Johannes ate with them, and although not very hungry, because of his anxiety, he enjoyed his food. And after they had had their late afternoon coffee, and the younger children had gone to bed--when Van Tijn had returned from his work, and with a certain solemn thoughtfulness had filled his pipe and was silently smoking it--then Johannes felt wonderfully at peace. He had not known such peace in a long time. Very little was said. Outside, the twilight was falling; indoors, the only light was from the little flame under the coffee-pot. The women, too, were tired, and sat listening to the sounds in the street. And Johannes knew that they were all thinking of the friend in the asylum. * * * * * That evening, when he was again in the handsome, luxurious villa, everything seemed strange and distasteful. In the brightly lighted drawing-room, chatting in a low tone, Van Lieverlee sat close beside the lady of the house, with an intolerable air of being the rightful lord of the manor. Johannes merely wanted to bid them good-night. "Have you found your poor friend?" asked Van Lieverlee, in his most condescending manner. "Yes, Mijnheer," replied Johannes. And then, after some hesitation: "Can anything be done to get him out promptly?" "My dear boy," said Van Lieverlee, "it is not to be desired, either for his own sake or that of society. I am not a doctor, but that he belongs where he is I can see at once, as could any layman. What do you think, Dearest?" Dolores nodded languidly, and said: "My heart was touched for the man--he has a fine face. And have you noticed, Walter, what a splendid baritone voice he has?" "Yes," said Van Lieverlee; "it is a pity he is out of his head. What a good singer of Wagner he might be! An excellent Parsifal! Do you not think so, Dolores?" "A splendid Parsifal! Perhaps he may get well yet," added the countess. "Oh, no," said Van Lieverlee. "That sort of prophet-frenzy is incurable. I know indeed of so many cases." For an instant Johannes stood hesitating. Should he give vent to what was boiling in his breast? But he was older now, and he curbed himself. Before he went to sleep he resolved: "This is my last night here." XVII Again they stood on the steps of the gloomy building--the three--Johannes, Marjon, and Keesje. It was a bleak day, and Keesje's thin little black face peeped out from under a thick shawl. "Just go into the doctor's room, will you?" said the doorkeeper. "The doctor wishes to speak with you. The professor is there, also," he added, importantly. And when Marjon would have gone with them, he extended his hand as if to stay her, saying, "Pardon, but the lady and the little one weren't invited." Without replying, Marjon turned round to Johannes and said, "Then I'll wait for you at the house. Will you come soon?" * * * * *