Yet, after that first meeting of which I have told you in the preceding chapter, Johannes observed that he came oftener than before, and also at unconventional hours; and when Johannes came into the room he noticed that the conversation between the countess and the priest was suddenly broken off. He saw, also, that his hostess had more color in her cheeks, as if she had been speaking of weighty matters. "Your Mahatma does not come," said Dolores once, when, after such a time as this, the priest had just taken his leave. "He has turned his back upon us." "Yes, Mevrouw," Johannes was forced to admit. "I think myself very fortunate in having found a wise man who can help me." "Do you mean Father Canisius?" "Yes. Do you know what he says? That we are on a dangerous road in the pursuit of our object. It is all the work of the devil, he declares. And everything he says agrees with what we heard that evening. Would you not like to have a chat with him?" But Johannes hesitated. He had not yet spoken to Marjon, and was hoping to hear from her something concerning his brother. Marjon evaded him, and he had not found an opportunity to meet her alone. Every morning he went to his room with a beating heart, hoping to find her there busied in putting it to rights; but generally it was already in order, and he found merely the traces of her care: his clothing brushed and folded, his linen looked over and nicely placed in the linen-press, and fresh flowers in the little vase on his table. He observed everything, and was deeply touched by it. But she seemed careful to be always in company with the other servants, and to bear herself as stiffly and coldly as the most pert, demure, and well-trained chambermaid possibly could. Not a word nor a look nor a sign betrayed her acquaintance with Johannes; and he often heard the countess declare to her visitors that she had never before found so quickly a good Dutch servant. Neither had Van Lieverlee recognized her, but was simply struck with her peculiar, somewhat alien manner, which led him to ask the lady of the house if she knew the origin of the girl. "No," said the countess; "she was recommended to me by an old friend, and apparently she deserves all that was said of her." * * * * * But Johannes' yearning for Markus grew stronger every day. He both dreaded and longed for his coming, and he wished that in some way he might be delivered from his uncertainty. Therefore he was ever on the alert to seize an opportunity for speaking with Marjon alone. One evening he detained her in the hall under the pretense of inquiring about his shoes. "Where did you leave Keesje?" he asked in a low voice. "You know very well," replied Marjon, curtly, and in the same low tone. Johannes did indeed know, and for that very reason he had asked the question. "Yes, but where is he who has Keesje?" "I do not know; and even if I did, I would not tell you. He knows his time."