Johannes shook his head.
"Well, then, it is not scorn which humiliates, but the doing of unworthy deeds. And those people are not less worthy of my help than they were before. Evil inclinations are good inclinations gone astray."
"Then are there not any wicked people?" asked Marjon.
"Ay, ay! Because there is not a black light, is there therefore no night? Calmly call a villain a villain, but take care that you are not one yourself, Marjon."
"But are there not, for the Father, any evil-doers?" asked Johannes.
"Why should there not be for the Father what there is for us? But He knows—what we do not know—the why and the wherefore."
"But, Markus, I saw what you endured that wretched evening. And it must not be. Must you, then, let what is high and noble be so misunderstood and defiled?"
Markus bowed his head in silence over the coughing monkey. Then he said gently:
"I have suffered, my two dear ones, because my Father has not given me strength enough. Did you not see how they listened to me, and trusted, for an instant? But then my Father, in His own way, which is beyond our comprehension, gave power again to the Evil One. Had I more wisdom I should have been able so to speak that they would have understood me. Thus I suffered doubly: on account of their dulness and wickedness, and from shame, not of them, but because of my own weakness. And this I say, Johannes, that you may know what weakness also there is in one who is stronger than you yourself will ever be."
Johannes, his chin upon his clasped hands, looked at him long and thoughtfully, and then whispered: