This morning their father cursed me on father's account, saying it was his fault that everything was going to destruction.

Will there be no bread again to-day, mother?
Barbara has some biscuit, and I feel so sick.

I can't swallow the everlasting meal any longer." "Perhaps there will be a slice.

We must save the baked food, child." In the entry of her house Maria found a man-servant, clad in black.

He had come to announce the death of Commissioner Dietrich Van Bronkhorst.
The plague had ended the strong man's life on the evening of the day before, Sunday.
Maria already knew of this heavy loss, which threw the whole responsibility of everything, that now happened, upon her husband's shoulders.