The Legend of Ulenspiegel by Charles de Coster Book V Chapter 10

Nele, as she fell, rubbed her eyes and saw naught save the sun rising amid gilded mists, the tips of the blades of grass all golden also and the sunrays yellowing the plumage of the sea mews that slept, but soon awakened.
Then Nele looked on herself, perceived that she was naked, and clothed herself in haste; then she beheld Ulenspiegel naked also and covered him over; thinking him asleep, she shook him, but he moved no more than a man dead; she was taken with terror. “Have I,” she said to herself, “have I slain my beloved with this balsam of vision? I will die, too! Ah! Thyl, awaken! He is marble cold.”
Ulenspiegel did not awake. Two nights and a day passed by, and Nele, fevered with anguish, watched by Ulenspiegel her beloved.
It was the beginning of the second day, and Nele heard the sound of a bell, and saw approaching a peasant carrying a shovel: behind him, wax taper in hand, walked a burgomaster and two aldermen, the curé of Stavenisse, and a beadle holding a sunshade over him.
They were going, they said, to administer the holy sacrament of extreme unction to the valiant Jacobsen who was a Beggar by constraint and fear, but who, now the danger was past, returned into the bosom of the Holy Roman Church to die.
Presently they found themselves face to face with Nele weeping, and perceived the body of Ulenspiegel stretched out upon the turf, covered with his clothes. Nele went upon her knees.
“Daughter,” said the burgomaster, “what makest thou by this dead man?”
Not daring to lift her eyes she replied:
“I pray for my friend here fallen as though smitten by lightning: I am all alone now and I am fain to die, too.”
The curé then puffing with pleasure:
“Ulenspiegel the Beggar is dead,” he said, “God be praised! Peasant, make haste and dig a grave; strip off his clothes before he be buried.”
“Nay,” said Nele, standing straight up, “they are not to be taken from him, he would be cold in the earth.”
“Dig the grave,” said the curé to the peasant who carried the shovel.
“I consent,” said Nele, all in tears; “there are no worms in sand that is full of chalk, and he will remain whole and goodly, my beloved.”
And all distraught, she bent over Ulenspiegel’s body, and kissed him with tears and sobbing.
The burgomaster, the aldermen, and the peasant were filled with pity, but the curé ceased not to repeat, rejoicing: “The great Beggar is dead, God be praised!”
Then the peasant digged the grave and placed Ulenspiegel therein and covered him with sand.
And the curé said the prayers for the dead above the grave: all kneeled down around it; suddenly there was a great upheaving under the soil and Ulenspiegel, sneezing and shaking the sand out of his hair, seized the curé by the throat:
“Inquisitor!” said he, “thou dost thrust me into the earth alive in my sleep. Where is Nele? hast thou buried her, too? Who art thou?”
The curé cried out:
“The great Beggar returneth into this world. Lord God! receive my soul!”
And he took to flight like a stag before the hounds.
Nele came to Ulenspiegel.
“Kiss me, my darling,” said he.
Then he looked round him again; the two peasants had fled like the curé, and had flung down shovel and chair and sunshade to run the better; the burgomaster and the aldermen, holding their ears with fright, were whimpering on the turf.
Ulenspiegel went up to them, and shaking them:
“Can any bury,” said he, “Ulenspiegel the spirit and Nele the heart of Mother Flanders? She, too, may sleep, but not die. No! Come, Nele.”
And he went forth with her, singing his sixth song, but no man knoweth where he sang the last one of all.