"Is that enough?"
"So long as we can sleep for nothing at Vrouw Schimmel's and can eat for nothing at the circus. But we cannot do that every day."
Johannes felt greatly discouraged. Already so tired, and so little accomplished! Not enough earned yet for one day's support! How would he ever have enough strength left over to help the people? With his head in his hands he sat staring vacantly at the pavement.
"Tired?" asked Markus, gently. Johannes nodded. Markus spoke again:
"But remember, my boy! This is your first day. It will be easier after you get used to it."
Johannes lifted his weary, disheartened eyes, and looked at his Guide who was patiently engaged in putting something about the cart-axle to rights.
"It is not your first day, though, Markus, is it? It can never be any easier for you. And that ought not to be so. It will never do."
A strange bitterness of thought took possession of Johannes—as if everything were full of fraud and foolishness—as if he himself were made a fool of. What sort of fellow was that, with the long hair, the silly old cap, and frayed-out trousers, who sat there, pottering?
Markus glanced round and looked at him. Immediately Johannes grew ashamed of his thoughts and felt a deep, over-mastering sorrow and sympathy, that He—He who was standing there before him, was obliged to toil so—in poverty and squalor.
This time he burst into unrestrained sobs, he was both so tired and so over-excited. Weeping, he could only utter, "Why is it? I cannot understand. It will never—never!—"