Within the room a dead stillness ensued. The dominie's face took on an expression of utter amazement, while he lifted his eyebrows very high, and thrust out his pursed-up lips. Pietekoo tittered in her embarrassment, and then hid her face in her hands. The others looked, now with a puzzled mien at Markus, then in doubtful expectation at Aunt Seréna, with distrust at Johannes, with very expressive glances at one another, and finally, with pretended absorption in their hand-work. The silence was still unbroken. "Will you take something?" asked Aunt Seréna. "Yes, Madam, a bit of bread," said Markus, in his calm, gentle voice. "Would you not rather have a glass of wine, and some cake?" "No, Madam, if you will excuse me; I prefer common bread." The dominie thought it time to intervene. He was stung by the censure conveyed in Markus' refusal. "The Scripture teaches, my friend, that we should eat what is set before us, when we are guests." "Do you take me for a theologian--or for an apostle?" asked Markus. "He has the gift of gab," said Mevrouw Slot, in her coarse voice. In those pure accents which held Johannes breathlessly attentive, Markus continued: "I will even sit at table with witches, but not necessarily eat of their food." "Dear me! Dear me!" said the dominie, and the ladies cried: "Good gracious!" and other exclamations of disapproval and indignation. "Be a little less uncivil, friend; you are not with your own kind here." Markus continued, in a calm, friendly tone: "Theologians, however, thank God for many a rude truth, and know, also, how to take parables. Even when with cannibals, an apostle need not eat human flesh." Widow Slot, who alone of all in the circle seemed to have retained her coolness, here interposed: "We have not improved, yet." Markus turned toward her and said with great earnestness: "Who are they who have their portion? Are not the poorest ones they who drink wine and eat cake, and yet produce not even bread? Every day they sink deeper into debt. I prefer to eat honest food." "You mistake, my man! I have no debts!" cried Aunt Seréna, with trembling lips. "But, Aunt Seréna, he does not mean that," said Johannes, as much moved as herself. "Children must be silent, here!" cried the dominie, angrily. "If the children are silent here, who is there to speak sense?" continued Markus. And then, with a gentle, penetrating voice, he addressed Aunt Seréna. "Whoever will not listen to children, the Father will not understand. I spoke in metaphor--in a simple way, for simple people. The whole world is a metaphor, and not a simple one. If we do not yet understand such a simple metaphor, then the world must indeed remain a sad riddle." The dominie held his peace, and smoked fiercely; but Aunt Seréna thought it over, looking in front of her, and said; "All understanding comes through the light of grace."