"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."