"He surely will not come here," said Johannes.
"Why not?"
Johannes could not explain why, but the countess said:
"Then we will go to Holland and have him come to our club."
That gave Johannes a thrill of joy. But ah! he realized at the same time how cold and unresponsive he had become to the beautiful which had brought him thither. The two children were indeed just as captivating, but they did not give him the same happiness as before. And he began gradually to dislike Van Lieverlee.
In Holland, Countess Dolores dwelt in a villa between a large town and the ocean. And when Johannes was there again, and, though knowing better, was expecting to re-see his beloved dunes, then, for the first time, he felt convinced that Pan was indeed dead, and Windekind's kingdom at an end.
Civilization had conquered the dunes. Long, straight, barren streets led out to them, and house after house, all exactly alike—as tedious as they were ugly—lined the comfortless way. Sand drifted through the dreary, brick-paved streets, and shavings, bits of tin, and great pieces of tattered wall-paper were strewn about the intervening spaces. Buildings were being put up everywhere. Of the beauty and mystery of the dunes there was nothing left—only dismal, dust-littered heaps of sand.
The ocean also was spoiled for Johannes, for here there were great crowds of people, come for the sake of society, or else for the music. And even when they were gone there still remained the ugly buildings they had erected.
Countess Dolores seemed indeed to share Johannes' aversion and disappointment. Not so Van Lieverlee. Here he was in his element—dressing himself most gorgeously, making visits, and attending the principal clubs, restaurants, and concerts.