It was a merry morning trip. Both of the little girls went with them, and Johannes carried a small folding chair, and his friend's book. The countess took a seat in a beach-chair, and Johannes sat at her feet and read aloud to her, while the two children--their skirts tucked up, and their little feet and legs bare and pink in the clear light--busied themselves in the water and sand, with their pails and shovels. Everything was flooded with sunshine, and clearly, beautifully tinted:--the knotted blonde tresses of the little girls--beneath their broad-brimmed white beach-hats--against the delicate blue of the horizon; the still deeper blue of the sea wherein could be seen the bright figures of the bathers in their red and blue bathing-dresses; and right and left the pure white sand, and the snowy foam. Johannes had indeed become quite accustomed to what had so pained him at first--the profanation of the sea by human beings--so they were happy hours. He resolved this morning to resume his inquiries after Markus, as soon as he was at liberty to do so. They had not been sitting long on the beach when Van Lieverlee came sauntering-up, arrayed in white flannel. He was without a waistcoat, but wore a lilac shirt, and a wide, black-silk girdle, and had on a straw hat. He gave the countess a graceful cordial greeting, and immediately said to Johannes, this time without irony: "I sent to my uncle, this morning, for information. Your friend is not there now. He received his discharge last Saturday on account of his disorderly conduct." "What had he done?" asked Johannes. "He had delivered an address at the exchange when, mark you, he had gone there on a matter of business. Now," said Van Lieverlee, looking at the countess with a smile, "it is quite obvious that a man of affairs could not retain such a clerk as that. It takes my uncle Van Trigt, who is so jealous of his good name, to deal with such cases." "Yes, I understand," said Dolores. "It depends, though, upon what he said," ventured Johannes. "No! One talks about business at the exchange--not about reason and morality. There is a time and a place for everything. My uncle was well satisfied with him in all else. He had taken him for a rather well-bred person, he said. But the man has a remarkable propensity for discoursing in public places." "Where is he now?" "Where is any idler who has received his discharge? Off looking for an easy berth, L should say." "Is your friend so very poor?" asked the countess, in a serious whisper, as one would speak over the shame of a kinsman. "Of course," replied Johannes, with a positiveness that was a challenge. "Indeed, he would be ashamed not to be poor."