From that day forth the publican-carpenter went neither to church nor to confession, not even at Easter, and was in the eyes of every one “a downright liberal.” At the elections, he filled in his voting ticket with his own name. When Hommels abused the Curé, and scoffed at religion, then Knoups laughed till he shook all over. And when the ex-burgomaster Kormann exhorted him to return to the bosom of Holy Church, Mathis would answer:
“Paja! the whole business isn’t worth a cent!” or, “Mind your own business, and let me attend to mine—every one ought to know what he’s about!”
That every one ought to know his own business best, he maintained with equal consistency when Geutruu went with Hubertienke and the other children to church on Sundays. Hommels, indeed, laughed at this curious compromise between man and wife; but Geutruu would reply, when teased on the subject:
“I can’t bring up the children like heathen savages, can I?”
The breach between Mathis Knoups and the Church had lasted quite three years, when, one baking day in July, the lightning struck Haffert church, and the whole roof was burnt off.
Knoups looked important and thoughtful, as he remarked:
“I should like to know who’s going to put the new roof on?”
“Why, I suppose the Curé will somehow beg the money for it!” said Hommels, who did not exactly see the connection.
The thought of the new roof pursued Mathis night and day. He knew very well how he would do it—he had some choice timber lying by that would just do—he trimmed the rafters—he made all sorts of calculations, and was able to tell his guests to a cent that evening how much the new roof ought to cost—not an oortje[[24]] more. But, when talking to his wife alone, he said, half vexed and half sad:
“The Curé is sure to take care to get another builder into Haffert this time!”