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they looked serious and ceased talking as soon as he
appeared. When Frans came in on this particular
evening, and his hand was already on the door-knob
preparatory to going upstairs, Gerbrand, his brows
knitted from persistent pain, said to him : * What
have you on your mind that makes you so restless ?
Tell me.' Frans's pale cheeks flushed; he answered:
e Nothing, nothing at all. Except, perhaps, I need
hardly say, that I am certainly worried about Floris's
comings and goings. He's getting wilder, he's
talked about in the town and it isn't pleasant to
hear that.5 And when asked what was being said,
he made a gesture with his hand and said lightly :
e Oh, if s too absurd to bother you with it, people
think such bad things sometimes, don't worry your-
self more than is necessary.' And he went hurriedly
through the door.
Frans had heard more than he wanted to repeat,
but in the kitchen he did talk of it. In the evenings,
he left the house shortly after Floris. He followed
him, hesitating what to do, until he saw him meet
some other youths. Then he stood still as though
he were looking at something else. Twice he had
addressed him and told him gently that he ought
not to associate with these boys. Floris had laughed
in his face. And when the youths saw him they
pointed at him, shouted and called him names.
He didn't venture to speak to Floris again, but he
continued to follow him, always as far as that beer-