That was a painful moment; yet there quickly followed in Johannes' heart a delightful glow—a feeling of freedom such as he had never yet known. He almost felt himself a man. He had extricated himself from soft and perilous ways; he was going out into the wide world; he would find his beloved brother again; he had a bagful of rolls, and in his waistcoat were five gold-pieces. These last were only lent to him; he would earn as much, and give them back again.
It was a still, humid, August day, and Johannes, full of gladness, saw his beautiful native land lying in white light under a canopy of delicate grey. He saw thickly wooded dikes, black and white cattle, and brown boats in water without a ripple. He walked briskly, inquiring everywhere for Markus the scissors-grinder. In front of an inn, not far from the city, sat three little gentlemen. They were apparently government or post-office clerks, who had taken their midday stroll and their glass of bitters.
Johannes asked information of the waiter who brought drinks, but received no answer.
One of the little dandies, who had heard his question, said to his companions:
"Jerusalem! but did you chaps hear that kicker? The fellow went into the new church yesterday morning, and talked back at the dominie."
"What fellow?" asked the others.
"Good Lord! Don't you know him? That half-luny fellow with the black curly-pate? He does that now and then."
"Gee! That's rich. And what did the dominie say?"
"Well, he found it no joke, for the fellow knew all about it—as darned well as he did himself. But the gypsy had his trouble for his pains; for that time the dominie wouldn't have anything to do with such a dirty competitor!"