"It is not wicked to long for love or power or honor, when those things are our due because of our being wise and good. But that which he covets comes not to the jealous one, nor power to him who thirsts for it, nor honor to the over-ambitious. The things longed for will not satisfy them. Nor are eating and drinking bad in themselves, but they are only for those who have need of them."
At that moment the door was unlocked. As it swung open the nurse said that the time was up, adding:
"Perhaps you may come again to-morrow."
"Will he have to stay here?" asked Marjon, as they were on their way down the long hall.
"Well," replied the nurse, "they may indeed shut up quite a lot more. He can deal with the violent ones better than the professor can. There was one here who gave us a lot of trouble, because he wouldn't eat. He'd thrown his plate at me head. Look here! What a cut! But your brother had him eating inside of ten minutes."
"Will he soon be free?" asked Johannes.
"They ought to make him a professor," was the reply. "I've heard they're to examine him to-morrow."
Little was said while Johannes was accompanying Marjon to the boarding-house in which she now lived. It was kept by one of Markus's friends, a workman in the iron foundry. The man was called Jan van Tijn, and was foreman of the hammer-works. He earned sixteen guldens a week, and had nine children. His dwelling had three small rooms and a kitchen, and there twelve persons had to sleep—father, mother, nine children, and the boarder. But Juffrouw van Tijn was still young, with a fresh face and a pair of strong arms, and she made light of her work.
"If there are to be still more of us," said Jan, "we must begin to lie in a row—spoon-fashion."