"Then you think, children, that all sorrow suffered is one single sorrow? But so is all happiness one happiness. The Father suffers with everything, and whoever comforts a poor little kitten, comforts the Father." These sayings made things more plain to Johannes, and gave him much to ponder over. He forgot everything else, until they were again in their lodgings--two little rooms in an old, unoccupied mill. Here they were given some bed-clothes, by a girl from a near-by lodging-house. Marjon now slept apart, while Johannes and Markus stayed together, in one room. The next morning, while they were drinking coffee in the dark little bar-room of the lodging-house, Johannes felt he must speak of what lay on his heart. He brought out the fragrant, violet-colored note, also the one adorned with the crown and the blue sealing-wax; but in his diffidence even his hope of an understanding with Markus drooped again. "I smell it already!" cried Marjon. "That's the hair-dresser scent of that fop, with his tufted top-piece." That angered Johannes. "Don't you wish you could make such poems as that 'fop' can?" And, nettled by this disrespect of his new friend, he sprang to his feet, and began excitedly repeating the verses. He had his trouble for his pains. Markus listened with unmoved countenance, and Marjon, somewhat taken aback, looked at Markus. But the latter said not a word. "I'll tell you what," she exclaimed at last, "I don't believe a bit of it! Not a darn bit." "Then I'll tell you," retorted Johannes, sharply, "that you are too rude and coarse to understand things that are elevated." "Maybe I am," said Marjon in her coolest, most indifferent manner. Then Johannes spoke to Markus alone, hoping for an understanding from him. What he said came out passionately, as if it had long been repressed, and his voice trembled with ready tears.