And sure enough, as they came nearer, he heard the very same two bird-like little voices which had been ringing in his ears the whole day long, shouting for joy. That was not on account of Little Johannes, but of Keesje. For the first time Johannes was fiercely jealous of him. In a gentle, quieting way, a musical voice called out two names: "Olga!--Frieda!" But Johannes was too much confused and undone to note clearly what he saw. It was they--the two lovely children whom he had first seen in the morning--and they came close up, and spoke to Keesje. Their mother called them again, and then the children coaxed and pleaded, in most supplicating tones, that the delightful monkey might be allowed to come a little nearer--that they might give him some cake, and that he might perform his tricks. It seemed to Johannes as if he were in a dream--as if everything around him were hazy and indistinct. He had felt that way when he stood in Robinetta's house, confronted by those hostile men. But then everything was dismal and frightful, while now it was glad and glorious. He heard, vaguely, the confusing sounds of voices, and the clatter of cups and saucers, and silver utensils. He felt the touch of the children's gentle little hands, and was led to a small table whence the reproving voice had sounded. A lady and a gentleman were sitting there. Some dainties were given to Keesje. "Can you sing?" asked a voice in German. Then Johannes bethought him for the first time that the two little girls had been speaking in English. Marjon tuned her guitar and gave him a hard poke in the side with the neck of it, because she found him getting so flustered again. Then they sang the song that Johannes had completed that morning, and which Marjon had since put to music. "Ah, scarlet geranium, blossom true! Ah, lovely lobelia blue! Why gaze at me so mournfully? Why thus bedight, This morning bright With glistening tears of dew? "Ah! is't remembrance of olden days, When the exquisite nightingale sung? When the fairies danced, over mossy ways, In the still moonlight, 'Neath the stars so bright, When yet the world was young? "Ah, scarlet geranium, blossom true! Ah, lovely lobelia blue! The sun is grown dim, and the sky o'ercast, The winds grow cold, The world is old, And the Autumn comes fast--so fast!" Johannes was singing clearly again. The lump in his throat had gone away as suddenly as it had come. Then he heard the gentleman say in great astonishment: "They are singing in Dutch!" And then they had to repeat their song. Johannes sang as he never yet had sung--with full fervor. All his sadness, all his indefinite longings, found voice in his song. Marjon accompanied him with soft, subdued guitar-strokes, and with her alto voice. Yet the music was entirely hers.