Markus took his place in the middle, between the two children, Keesje sitting upon his shoulder, with one little hand resting confidingly on his cap, attentively studying the thick, dark hair at his temples.
"Markus!" said Johannes. "I do not understand it. Really, what has my grief to do with theirs? And yet, it did seem as if they were crying over my verses. But my little griefs are of so little account, while they are anxious about things so much more important."
"I understand, perfectly," said Marjon. "Awhile ago, they might beat me as hard as they pleased, and I wouldn't utter a sound. But once, when they had given me a hard whipping, I saw a forlorn little kitten that looked quite as unhappy as I was, and then I began to cry with all my might, and it made me feel better."
"Then you think, children, that all sorrow suffered is one single sorrow? But so is all happiness one happiness. The Father suffers with everything, and whoever comforts a poor little kitten, comforts the Father."
These sayings made things more plain to Johannes, and gave him much to ponder over. He forgot everything else, until they were again in their lodgings—two little rooms in an old, unoccupied mill. Here they were given some bed-clothes, by a girl from a near-by lodging-house. Marjon now slept apart, while Johannes and Markus stayed together, in one room.
The next morning, while they were drinking coffee in the dark little bar-room of the lodging-house, Johannes felt he must speak of what lay on his heart. He brought out the fragrant, violet-colored note, also the one adorned with the crown and the blue sealing-wax; but in his diffidence even his hope of an understanding with Markus drooped again.
"I smell it already!" cried Marjon. "That's the hair-dresser scent of that fop, with his tufted top-piece."
That angered Johannes. "Don't you wish you could make such poems as that 'fop' can?"
And, nettled by this disrespect of his new friend, he sprang to his feet, and began excitedly repeating the verses. He had his trouble for his pains. Markus listened with unmoved countenance, and Marjon, somewhat taken aback, looked at Markus. But the latter said not a word.
"I'll tell you what," she exclaimed at last, "I don't believe a bit of it! Not a darn bit."