His manner pleased the countess. Smiling most sweetly she said: "Surely, my boy! Rank has nothing to do with the higher knowledge." Then to Van Lieverlee, in English, with that characteristic, cool loftiness of the English, who suppose the hearer does not understand their language: "Really, he is not so bad?--not so very common!" But Johannes had learned English at school; yet, because he was still such a mere boy, with so little self-consciousness, he felt flattered rather than offended. He said--using English now, himself: "I am not good yet, but I will try my best to become so." This word fell again upon good ground, with mother and daughters. There came to Johannes that exhilarating sensation of making conquests; he, Little Johannes--a brief while ago the scissors-grinder boy--at present a singer of street songs--_he_, in a world of supremely refined spirits, with a beautiful countess, all decked with glittering jewels, and her two enchanting little daughters! And that, not on account of birth or patronage, but through his own personal powers. If he could only see Wistik again, now--how he would boast of it! But, suddenly, to his honor be it said, something else occurred to him: "My comrade, Mevrouw! May we both go?" "Who is your comrade? How did you meet him?" Whoever had heard Johannes then would not have said that, only so short a time ago, he had thought slightingly of his little friend. He stood up for her warmly, described her natural goodness and her unusual talents,--yes even drew on his imagination for her probable noble origin, until it ended in his having touched the heart of Countess Dolores. But, in his enthusiasm, he said, by turns, "he" and "she," so that one of the little girls, being observing, as children usually are, abruptly asked: "Why do you say 'she'? Is it a girl?" Then Johannes confessed. It could do no harm here, he thought--among such high-minded people. Blushing more deeply than ever, he said: "Yes, it is really a girl. She is disguised, so as not to fall into anybody's hands." Van Lieverlee looked at Johannes very sternly and critically, without making any comment. The little girls, with a serious air, said: "How lovely!" Mevrouw laughed, rather nervously: "Oh, oh! That is romantic. Almost piquant. Then let her come, but in the clothing that belongs to her, if you please." "And the monkey, Mama? Will the monkey come, too?" asked Olga, the elder. "Oh, lovely, lovely!" cried Frieda, clapping her hands. "No, children; it is not to be thought of. Of course, you understand, Johannes, that the monkey cannot come with you. He would have a very bad influence. Would he not, Van Lieverlee?"