Then the priest stepped forward, and gripped Markus by the wrist. The latter made no resistance, but cried in a loud voice that reverberated through the church: "Do your work, Caiaphas!" After that he suffered himself to be led away to the sacristy. While the congregation still sat, spellbound and motionless, Johannes hastily writhed his way out between the benches and the throngs of people. Father Canisius returned, now quite calm and far less red. And while the sacristan with broom and dust-pan swept up the fragments and put them into a basket, the priest turned toward the audience and said: "Have sympathy with the poor maniac. We will pray for him." After that, the service proceeded without further disturbance. XVI In a dreary district of the city, at the end of a long, lonely street, stands a long, gloomy building. The windows--all of the same form--are of ground glass, and the house itself is lengthened by a high wall. What lies behind this wall the neighbors do not know; but sometimes strange noises are borne over it--loud singing, yelling, dismal laughter, and monotonous mutterings. On the steps of this house, silent, and with earnest faces, stood Johannes and Marjon. The latter had on a simple, dark gown, and she carried Keesje on her arm. The door was opened by a porter wearing a uniform-cap. The man gave them, especially the monkey, a critical, hesitating look. "That will not do," said he, drily. "You must leave your little ones at home when you come here to make visits." "Come," said Marjon, without a smile at his jest, "ask the superintendent. My brother is so fond of him, and I do not dare leave him at home." They had to wait awhile in the vestibule. At first they said not a word, and Keesje was very still. Then, scratching Keesje's head, Johannes quietly remarked, "He has grown thin." "He has a cough," said Marjon. At length the doorkeeper came back, with the superintendent. Johannes instantly recognized in the tall, spare gentleman, the slovenly black suit, the gold spectacles, and the bushy white hair, his old friend Dr. Cijfer. "Whom have they come to see?" he asked. "The new one who was brought in yesterday--working-class," said the doorkeeper. "Violent?" asked the doctor. "No, quiet, Doctor. But they want to take their monkey with them." "Why so, young people?" asked Dr. Cijfer, frowning at the monkey over the top of his spectacles in a most objectionable manner, to the discomfiture of Keesje. "Doctor Cijfer, have you forgotten me?" asked Johannes. "Wait," said the doctor, giving him a sharp look, "are you the boy who assisted me some time ago, and then ran away? Your name, indeed, was Johannes, was it not?" "Yes, Doctor." "Ah, yes," said the doctor, reflecting. "A rather queer boy, with some talent. And there is a brother of yours here? I always thought there were hereditary _moments_ in your family. You were a queer boy."