"I saw somebody, yesterday. Can you think who it was?"
Marjon's pale, dull face lighted up suddenly, and she stared at Johannes with fixed, bright eyes.
"Markus!" said she. Johannes nodded assent, and she continued:
"Thank God! I felt it. I heard that the laborers about here were soon to go on a strike, and then I supposed-well—Now everything will be all right again!"
Then she was silent, eating her bread contentedly. A little later, she asked:
"Where are you going? Is it far? What have you agreed to do?"
"I have settled nothing," said Johannes. "But I will go to him with you before long. It is not far." Then, affecting to make light of it, he said: "I have had an invitation to the hotel."
"Gracious!" said Marjon, under her breath. "The deuce is to pay again."
In the park Johannes met Mijnheer van Lieverlee. He stood on the grass in front of a thicket of withered shrubs, gazing at the mountains; and was clad in cream-white flannel, with a bright-purple silk handkerchief in his breast pocket. One hand rested upon his ebony walking-stick; with the other—thumb and forefinger pressed together, and little finger extended—he was making rhythmical movements in the air.