"It seems to me, Colleague, that we might better see him face to face. We can then, perhaps, get on better than when apart."
Bommeldoos nodded solemnly, and passed his hand over his mighty forehead. A servant came in.
"Will you bring the patient Vis from the ward of the calm patients, working-class?"
"Very well, Doctor."
The servant vanished, and for several minutes afterward it was as still as death in the study. The two learned men stared at the carpet quite absorbed in thought—not minding delay—after the manner of deep thinkers. Johannes heard the clock ticking on the mantel, the faint music from an out-of-doors band playing a merry march, the sound of hurrahs, and the clatter of horses' hoofs on the cobblestone pavement. The royal wedding-festivities were still in progress, and Johannes could mentally see the two people who at that moment were bowing and waving as they sat in their carriage. There was a knock at the door. The nurse came and said, "Here is the patient." Then he let Markus in, remaining himself to look on.
"I will ring for you," said Dr. Cijfer, with a gesture. The nurse disappeared.
Markus had on a dark-blue linen blouse, such as all the patients of the working-class wear. He stood tall and erect, and Johannes observed that his face was less pale and sad than usual. The blue became his dark curling hair, and Johannes felt happy and confident as he looked at him—standing there so proud and calm and handsome.
"Take a seat," said Dr. Cijfer.
But Markus seemed not to have heard, and remained standing, while he nodded kindly and reassuringly to Johannes.
"Observe his pride," said Professor Bommeldoos, in Latin, to Dr. Cijfer.