“Rahel had baked some dumplings, so the doctor told me to stay.”
“Then go to bed now. But first take some food to the groom in the stable, and put fresh linen on my bed. Be in the workshop early to-morrow morning, there is a horse to be shod.”
The boy looked up thoughtfully and replied: “Yes, but the doctor has changed the hours; to-morrow the lesson will begin just after sunrise, father.”
“Very well, we’ll do without you. Good-night then.”
The monk followed this conversation with interest and increasing disapproval, his face assuming a totally different expression, for the muscles between his nose and mouth drew farther back, forming with the underlip an angle turning inward. Thus he gazed with mute reproach at the smith for some time, then pushed the goblet far away, exclaiming with sincere indignation:
“What doings are these, friend Adam? I’ll let the Jew’s wine pass, and the dumplings too for aught I care, though it doesn’t make a Christian child more pleasing in the sight of God, to eat from the same dish with those on whom the Saviour’s innocent blood rests. But that you, a believing Christian, should permit an accursed Jew to lead a foolish lad. ...”
“Let that pass,” said the smith, interrupting the excited monk; but the latter would not be restrained, and only continued still more loudly and firmly: “I won’t be stopped. Was such a thing ever heard of? A baptized Christian, who sends his own son to be taught by the infidel soul-destroyer!”
“Hear me, Father!”
“No indeed. It’s for you to hear—you! What was I saying? For you, you who seek for your poor child a soul-destroying infidel as teacher. Do you know what that is? A sin against the Holy Ghost—the worst of all crimes. Such an abomination! You will have a heavy penance imposed upon you in the confessional.”
“It’s no sin—no abomination!” replied the smith defiantly.