henroost, and came out in triumph with half a sausage and a great hunch of bread.
All at once Ulenspiegel heard a soft noise of tambourines and viols, and beheld a great troop of women dancing, and among them a comely matron with a gold chain about her neck.
The tramp, who laughed for joy at having had something to eat, told Ulenspiegel that this handsome young woman was the Queen of the Archery, was called Mietje, the wife of Messire Renonckel, the sheriff of the commune. Then he asked Ulenspiegel for six liards for drink: Ulenspiegel gave them to him. Thus having eaten and drunken, the tramp sat down in the sun and picked his teeth and trimmed his nails.
When the women archers caught sight of Ulenspiegel in his pilgrim’s array, they set to work dancing about him in a ring, saying:
“Good morrow, handsome pilgrim; do you come from far away, youngling pilgrim?”
Ulenspiegel replied:
“I come from Flanders, a fine country rich in loving girls.”
And he thought sadly of Nele.
“What was your crime?” they asked him, desisting from their dancing.
“I would not dare to confess it,” said he, “so great a one it was. But I have other things that are not small.”
They smiled at that and asked why he must travel in this wise with staff and scrip and oyster shell.
“Because,” said he, lying a little, “I said that masses for the dead are of advantage to the priests.”
“They bring them in good coin,” replied they, “but they are of advantage to souls in purgatory.”
“I wasn’t there,” rejoined Ulenspiegel.
“Will you eat with us, pilgrim?” said the prettiest of the archers.
“I will gladly eat with you,” said he, “and eat you, and all the others turn about, for you are titbits for a king, more delicious than ortolans or thrushes or woodcocks.”
“God give you food,” said they, “this is game beyond price.”
“Like all of you, dear ones,” he answered.
“Aye, verily,” said they, “but we are not for sale.”
“And for the giving?” he asked.
“Ay,” said they, “of blows to the overbold. And if you need it, we will thrash you like a sheaf of corn.”
“I abstain therefrom,” said he.
“Come eat,” said they.
He followed them into the court of the inn, happy to see these fresh faces about him. Suddenly he beheld entering the court with high ceremony, with banner and trumpet and flute and tambourine, the Brothers of the Good Red Nose, wearing in fatness the jolly name of their fellowship. As they looked curiously upon him, the women told them it was a pilgrim they had picked up by the way and that finding him a true Red Nose, and matching their husbands and betrotheds, they had been minded to make him share their feast.
The men approved their tale, and one said:
“Pilgrim on pilgrimage, wouldst thou pilgrimage through sauces and fricassees?”
“I shall have seven-leagued boots for that,” said Ulenspiegel.
As he was on the point of entering the hall of the feasting with them, he descried on the road to Paris twelve blind men trudging along. When they passed before him, complaining of hunger and of thirst, Ulenspiegel said to himself that they would sup that night like kings, at the charge of the dean of Uccle, in memory of the masses for the dead. He went to them and said:
“Here be nine florins, come and eat. Do ye smell the good fragrance of the fricassees?”
“Alas!” said they, “for the last half of a league, and no hope.”
“You shall eat,” said Ulenspiegel, “now you have nine florins.” But he did not give them.
“A blessing on thee,” said they.
And guided by Ulenspiegel, they sat down around a small table, while the Brothers of the Good Red Nose sate at a great one with their goodwives and sweethearts.
Speaking with full assurance of nine florins:
“Host,” said the blind men, proudly, “give us to eat and drink of your best.”
The host, who had heard a mention of the nine florins, believed them to be in their pouches, and asked what they wished to have.
Then all of them, speaking at once, cried out:
“Peas with bacon, a hotchpotch of beef, veal, mutton, and fowl.” – “Are sausages meant for dogs?” – “Who ever smelled the passing of black puddings and white, without seizing them by the collar? I used to see them, alas! when my poor eyes were candles to me.” – “Where are the koekebakken au beurre of Anderlecht? They sing in the pan, succulent and crisp, mother of quart draughts.” – “Who will bring under my nose ham and eggs or eggs and ham, those tender brothers and close friends in the mouth?” – “Where are ye, divine choesels, swimming, proud viands that you are, in the midst of kidneys, of cockscombs, of riz de veau, of oxtails, sheep’s trotters, and abundant onions, pepper, cloves, nutmeg, all in the stew and three quarts of white wine for sauce?” – “Who will bring you to me, divine andouilles, so good that ye say no word when ye are swallowed? Ye came ever straight from Luy-leckerland, the rich country of the happy do-naughts, the lickers up of never-ending sauces. But where are ye, withered leaves of bygone autumns!” – “I want a leg of mutton with beans.” – “I want pigs’ plumes, their ears.” – “For me a rosary of ortolans, with woodcocks for the Paters on it and a fat capon for the Credo.”
The host answered sedately:
“You shall have an omelette of sixty eggs, and for guiding posts for you spoons, fifty black puddings, planted smoking hot on this mountain of nourishment, and dobbel peterman to wash all down with: that will be the river.”
The water came into the mouths of the poor blind men and they said:
“Serve us the mountain, the guideposts, and the river.”
And the Brothers of the Good Red Nose and their goodwives already at table with Ulenspiegel said that this day was for the blind the day of invisible junketing, and that the poor
