"It cannot make any difference to me where we find ourselves, if only I know I am contributing something toward the good life—toward the happiness of all those fine and dear people whom I have seen. But there will be small chance of that, either as piccolo or in a tingel-tangel."
"Children," said Markus, "out of the word springs the deed, and out of the deed springs life. And every one who speaks the good word creates the deed and fosters life."
"Good," said Johannes. "We will speak the word to all who have ears, so long as we shall live; and even if in prison, we shall speak it. And I have not only a mouth, but hands also that are willing to do."
"Such hands will always find something to do—with more to follow; for the word and the deed are like the forest and the rain: the forest attracts the rain, and the rain makes the forest grow."
"But how, then," cried Johannes, "how? I see no way, no opportunity for my deeds."
"Do you remember what I told you about the field-laborers? That tells it all. And this I say to you, Johannes: constant love makes one invincible; love, a sure memory, and patience. For him who draws nigh to the Father, and who forgets not, who remains always the same,—for such a one, although he still be weak, God always opens the way through every obstruction and perplexity. He is like one who continues to urge gently, in one direction, through throngs that go—they know not whither. He will make progress where others lag behind. And think of it, children, the highest and noblest thing you can long for is still only sad and inferior compared with what you can attain through a calm and steadfastly determined love."
The bell which warned the visitors that it was four o'clock, and time to leave, had sounded some time ago, and the ward was nearly empty. The head nurse softly clapped her hands, to indicate to Johannes and Marjon that they must pass on. They were obliged to rise.
Then the door opened, and Professor Snijman came in with two assistants. The professor was a tall man, with a beardless face, and brown hair which curled behind his ears and about his carefully shaven neck. He had a hard and haughty look, with an assumption of stately condescension. With short steps he walked up to Markus' bed, followed by the two young men—his assistants—with little pointed, blonde beards, and in spotless white linen coats.
"Well, well! Come! Visitors still? Not getting on very fast, are you?" said the professor.
At the same time he studied Markus with the cool calculation of a gardener considering whether he will uproot the shrub or let it remain. Then he took Markus' paralyzed hand in his own, and moved it meditatively.