The Quest

"Have you been childish again, Sjaak? I heard you, indeed. No one is forever doomed, I tell you, neither you nor old Bram – if you take care from now on to drink water only, and not gin."

"I swear I will, Marrakus – swear it by God!" said Sjaak, striking himself on the breast.

"You cannot do that, Sjaak; neither would it help. After a half-glass of beer you will have forgotten all your vows."

"No beer, either," said Sjaak. "So help…"

"Be quiet now, Sjaak. Do not talk about it, but let it alone."

"Mar-r-akus," said Old Bram, in a hoarse, quaking voice, at the same time sitting up, with his griffin-like knuckles stretched out over the woollen covers, "tell me now, the honest truth: can it be possible for such a old hulk as me to escape eternal damnation? I'm shy of the priest, but I was brought up a Christian: and now that I can't get no booze here, I settle down in me bed o' nights with the jim-jams, and shake like an earthquake. But if I don't have to go to the devil, they can go to blazes with their bloomin' damnation! They can use their fires to dry the shirts of the angels, or to bake butter-cakes! – it's all the same to me."

"Listen, my man," said Markus, kindly. "I am going to speak to you from my heart. Will you believe me?"

"That I will, Marrakus," replied the old man, seriously, holding up a withered talon.

"When I stand before the Father above – if He let me into heaven – I shall say, I will not enter in until Old Bram also is redeemed from hell – even if he be the very last one."

For a time the old fellow continued to gaze into the earnest eyes of Markus. Then his grotesque face assumed a whimsical grin, and he let himself fall back on his pillow, with a thud. There he lay, dumbfounded, staring at the ceiling – grinning, mumbling, and shaking his head. Johannes heard him whisper, "God-a-mighty! – Jesus Christ – Jesus Mary – God-a-mighty forever – " and so on and on.

Gently, yet not without some bitterness, Marjon asked:

"But, Markus, is he worthy of that? The fellow is half-witted."

Markus replied, "And Keesje, then? Have you not shed tears over him? There is more need for them here."

Thereat the two lapsed into thoughtful silence. At length Johannes, sighing deeply, exclaimed, "Oh, how many enigmas there are! The golden key seems farther away than ever."

"Yet it is nearer," said Markus. "Because you have chosen Me and Life, instead of Windekind and Death.

"The lily of eternal wisdom is a tender flower, which needs to grow slowly, and of itself.

"The Father hath sent us all forth to search for it; but no one findeth it alone.

"Eternal wisdom is like a bashful maiden: she flees from him who pursues too recklessly; but that one who turns aside, and first follows after love – him she coyly comes to find."

When Markus had said this, Marjon blurted out:

"Johannes and I are husband and wife."

Markus nodded, without appearing at all surprised.

"Will you join us in truth, Markus?" asked Johannes.

"Can I give truth, Johannes, where it is not?" asked Markus.

"That is not what I mean," said Johannes, in confusion; "but I will promise to be true to her, in the sense you mean."

"Consider your words, Johannes. A promise is a prophecy. Who can prophesy without full knowledge? This man beside me here promised not to drink. He intended not to; but what is his promise worth, without knowledge? Have you knowledge of your lasting faith? Then say, 'I desire to be true,' and show it. But make no promises; for whoever makes an idle promise is guilty; and whoever keeps a false promise is more guilty than he who breaks it."

Then said Marjon to Johannes: "I do not wish you to make any promises, but I want your loyalty. If you will not remain true without promises, I do not wish them. Can you love only because you have promised to? For such love as that I would not thank you."

"Then I will say that I feel true, so far as I know myself," said Johannes, "and I will promise that I will do everything in my power to remain true."

"That is more considerately said," added Markus.

"But where we are to set up housekeeping I cannot yet see – he a piccolo, and I only a housemaid! That doesn't bring in much. I think we shall yet fetch up in a tingel-tangel."[17 - A kind of cheap music-hall.]

"It cannot make any difference to me where we find ourselves, if only I know I am contributing something toward the good life – toward the happiness of all those fine and dear people whom I have seen. But there will be small chance of that, either as piccolo or in a tingel-tangel."

"Children," said Markus, "out of the word springs the deed, and out of the deed springs life. And every one who speaks the good word creates the deed and fosters life."

"Good," said Johannes. "We will speak the word to all who have ears, so long as we shall live; and even if in prison, we shall speak it. And I have not only a mouth, but hands also that are willing to do."

"Such hands will always find something to do – with more to follow; for the word and the deed are like the forest and the rain: the forest attracts the rain, and the rain makes the forest grow."

"But how, then," cried Johannes, "how? I see no way, no opportunity for my deeds."

"Do you remember what I told you about the field-laborers? That tells it all. And this I say to you, Johannes: constant love makes one invincible; love, a sure memory, and patience. For him who draws nigh to the Father, and who forgets not, who remains always the same, – for such a one, although he still be weak, God always opens the way through every obstruction and perplexity. He is like one who continues to urge gently, in one direction, through throngs that go – they know not whither. He will make progress where others lag behind. And think of it, children, the highest and noblest thing you can long for is still only sad and inferior compared with what you can attain through a calm and steadfastly determined love."

The bell which warned the visitors that it was four o'clock, and time to leave, had sounded some time ago, and the ward was nearly empty. The head nurse softly clapped her hands, to indicate to Johannes and Marjon that they must pass on. They were obliged to rise.

Then the door opened, and Professor Snijman came in with two assistants. The professor was a tall man, with a beardless face, and brown hair which curled behind his ears and about his carefully shaven neck. He had a hard and haughty look, with an assumption of stately condescension. With short steps he walked up to Markus' bed, followed by the two young men – his assistants – with little pointed, blonde beards, and in spotless white linen coats.

"Well, well! Come! Visitors still? Not getting on very fast, are you?" said the professor.

At the same time he studied Markus with the cool calculation of a gardener considering whether he will uproot the shrub or let it remain. Then he took Markus' paralyzed hand in his own, and moved it meditatively.

"It seems to me, gentlemen – don't you think? – that we'll have to try what the knife can do here. Don't you think so? It's a casus perditus, anyway, isn't it? And who knows?.. removal of the bone splinter – relieving the pressure on the motor-centre… Possibly splendid results, don't you think?"

The assistants nodded, and whispered to each other and to the professor. Markus said:

"Professor, will you not let me rest in peace? I am quite resigned to my condition. I know that it will be labor lost; and I am not willing to be made unconscious."

"Come, come," said the professor, half commanding, half in pretended kindness. "Not so gloomy, not so crest-fallen. We'll just see if you can't have the use of this arm again, shall we not? You need not be afraid. Everything is safe, and no pain. Would you not like to be able again to draw on your own blouse, to cut your meat, and to fill your pipe? Come, come! Keep up courage – keep up courage. Sister, to-morrow – ten o'clock – on the operating-table."

Then to Marjon and Johannes:

"Hello, young folks, it's after four. Out of the ward, quick!"

Markus put out his hand, which they both kissed, and said: "Till I see you again."

XXV

The next Wednesday, at two o'clock, when they came again with the stream of visitors, and, with the eagerness of those who thirst and know where they will find water, hastened to the ward where Markus lay, they saw, as they entered, three green screens around his bed.

They had not yet learned what that means in a hospital ward, and they stepped up to the bed as hastily as ever, expecting that Markus might now be able to speak to them with more privacy. But Sjaak, at number six, saw them coming, and, thrusting out his lower lip compassionately, he shook his red head.

"Gone!" said he.