"I believe," said Johannes, "that if he is to be found anywhere, it is among the poor—the laborers."
"Ah! Would you take part in the labor agitation? Well, you can do so, but I do not agree to go with you. You know what I think about that. Socialism has got to come, but I am not going to concern myself with it. It smells too much of the proletariat. I am very glad of the birth of a new society, but a birth is always an unsavory incident. I leave that to the midwife. I'll wait until the infant is thoroughly washed and tidy before making its acquaintance."
"But I wish to look for my friend."
Van Lieverlee stood up and stretched himself.
"You bore me," said he, "with that eternal chatter about your friend."
"Act!" thought Johannes, and he went on:
"You promised to show me the way to what I am seeking, and to give an explanation of my experiences. But I know no more than I knew before."
"Your own fault, my friend. Result of pride and self-seeking. Why have you had so little to do with me? You kept yourself with those two little girls. Did they enlighten you?"
"Quite as much as you did," replied Johannes.
Van Lieverlee looked up in surprise. That was insubordination—open resistance. However, he thought it better to take no notice, so he said: