But that pale face, with the puffs, the spectacles, the clear eyes, as seen in the little mirror, continued to follow Johannes in a very disconcerting way. The reflector was double, and Johannes felt certain that his aunt now sat before the other side, and that the fixed eyes were watching him. "Have you any aunts, Marjon?" "How do I know? Maybe," laughed Marjon. "Your father, then?--Is he dead?" Marjon lowered her voice a little, and, in a more serious manner, began a confidential explanation of an important matter: "I do not know, Jo. My mother is dead. She was a lion-tamer, and met with an accident. She is buried in Keulen; but my father was rich, and he may be living still. So you see I may have aunts--a lot of them--rich ones, perhaps." "Have you never seen your father?" asked Johannes, speaking softly himself, now. "No, never! But Lorum says" (Lorum was the ring-master) "that he was a count and had a castle." "I can well believe that," said Johannes, looking at her admiringly. "Yes, but Lorum tells lies." That cast a shadow over Johannes' beautiful imaginings. Later, he often had occasion to experience the untruthfulness of Lorum. It was a hot noon-time when they entered the town. Those afoot were tired and irritable, and the customary visit to the municipal authorities concerning positions was attended with no little quarreling and swearing. The empty, darkened parlors of the stately houses looked cool and alluringly tranquil. Bright housemaids came to the doors to see the circus-troup go by, and they chatted and giggled with one another. Outside the town a large, grass-grown place was pointed out, where the dwelling-wagons might stand. So they were all in a circle--twenty or more of them--from the big, two-horsed leading wagons, freshly painted, with dainty curtains, flower-pots, gilded decorations, bird-cages and carvings, to the rickety, home-made wagons, constructed of old boards, patched up with bits of canvas and sheet-iron, and drawn by a man and a dog. And now the steaming dust-covered horses were unharnessed, the hay and straw--which had been pilfered or begged--spread out, fires were started, and preparations made for a hasty meal. It was a lively, bustling camp. Markus was there, too. His new scissors-cart with its window-glass stood beside Marjon's wagon glittering in the sunshine. He was thoughtfully walking around among the people with Johannes, exchanging greetings with everybody, and carrying on brief conversations. His raincoat and cap were packed away, but his coat and trousers were the same, for he had no others. He had on now a very broad-brimmed straw hat, such as can be purchased at the Fairs for two stuivers. Johannes much preferred to see him in this, and was pleased to note how the hat became his long, dark hair.