Johannes shook his head.
"He has had a great sorrow, Marjon; his father has just died."
Marjon looked at him again, gently and good-naturedly, and then gave him her hand, with the very same, quick gesture of confidence a monkey employs when he recognizes his master.
"Good-by, till morning," she said, as the two passed out of the rear door of the tent.
Outside, the moon was shining, and, since the rain had stopped, the Fair-people had become still more jolly and noisy.
Well, well! How ugly they were! How clumsily they danced, and how badly they sang! The men and women were now standing in circles, their arms interlocked, with one another's hoods and caps on, ready to spring into the street, and to shriek out, in their harsh voices, songs without sense or tune. All their faces were wanton, vacant, or downright dissipated, and most of them were flushed with excitement or with drink.
Johannes saw mothers, too, with infants in their arms, and leading little children by the hand, coming out of the fritter-stalls, dragging themselves along through the crowds. The tavern doors flew open, and the rude Fair-goers bounced outside. Here and there, on the street corners, a fierce quarrel was in progress, with a close ring of on-lookers gathered around. Nothing more that was pretty, or nice, or pleasing, was in sight. Everywhere there was raving and ranting and bawling; with a thousand dissonant noises, and a wretched stench.
The only exception was a squad of six soldiers, passing calmly and quietly, with regulated step, through the throng, in single file. It was the patrol. Johannes knew it, and it gave him a feeling of rest and contentment, as if there was something else in human beings save rudeness and debauchery; that a little self-restraint and worthiness still remained.
Up above—beyond that petty tumult—beyond that ruddy flaming and flickering, the moon was shining, silver-white and stately. Johannes looked up longingly.
He found his task an awful one, and the people worse than he had expected. But of one little being he thought with tenderness; and in her case he would persevere.