Then the chief gave the signal, for which the police had so long waited, and declared in a hard, impartial voice that the place must be vacated. And this work was expedited, with the calm satisfaction of officials who had indeed hoped that matters would end thus--as usual. The Roodhuis family and the Van Tijns remained with Markus, while Johannes and Marjon were a little in the rear. Roodhuis and Van Tijn wished, they said, to protect Markus if he should need their help. Markus said, "No need." "Please, Markus," pleaded Van Tijn, "don't think it means so much. I know the workmen. They fly off the handle so easily, but by morning they'll shriek something else. They're not so bad--only a bit rough, you know--sort o' half wild yet. Will ye believe me, Markus, and not despise 'em for't, nor turn yer back on 'em for't, Markus?" "No, Jan, surely not, if only I have the strength," said Markus, in a hoarse, unsteady voice. XX One chilly autumn day, the three sat together in a gloomy bar-room, just as formerly they had done in the small mining town. And, also, the fourth one was there, but in a pitiable condition. Keesje lay in Markus' lap, under a covering of faded, old red baize. His little black face was as full of folds as an old shoe, his body wasted away, and he was panting and gasping for breath. A hairy little arm came out from under the red baize, and a long, slim black hand clasped Markus' thumb; and whenever Markus had occasion to use his hand, one could see the little black monkey-hand stretch out and feel around, while the brown eyes looked restlessly backward, as if now all safety were gone. They were in the total-abstainers' coffee-house, for Roodhuis continued to proffer hospitality to Markus, although this did not help his business. After that indignation meeting Markus' stay with Roodhuis was made an excuse by all his friends for their avoidance of the coffee-house. Except Van Tijn and a few other independent ones, none of the old customers returned; but Roodhuis would not permit Markus to go away on that account. "Now, you must never again lower yourself for that rabble that doesn't understand you, anyway, and isn't worth the trouble," said Marjon, with the pride of one who knows what takes place in high circles, and esteems one's self of better origin. "Tell me, Johannes, what you would do," said Markus, kindly, while he warmed Keesje's little hand in his own. "I do not know, Markus," replied Johannes. "It was a wretched evening, for I could not endure that it should cost you so dearly. But if they had done it to me I would not have cared." "That is right," said Markus. "And now, my dear Johannes, do not think that I am less submissive than yourself. Did you indeed fancy it?" Johannes shook his head. "Well, then, it is not scorn which humiliates, but the doing of unworthy deeds. And those people are not less worthy of my help than they were before. Evil inclinations are good inclinations gone astray."