“I think you would not answer me,” returned Johannes, “if I were to ask you if you were mad.”
The two learned men exchanged smiles.
“That is a somewhat different situation,” said Bommeldoos, haughtily.
“He was not questioned in such a blunt manner as that,” explained Doctor Cijfer. “I asked about his extraction, his age, the health of his father and mother, about his own youth, and so forth—the usual memory promptings. Will you not give us some further information concerning him? Remember, it is of real importance to your brother.”
“Mijnheer,” said Johannes, “I know as little as yourself about all that....”
There was a knock at the door. The nurse came and said, “Here is the patient.” Then he let Markus in....
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.