"I think such men insufferable!" exclaimed Van Lieverlee. "As Socrates said, their conceit can be seen through the holes in their clothes. Without even opening their mouths they--every one of them--seem to be forever preaching morals and finding fault. I hate the tribe. They are of all men the most turbulent and dangerous." Johannes had never yet seen Van Lieverlee so angry, but he remained cool throughout the tirade, and kept his temper. The countess said in a languid voice: "He certainly is very immoderate. I cannot say, either, that such pronounced types are to my taste." Johannes was silent, and the other two talked together a while longer. The children came up nearer, and lying down in the clean, clear sand, they listened to the conversation. It was a bright group, for they were all dressed in white, except Johannes. At last Van Lieverlee rose to go, and the countess, clinging to his hand, with a certain warmth of manner said: "Of course you are coming to dinner?" "Most assuredly!" replied Van Lieverlee. * * * * * After he had gone, there were several moments of constrained silence--a sort of suspense so obvious that even the children did not resume their chatter as usual, but continued silently playing with the sand, as if waiting for something to be said. Johannes also began to comprehend that something was pending, but he had no idea of what it could be. At last the lady said, rather hesitatingly, while tracing all kinds of curious figures in the sand, with her parasol: "Have you not observed anything, Johannes?" "Observed anything? I? No, Mevrouw," replied Johannes, with some discomposure. He surely had observed nothing. "I have!" said Olga, decidedly, without looking up. "I, too!" lisped Frieda after her. "Hear the little smarties!" said Mevrouw, laughing in confusion, and blushing. "Well, what have you observed?" "A new papa!" replied Olga. "A new papa!" repeated Frieda. Johannes looked up in some surprise and perplexity, into the beautiful, laughing eyes, and exquisite, blushing face of his friend. Her laugh was a confirmation; and accompanying her question with a shake of the head, she continued: "Really, do you not understand yet?" "No," replied Johannes, in all seriousness. "Who is the new papa?" "There he goes," said Olga, pointing with her little white finger after Van Lieverlee. And Frieda, too, stretched out her little hand in his direction. "Fie, children! Do not point," said Mevrouw. And Johannes began to comprehend--much as one does who has fallen out of a window, or has been struck on the head with a stone. As in the latter case, his first thought was astonishment at the cause of the blow, and that he could possibly survive it.