The man was the director of a Flea-Theatre; a little fellow, with a husky voice, and eyes inflamed by his fine work. "Markus? I'm not sure. But come along--there's no knowing but he might be there." "Are you looking for new apprentices?" asked Johannes. "Do you happen to have any? They're worth a pretty penny, you know!" * * * * * They walked together to the camp of gypsy wagons, near the town. Johannes found there all the old acquaintances. There was the fat lady, who could rest a plate upon her bosom and thus eat out of it. Now, however, she was eating simply from a box, like the others, because there were no spectators. There were the mother and daughter who represented the living mermaid, taking turns because one could not hold out very long. There was the exhibitor of the collection of curiosities --a poor, humpbacked knave whose entire possessions consisted of a stuffed alligator, a walrus-tooth, and a seven-months baby preserved in alcohol. There were the two wild men, who, growling horribly, could eat grass and live rabbits, and who might come out of the wagon only at night, when the street boys were away; but who, far from savage now, were sitting in the light of a flickering lantern, "shaving" one another with exceedingly dirty cards. The flea-tamer brought Johannes at last to Marjon's wagon. "Bless me!" cried Lorum, who seemed to be in a good humor as he sat by the road smoking his pipe. "Here is our runaway young gentleman again! Now the girls will be glad!" From behind the wagon came the soft tones of a voice, singing to a zither accompaniment. Johannes could hear the song distinctly, in the dreamlike stillness of the hour. It was sung in a whining, melancholy, street-organ style, but with unusual emotion: "They have broken my heart-- Ah, the tears I have shed! They have torn us apart-- His dear voice is now dead. Alas! Alas! How could you forsake me? Alas! Alas! How you have deceived me!" It was a ditty that Johannes thought he had often heard the nurse-maids sing. But, because he recognized that dear voice, and perhaps even because he was worried over the applicability to himself, he was greatly touched by it. "Hey, there!" cried Lorum to one behind him. "The kid has come back! Stop your squalling!" Then Marjon appeared from behind the wagon, and ran up to Johannes. Also, the door of the wagon flew back, and Johannes saw Marjon's sister standing in the bright opening. Her fat arms were bare, and she was in her night-gown. XI Since that first night in the dunes with Windekind, Johannes had slept many a time in the open air, and he did not see why he should not now do so. He would lie down under the wagon, upon some hay. He was tired, and so would sleep well.