3 1822 01081 7906
 
 I 
 
 CALIFORNIA 
 SAN DIEGO 
 
 J
 
 3 1822 01081 7906
 
 The ^uesf 
 
 BY 
 FREDERIK VAN EEDEN 
 
 THE AUTHORIZED TRANSLATION 
 FROM THE DUTCH OF 
 
 DE KLEINE JOHANNES 
 
 BY 
 
 LAURA WARD COLE 
 
 MITCHELL KENNERLEY 
 
 NEW YORK AND LONDON 
 
 MCMXI
 
 COPYRIGHT 191 1 BY MITCHELL KENNERLEY 
 
 TBE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A.
 
 PART I
 
 THE QUEST 
 I 
 
 I WILL tell you something about Little Johannes and his quest. 
 My story is very like a fairy tale, but everything in it really 
 happened. As soon as you lose faith in it, read no farther, 
 for then it v^as not written for you. And, should you chance 
 to meet Little Johannes, you must never speak to him about 
 it, for that would grieve him and make me sorry I had told 
 you all this. 
 
 Johannes lived in an old house with a big garden. It was 
 hard to find the way about them, for in the house were many 
 dark halls, flights of stairs, chambers, and spacious garrets; 
 and in the garden everywhere were fencings and hot-houses. 
 To Johannes it was a whole world in itself. He could make 
 far journeys in it, and he gave names to everything he dis- 
 covered. For the house he chose names from the animal 
 kingdom; the caterpillar loft, because there he fed the cater- 
 pillars and watched them change their state; the chicken 
 room, because once he had found a hen there. This had not 
 come of itself, but had been put there by Johannes' mother, 
 to brood. For things in the garden, preferring those products 
 of which he was most fond, he chose names from the vegetable 
 kingdom, such as Raspberry Mountain, Gooseberry Woods, 
 and Strawberry Valley. Behind all was a little spot he named 
 Paradise; and there, of course, it was exceedingly delightful. 
 A great sheet of water lay there — a pond where white water- 
 lilies were floating, and where the reeds held long, whispered 
 conversations with the wind. On the opposite side lay the 
 dunes. Paradise itself was a little grass-plot on the near 
 shore, encircled by shrubbery. From the midst of this shot 
 up the tall nightingale-plant. There, in the thick grass, Johan- 
 nes often lay gazing through the swaying stalks to the gentle 
 hill-tops beyond the water. He used to go every warm summer 
 
 3
 
 4 THE QUEST 
 
 evening and lie looking for hours, without ever growing weary of 
 it. He thought about the still depths of the clear water before 
 him — how cozy it must be down amid the water plants, in 
 that strange half-light. And then again, he thought of the 
 far-away, gloriously-tinted clouds which hovered above the 
 dunes — wondering what might be behind them, and if it 
 would not be fine to be able to fly thither. Just as the sun 
 was sinking, the clouds piled up upon one another till they 
 seemed to form the entrance to a grotto; and from the depths 
 of that grotto glowed a soft, red light. Then Johannes would 
 feel a longing to be there. Could I only fly into it! he thought. 
 What would really be beyond ? Shall I sometime — some- 
 time be able to get there ? 
 
 But often as he made this wish, the grotto always fell apart 
 in ashen, dusky flecks, and he never was able to get nearer to 
 it. Then it would grow cold and damp by the pond, and 
 again he would seek his dark little bedroom in the old house. 
 
 He lived there not entirely alone. He had a father who 
 took good care of him, a dog named Presto, and a cat named 
 Simon. Of course, he thought most of his father, but he by 
 no means considered Presto and Simon so very much beneath 
 him, as a big man would have. He confided even more secrets 
 to Presto than to his father, and for Simon he felt a devout 
 respect. That was not strange, for Simon was a big cat with 
 glossy, black fur, and a thick tail. By merely looking at him 
 one could see that he was perfectly convinced of his own great- 
 ness and wisdom. He always remained dignified and proper, 
 even when he condescended to play with a rolling spool, or 
 while gnawing a waste herring-head behind a tree. At the 
 extreme demonstrativeness of Presto he closed his green eyes 
 disdainfully, and thought: "Well — dogs know no better!" 
 
 Can you realize now, that Johannes had a great awe of him ? 
 He held much more intimate relations with the little brown 
 dog. Presto was neither beautiful nor superior, but an un- 
 usually good and sagacious dog, never farther than two steps 
 away from Johannes, and patiently listening to whatever his
 
 THE QUEST 5 
 
 master told him. I do not need to tell you how much Johan- 
 nes thought of Presto. But he still had room in his heart for 
 other things. Does it seem strange that his little dark bed- 
 room, with the diamond window-panes, held also a large place ? 
 He liked the wall-hangings, with the big flowers in which he 
 saw faces — faces he had so often studied when he was ill, or 
 while he lay awake mornings. He liked the one small picture 
 that hung there. It represented stiff figures walking in a still 
 stiffer garden beside a smooth lake, where sky-high fountains 
 were spouting, and coquetting swans were swimming. He 
 liked best, however, the hanging clock. He always wound it 
 up carefully and seriously, and considered it a necessary 
 courtesy to watch it while it was striking. At least that was 
 the way unless he happened to be asleep. If, through neglect, 
 the clock ran down, Johannes felt very guilty and begged its 
 pardon a thousand times. You would have laughed, per- 
 haps, if you had heard him in conversation with his room. 
 But confess how often you talk to your own self. It does not 
 appear to you in the least ridiculous. Besides, Johannes was 
 convinced that his hearers understood him perfectly, and he 
 had no need of an answer. Secretly, however, he expected 
 an answer some day from the clock or the wall-paper. 
 
 Johannes certainly had schoolmates, but they were not 
 properly friends. He played with them, invented plots in 
 school, and formed robber bands with them out-of-doors; but 
 he only felt really at home when he was alone with Presto. 
 Then he never longed for the boys, but felt himself at ease 
 and secure. 
 
 His father was a wise and serious man, who often took 
 Johannes with him on long expeditions through the woods 
 and over the dunes. They talked but little — and Johannes 
 followed ten steps behind his father, greeting the flowers he 
 met. And the old trees, which must always remain in the 
 selfsame place, he stroked along their rough bark with his 
 friendly little hand. Then the good-natured giants rustled 
 their thanks.
 
 6 THE QUEST 
 
 Sometimes his father wrote letters in the sand, one by one, 
 and Johannes spelled the words which they formed. Again, 
 the father stopped and taught Johannes the name of some 
 plant or animal. 
 
 And Johannes often asked questions, for he saw and heard 
 many perplexing things. He often asked silly questions. He 
 wanted to know why the world was just as it was, why plants 
 and animals must die, and if miracles could take place. But 
 Johannes' father was a wise man, and did not tell all he knew. 
 That was well for Johannes. 
 
 Evenings, before he went to sleep, Johannes always made a 
 long prayer. His nurse had taught him. He prayed for his 
 father and for Presto. Simon, he thought, did not need to be 
 prayed for. He prayed a good while for himself, too, and 
 almost always ended with the wish that some day there might 
 be a miracle. And when he had said Amen, he peeped ex- 
 pectantly around the darkening room, at the faces on the 
 wall-hangings, which looked still stranger in the faint twilight; 
 and at the door-knob, and the clock, where the miracle ought 
 now to begin. But the clock always kept on ticking in the 
 very same way — the door-knob did not stir — it grew quite 
 dark, and Johannes fell asleep without having seen the miracle. 
 
 But some day it would happen. He knew it would.
 
 II 
 
 It was warm by the pool and utterly still. The sun, flushed 
 and tired with his daily work, seemed to rest a moment on the 
 rim of the dunes, for a breathing spell before diving under. 
 The smooth water reflected, almost perfectly, the flaming face 
 of the sun. The leaves of the beech tree which hung over the 
 pond took advantage of the stillness to look at themselves 
 attentively, in the mirror-like water. The solitary heron, 
 standing on one foot between the broad leaves of a water-lily, 
 forgot that he had come out to catch frogs, and, deep in thought, 
 was gazing along his nose. 
 
 Then came Johannes to the grass plot, to see the cloud- 
 grotto. Plump! plump! sprang the frogs from the bank. 
 The mirror was all rippled, the image of the sun was broken 
 up into broad bands, and the beech leaves rustled angrily, for 
 they had not yet viewed themselves long enough. 
 
 Fastened to the bare roots of a beech tree lay a little old 
 boat. Johannes had been strictly forbidden to get into it; 
 but, oh, how strong the temptation was this evening! The 
 clouds had already taken the semblance of a wondrous portal, 
 behind which the sun would soon sink to rest. Glittering 
 ranks of clouds ranged themselves at the sides, like a golden- 
 armored life-guard. The face of the water reflected the glow, 
 and red rays darted through the reeds like arrows. 
 
 Slowly, Johannes loosened the boat-rope from the roots. 
 He would drift there, in the midst of the splendor. Presto 
 had already sprung into the boat, and before his master in- 
 tended it the reeds moved apart, and away they both drifted 
 toward the evening sun. 
 
 Johannes lay in the bow, and gazed into the depths of the 
 light-grotto. Wings! thought he. Wings now, and away I 
 would fly! 
 
 The sun had disappeared, but the clouds were ail aglow. 
 
 7
 
 8 THE QUEST 
 
 In the east the sky was deep blue. A row of willows stood 
 along the bank, their small, pale leaves thrust motionlessly 
 out into the still air. They looked like exquisite, pale-green 
 lace against the sombre background. 
 
 Hark! What was that ? It darted and whizzed like a gust 
 of wind cutting a sharp furrow in the face of the water. It 
 came from the dunes — from the grotto in the clouds! 
 
 When Johannes looked round, a big, blue dragon-fly sat on 
 the edge of the boat. He had never seen one so large. It 
 rested there, but its wings kept quivering in a wide circle. 
 It seemed to Johannes that the tips of its wings made a lu- 
 minous ring. 
 
 That must be a fire dragon-fly, he thought — a rare thing. 
 
 The ring grew larger and larger, and the wings whirled so 
 fast that Johannes could see nothing but a haze. And little 
 by little, from out this haze, he saw the shining of two dark 
 eyes; and a light, frail form in a garment of delicate blue sat 
 in the place of the dragon-fly. A wreath of white wind- 
 flowers rested upon the fair hair, and at the shoulders were 
 gauzy wings which shimmered in a thousand hues, like a 
 soap bubble. 
 
 A thrill of happiness coursed through Johannes. This was 
 a miracle! 
 
 "Will you be my friend ?" he whispered. 
 
 That was a queer way of speaking to a stranger. But this 
 was not an every-day case, and he felt as if he had always 
 known this little blue being. 
 
 "Yes, Johannes," came the reply, and the voice sounded 
 like the rustling of the reeds in the night wind, or the pattering 
 of rain-drops on the forest leaves. 
 
 "What is your name?" asked Johannes. 
 
 "I was born in the cup of a wind-flower. Call me Winde- 
 kind."* 
 
 Windekind laughed, and looked in Johannes' eyes so merrily 
 that his heart was blissfully cheered. 
 
 "To-day is my birthday," said Windekind. "I was born 
 
 * See note, page 520.
 
 THE QUEST 9 
 
 not far away, of the first rays of the moon and the last rays of 
 the sun. They say the sun is feminine.* It is not true. The 
 sun is my father." 
 
 Johannes determined forthwith to speak of the sun as 
 mascuHne, the next morning, in school. 
 
 "Look! There comes up the round, fair face of my mother. 
 Good evening. Mother! Oh! oh! But she looks both good- 
 natured and distressed!" 
 
 He pointed to the eastern horizon. There, in the dusky 
 heavens, behind the willow lace-work which looked black 
 against the silver disk, rose the great shining moon. Her face 
 wore a pained expression. 
 
 "Come, come, Mother! Do not be troubled. Indeed, I 
 can trust him!" 
 
 The beautiful creature fluttered its gauzy wings frolic- 
 somely and touched Johannes on the cheek with the Iris in 
 its hand. 
 
 "She does not like it that I am with you. You are the first 
 one. But I trust you, Johannes. You must never, never 
 speak my name nor talk about me to a human being. Do 
 you promise?" 
 
 "Yes, Windekind," said Johannes. It was still so strange 
 to him. He felt inexpressibly happy, yet fearful of losing his 
 happiness. Was he dreaming ? Near him. Presto lay calmly 
 sleeping on the seat. The warm breath of his dog put him at 
 rest. The gnats swarmed over the face of the water, and 
 danced in the sultry air, just as usual. Everything was quite 
 clear and plain about him. It must be true! And all the 
 time he felt resting upon him the trustful glance of Windekind. 
 Then again he heard the sweet, quavering voice: 
 
 "I have often seen you here, Johannes. Do you know 
 where I was ^ Sometimes I sat on the sandy bottom of the 
 pond, among the thick water plants, and looked up at you as 
 you leaned over to drink, or to peep at the water beetles, or 
 the newts. But you never saw me. And many times I peeped 
 
 * In Dutch, the word sun is feminine.
 
 10 THEQUEST 
 
 at you from the thick reeds. I am often there. When it is 
 warm I sleep in an empty reed-bird's nest. And, oh! it is so 
 soft!" 
 
 Windekind rocked contentedly on the edge of the boat, and 
 struck at the gnats with his flower. 
 
 "I have come now to give you a little society. Your life 
 will be too dreary, otherwise. We shall be good friends, and 
 I will tell you many things — far better things than the school- 
 master palms off upon you. He knows absolutely nothing 
 about them. And when you do not believe me, I shall let you 
 see and hear for yourself. I will take you with me." 
 
 "Oh, Windekind! dear Windekind! Can you take me 
 there?" cried Johannes, pointing to the sky, where the crim- 
 son light of the setting sun had just been streaming out of the 
 golden cloud-gates. That glorious arch was already melting 
 away in dull, grey mist, yet from the farthest depths a faint, 
 rosy light was still shining. 
 
 Windekind gazed at the light which was gilding his delicate 
 features and his fair locks, and he gently shook his head. 
 
 "Not yet, Johannes, not yet. You must not ask too much 
 just now. Even I have not yet been at my father's home." 
 
 " I am always with my father," said Johannes. 
 
 "No! That is not your father. We are brothers, and my 
 father is your father, too. But the earth is your mother, and 
 for that reason we are very different. Besides, you were born 
 in a house, with human beings, and I in a wind-flower. The 
 latter is surely better. But it will be all the same to us." 
 
 Then Windekind sprang lightly upon the side of the boat, 
 which did not even stir beneath his weight, and kissed Jo- 
 hannes' forehead. 
 
 That was a strange sensation for Johannes. Everything 
 about him was changed. 
 
 He saw everything now, he thought, much better and more 
 exactly. The moon looked more friendly, too, and he saw 
 that the water-lilies had faces, and were gazing at him pen- 
 sively.
 
 THE QUEST ii 
 
 Suddenly he understood why the gnats were all the time 
 dancing so merrily around one another, back and forth and up 
 and down, till their long legs touched the water. Once he 
 had thought a good deal about it, but now he understood 
 perfectly. 
 
 He knew, also, what the reeds were whispering, and he 
 heard the trees on the bank softly complaining because 
 the sun had set. 
 
 "Oh, Windekind, I thank you! This is delightful. Yes, 
 indeed, we will have nice times together!" 
 
 "Give me your hand," said Windekind, spreading his 
 many-colored wings. Then he drew Johannes in the boat, 
 over the water, through the lily leaves which were glistening 
 in the moonlight. 
 
 Here and there, a frog was sitting on a leaf. But now he 
 did not jump into the water when Johannes came. He only 
 made a little bow, and said: "Quack." Johannes returned 
 the bow politely. Above everything, he did not wish to appear 
 conceited. 
 
 Then they came to the rushes. They were wide-spread, 
 and the boat entirely disappeared in them without having 
 touched the shore. But Johannes held fast to his guide, and 
 they scrambled through the high stalks to land. 
 
 Johannes thought he had become smaller and lighter, but 
 perhaps that was imagination. Still, he could not remember 
 ever having been able to climb up a grass stalk. 
 
 "Now be ready," said Windekind, "you are going to see 
 something funny." 
 
 They walked on through the high grass, beneath the dark 
 undergrowth which here and there let through a small, shin- 
 ing moonbeam. 
 
 "Did you ever hear the crickets evenings in the dunes? 
 It is just as if they were having a concert. Is it not ? But 
 you can never tell where the sound comes from. Now they 
 never sing for the pleasure of it; but the sound comes from 
 the cricket-school where hundreds of little cric-kets are
 
 12 THEQUEST 
 
 learning their lessons by heart. Keep still, for we are close 
 to them." 
 
 Chirp! Chirp! 
 
 The bushes became less dense, and when Windekind pushed 
 apart the grass blades with his flower, Johannes saw a brightly 
 lighted, open spot in the thin, spindling dune-grass, where the 
 crickets were busily learning their lessons. 
 
 Chirp! Chirp! 
 
 A big fat cricket was teacher, and heard the lessons. One 
 by one the pupils sprang up to him; always with one spring 
 forward, and one spring back again, to their places. The 
 one that made a bad spring was obliged to take his stand 
 upon a toadstool. 
 
 "Pay good attention, Johannes. Perhaps you too can learn 
 something," said Windekind. 
 
 Johannes understood very well what the little crickets an- 
 swered. But it was not in the least like that which the teacher 
 of his school taught. First came geography. They knew 
 nothing of the parts of the world. They were only obliged to 
 learn twenty-six dunes and two ponds. No one could know 
 anything about what lay beyond, said the teacher, and what- 
 ever might be told about it was nothing but idle fancy. 
 
 Then botany had its turn. They were all very clever at 
 that, and there v/ere many prizes distributed: selected grass 
 blades of various lengths — tender and juicy. But the 
 zoology astonished Johannes the most. There were spring- 
 ing, flying, and creeping creatures. The crickets could spring 
 and fly, and therefore stood at the head. Then followed the 
 frogs. The birds were mentioned, with everytoken of aversion, 
 as most harmful and dangerous. Finally, human beings were 
 discussed. They were great, useless, dangerous creatures 
 that stood very low, since they could neither fly nor spring; 
 but luckily they were very scarce. A wee little cricket who 
 had never yet seen a human being got three hits with a wisp 
 because he numbered human beings, by mistake, among the 
 harmless animals.
 
 THEQUEST 13 
 
 Johannes had never heard anything like this before. 
 
 Suddenly, the teacher called out: "Silence. The springing 
 exercise!" Instantly all the little crickets stopped studying 
 their lessons and began to play leap-frog. They played with 
 skill and zeal, and the fat teacher took the lead. 
 
 It was such a merry sight that Johannes clapped his hands 
 with joy. 
 
 At the sound, the entire school rushed off in a twinkling to 
 the dunes; and the little grass plot was as still as death. 
 
 "See what you have done, Johannes!" cried Windekind. 
 "You must not be so rude — one can very well see that you 
 were born among human beings." 
 
 " I am sorry. I will try my best to behave. But it was so 
 funny!" 
 
 "It is going to be funnier still," said Windekind. 
 
 They cut across the grass plot and ascended the dunes on 
 the other side. 
 
 Ah, me! It was hard work in the deep sand, but Johannes 
 caught hold of Windekind's light blue garment, and then he 
 sped quickly and lightly up the slope. Half-way to the top 
 was a rabbit-hole. 
 
 The rabbit whose home it was lay with his head and fore- 
 paws out of the entrance. The sweet-briar was still in flower, 
 and its faint, delicate fragrance mingled with that of the wild 
 thyme which was growing near. 
 
 Johannes had often seen rabbits disappear into their holes. 
 He wondered what it was like inside them, and about how 
 many could sit together there, and if it would not be very 
 stifling. So he was very glad when he heard his companion ask 
 the rabbit if they might take a peep inside. 
 
 "Willingly, so far as I am concerned," said the rabbit, 
 "but unfortunately, it just happens that I have resigned my 
 dwelling this evening for the giving of a charity-festival. So, 
 really, I am not master in my own house." 
 
 "Ah, indeed! Has there been an accident?" 
 
 "Alas, yes!" said the rabbit, sorrowfully. "A great
 
 14 THEQUEST 
 
 calamity. We shall not recover from it in years. A thousand 
 jumps from here a house for human beings has been built — 
 a big, big house — and there those creatures with dogs have 
 come to live. Fully seven members of my family have per- 
 ished through their deeds, and three times as many more have 
 been bereft of their homes. And matters are still worse with 
 the Mouse and the Mole families. And the Toads have suf- 
 ered heavily. So we have gotten up a festival for the benefit of 
 the surviving relatives. Everybody does what he can. I 
 gave my hole. One ought to have something to spare for his 
 fellow-creatures." 
 
 The compassionate rabbit sighed and, pulling a long ear 
 over his head with his right forepaw, wiped a tear out of his 
 eye. His ear was his handkerchief. 
 
 Then something rustled in the grass, and a stout, clumsy 
 figure came scrabbling up to the hole. 
 
 "Look!" said Windekind. "Here comes Father Toad — 
 hopping along." 
 
 Then followed a pun at the toad's expense. 
 
 But the toad paid no attention to the jest. His name fur- 
 nished occasion for frequent jokes. Composedly he laid 
 down by the entrance a full ear of corn, neatly folded in a dry 
 leaf, and then he climbed dexterously over the back of the 
 rabbit into the hole. 
 
 " May we go in ? " asked Johannes, who was full of curiosity. 
 "I will give something, too!" 
 
 He remembered that he still had a biscuit in his pocket — 
 a little round biscuit of Huntley and Palmer's. As he pulled 
 it out he noticed for the first time how small he had become. 
 He could scarcely lift it with both hands, and could not under- 
 stand how his pocket had contained it. 
 
 "That is very rare and expensive," said the rabbit. "It is 
 a costly gift." 
 
 The entrance was respectfully made free to them both. 
 It was dark in the cave, and Johannes let Windekind go in 
 front. Soon, they saw a pale-green light approaching. It
 
 THEQUEST 15 
 
 was a glow-worm, who obligingly offered to light the way 
 for them. 
 
 "It promises to be a very pleasant evening," said the glow- 
 worm, as he led them on. "There are a great many guests. 
 You are elves, I should say. Is it not so ? " With these words, 
 the glow-worm glanced at Johannes somewhat suspiciously. 
 
 "You may announce us as elves," replied Windekind. 
 
 "Do you know that your king is at the party?" continued 
 the glow-worm. 
 
 "Is Oberon here ? That gives me a great deal of pleasure," 
 exclaimed Windekind. "I know him personally." 
 
 "Oh!" said the glow-worm. "I did not know I had the 
 honor to . . . ." and his light nearly went out from fright. 
 "Yes, His Majesty much prefers the open air, but he is always 
 ready to perform a charitable act. This is going to be a 
 most brilliant affair!" 
 
 It was indeed the case. The main room in the rabbit cave 
 was splendidly decorated. The floor had been trodden 
 smooth, and strewn with fragrant thyme. Directly in front 
 of the entrance a bat was hanging, head downward. He 
 called out the names of the guests, and served at the same 
 time as a measure of economy for a curtain. The walls of 
 the room were tastefully adorned with dry leaves, spider-webs 
 and tiny, suspended bats. Innumerable glow-worms crept 
 in and out of these, and all around the ceiling; and they made 
 a most beautiful, ever-changing illumination. At the end of 
 the chamber was a throne, built of bits of phosphorescent 
 wood. It was a charming spectacle. 
 
 There were many guests. Johannes felt himself rather out 
 of place in the strange crowd, and drew close to Windekind. 
 He saw queer things there. A mole was chatting with a 
 field-mouse about the handsome decorations. In a corner 
 sat two fat toads, nodding their heads at each other, and 
 bewailing the continued dry weather. A frog, arm in arm 
 with a lizard, attempted a promenade. Matters went badly 
 with him, for he was timid and nervous, and every once in a
 
 i6 THEQUEST 
 
 while he jumped too far, thus doing damage to the wall decora- 
 tions. 
 
 On the throne sat Oberon, the elf-king, encircled by a little 
 retinue of elves. These looked down rather disdainfully 
 upon their surroundings. The king himself was most royal 
 in his affability, and conversed in a friendly way with various 
 guests. He had come from a journey in the Orient, and wore 
 a strange garment of brightly colored flower-petals. Flowers 
 like that do not grow here, thought Johannes. On his head 
 rested a deep blue flower-cup, which was still as fragrant as 
 though it had just been picked. In his hand was his sceptre 
 — the stamen of a lotus-flower. 
 
 All present were quietly lauding his goodness. He had 
 praised the moonlight on the dunes, and had said that the 
 glow-worms here were almost as beautiful as the fireflies of 
 the Orient. He had pleasantly overlooked the wall decora- 
 tions, and a mole, even, had noticed that he nodded approv- 
 
 "Come with me," said Windekind. "I will present you." 
 And they pressed forward to the place where the king sat. 
 
 When Oberon recognized Windekind, he greeted him joy- 
 fully, and gave him a kiss. At that the guests whispered to 
 one another, and the elves threw envious glances at the pair. 
 The two plump toads in the corner mumbled together some- 
 thing about "fawning and flattering," and "not lasting long," 
 and then nodded very significantly to each other. 
 
 Windekind talked with Oberon for a long time in a strange 
 language, and then beckoned to Johannes to come closer. 
 
 "Give me your hand, Johannes," said the king. "Winde- 
 kind's friends are mine also. Whenever I can I will help you, 
 and I will give you a token of our alliance." 
 
 Oberon released from the chain about his neck a little gold 
 key, and gave it to Johannes who took it respectfully and 
 held it shut close in his hand. 
 
 "That little key may be your fortune," said the king. "It 
 fits a golden chest which contains a precious treasure. Who
 
 THE QUEST 17 
 
 holds that chest I cannot say, but you must search for it zeal- 
 ously. If } ou remain good friends with me and with Winde- 
 kind — steadfast and true — you will surely succeed." With 
 that, the elf-king inclined his beautiful head, cordially, while 
 Johannes, overflowing with happiness, expressed his thanks. 
 
 At this moment, three frogs, who were sitting together upon 
 a little mound of damp moss, began to sing the introduction 
 to a slow waltz, and partners were taken for the dance. Those 
 who did not dance were lined along the side walls by the 
 master of ceremonies — a lively, fussy little lizard — to the 
 great vexation of the two toads who complained that they 
 could not see. Then the dancing began. 
 
 And it was so comical! Every one danced in his own way, 
 and fancied, of course, that he danced better than any one 
 else. The mice and frogs sprang high up on their hind feet, 
 and an old rat whirled round so wildly that all the dancers 
 retreated before him. A fat tree-slug took a turn with a mole, 
 but soon gave it up, under pretense that she was taken with a 
 stitch in the side. The real reason was that she could not 
 dance very well. 
 
 However, everything moved on seriously and ceremoniously. 
 It was a matter of conscience with them, and all looked 
 anxiously toward the king to find a sign of approval upon 
 his countenance. But the king was afraid of causing dis- 
 content, and looked very sedate. His followers considered 
 ,it beneath them to take part in the dancing. 
 
 Johannes had contained himself well, through all this 
 seriousness, but when he saw a tiny toad whirling around with 
 a tall lizard, who now and then lifted the unhappy toad high 
 up off the floor and described a half circle with her in the air, 
 he burst out into a merry laugh. 
 
 Then there was consternation. The music stopped and 
 the king looked round with a troubled air. The master of 
 ceremonies flew in full speed up to the laugher, and urgently 
 besought him to conduct himself with more decorum. 
 
 "Dancing is a serious matter," said he, "and nothing at all
 
 i8 THEOUEST 
 
 to be laughed at. This is a dignified company, who are 
 dancing not merely for the fun of it. Every one was doing 
 his best, and no one wished to be laughed at. That was very 
 rude. More than that, this is a mourning feast — a sorrowful 
 occasion. One should conduct himself respectably here, and 
 not behave as though he were among human beings." 
 
 Johannes was frightened at that. Moreover, he saw hos- 
 tile looks. His familiarity with the king had made him many 
 enemies. Windekind led him to one side. 
 
 "We would better go away," he whispered. "You have 
 made a mess of it again. That is the way when one is brought 
 up among human beings." 
 
 Hastily, they slipped out under the bat-wing portiere, and 
 entered the dim passage. The polite glow-worm was waiting 
 for them. 
 
 "Have you had a good time?" he asked. "Did King 
 Oberon speak with you?" 
 
 "Oh, yes. It was a jolly festival," said Johannes. "Do 
 you have to stay here all the time, in this dark passage ?" 
 
 "That is my own choice," said the glow-worm, in a bitter, 
 mournful voice. "I care no more for vanities." 
 
 "Come," said Windekind, "you do not mean that!" 
 
 "It is just as I say. Formerly — formerly there was a time 
 when I, too, went to feasts, and danced, and kept up with 
 such frivolities; but now I am purified through suffering, 
 now. . . ." And he became so agitated that his light went 
 out again. Fortunately they were near the outlet, and the 
 rabbit, hearing them coming, moved a little to one side, so 
 that the moonlight shone in. 
 
 As soon as they were outside by the rabbit, Johannes said: 
 "Will you not tell us your history, Glow-worm ?" 
 
 "Alas!" sighed the glow-worm, "it is a sad and simple 
 story. It will not amuse you." 
 
 "Tell us! Tell us, all the same!" they cried. 
 
 "Well, then, you know that we glow-worms are very pe- 
 culiar beings. Yes, I believe no one would contradict
 
 THEQUEST 19 
 
 that we glow-worms are the most highly gifted of all who 
 ive. 
 
 "Why? I do not know that," said the rabbit. 
 
 At this, the glow-worm asked disdainfully, "Can you give 
 light?" 
 
 "No, indeed, I cannot," the rabbit was obliged to confess. 
 
 "Now we give light — all of us. And we can make it shine 
 or can extinguish it. Light is the best gift of Nature, and to 
 make light is the highest achievement of any living being. 
 Ought any one then to contest our precedence ? Moreover, 
 we little fellows have wings, and can fly for miles." 
 
 "I cannot do that, either," humbly admitted the rabbit. 
 
 "Through the divine gift of light which we have," con- 
 tinued the glow-worm, "other creatures stand in awe of us, 
 and no bird will attack us. Only one animal — the human 
 being — the basest of all, chases us, and carries us off. He is 
 the most detestable monster in creation!" 
 
 At this sally Johannes looked at Windekind as though he 
 did not understand. But Windekind smiled, and motioned 
 to him to be silent. 
 
 "Once, I flew gaily around among the shrubs, like a bright 
 will-o'-the-wisp. In a moist, lonely meadow on the bank of a 
 ditch there lived one whose existence was inseparably linked 
 with my own happiness. She sparkled beautifully in her 
 light emerald-green as she crept about in the grass, and my 
 young heart was enraptured. I circled about her, and did 
 my best, by making my light play, to attract her attention. 
 Gratefully, I saw that she had perceived me, and demurely 
 extinguished her own light. Trembling with emotion, I was 
 on the point of folding my wings and sinking down in rapture 
 beside my radiant loved one, when the air was filled with an 
 awful noise. Dark figures approached. They were human 
 beings. In terror, I took flight. They chased me, and 
 struck at me with big black things. But my wings went 
 faster than their clumsy legs." 
 
 "When I returned — "
 
 20 THEQUEST 
 
 Here the narrator's voice failed him. After an instant of 
 deep emotion, during which the three Hsteners maintained a 
 respectful silence, he continued: 
 
 "You may already have surmised it. My tender bride — 
 the brightest, most gl owning of all — she had disappeared; 
 kidnapped by cruel human beings. The still, dewy grass- 
 plot was trampled, and her favorite place by the ditch was 
 dark and deserted. I was alone in the world." 
 
 Here the impressionable rabbit once again pulled down an 
 ear, and wiped a tear from his eye. 
 
 "Since that time I have been a different creature. I have 
 an aversion for all idle pleasures. I think only of her whom 
 I have lost, and of the time when I shall see her again." 
 
 "Really! Do you still hope to?" said the rabbit, rejoiced. 
 
 "I more than hope — I am certain. In heaven I shall see 
 my beloved again." 
 
 "But — " the rabbit objected. 
 
 "Bunnie," said the glow-worm, gravely, "I can understand 
 that one who was obliged to grope about in the dark might 
 doubt, but when one can see, with his own eyes! That puz- 
 zles me. There!" said the glow-worm, gazing reverently up 
 at the star-dotted skies; "there I behold them — all my fore- 
 fathers, all my friends, and her, too, more gloriously radiant 
 than when here upon earth. Ah, when shall I be able to rise 
 up out of this lower life, and fly to her who beckons me so 
 winsomely ? When, ah, when?" 
 
 With a sigh, the glow-worm turned away from his listeners 
 and crept back again into the dark passage. 
 
 "Poor creature!" said the rabbit. "I hope he is right." 
 
 "I hope so too," added Johannes. 
 
 "I have my doubts," said Windekind, "but it was very 
 touching." 
 
 "Dear Windekind," began Johannes, "I am very tired 
 and sleepy." 
 
 "Then come close to me, and I will cover you with my 
 mantle."
 
 THE GUEST 21 
 
 Windekind took oft' his little blue mantle and spread it over 
 Johannes and himself. 
 
 So they lay down on the gentle slope, in the fragrant moss, 
 with their arms about each other's neck. 
 
 "Your heads lie rather low," said the rabbit. "Will you 
 rest them against me?" 
 
 They did so. 
 
 "Good-night, Mother!" said Windekind to the moon. 
 
 Then Johannes shut the little gold key tight in his hand, 
 pressed his head against the downy coat of the good rabbit, 
 and fell fast asleep.
 
 Ill 
 
 Where is he, Presto ? — Where is he ? What a fright to wake 
 up in the boat, among the reeds, all alone, the master gone 
 and not a trace of him! It is something to be alarmed about. 
 
 And how long you have been running, barking nervously, 
 trying to find him, poor Presto! How could you sleep so 
 soundly and not notice the little master get out of the boat ? 
 Otherwise, you would have wakened as soon as he made the 
 least move. 
 
 You could scarcely find the place where he landed, and here 
 in the downs you are all confused. That nervous sniffing has 
 not helped a bit. Oh, despair! The master gone — not a 
 sign of him. Find him. Presto, find him! 
 
 See! straight before you on the hillside. Is not that a little 
 form lying there? Look! look! 
 
 For an instant the little dog stood motionless, straining his 
 gaze out into the distance. Then suddenly he stretched out 
 his head, and raced — flew with all the might of his four 
 little paws toward that dark spot on the hillside. 
 
 And when it proved to be the grievously wanted little master, 
 he could not find a way to fully express his joy and thankful- 
 ness. He wagged his tail, his entire little body quivering with 
 joy — he jumped, yelped, barked, and then pushed his little 
 cold nose against the face of his long-sought friend, and licked 
 and sniffed all over it. 
 
 "Cuddle down, Presto, in your basket," said Johannes, 
 only half awake. 
 
 How stupid of the master! There was no basket there, as 
 any one could see. 
 
 Very, very slowly the day began to break in the mind of the 
 little sleeper. 
 
 Presto's sniffings he was used to — every morning. But 
 dream-figures of elves and moonshine still lingered in his soul 
 
 22
 
 THE QUEST 23 
 
 as the morning mists cling to the Landscape. He feared that 
 the chill breath of the dawn might chase them away. "Eyes 
 fast shut," thought he, "or I shall see the clock and the wall- 
 paper, just as ever." 
 
 But he was not lying right. He felt there was no covering 
 over him. Slowly and cautiously he opened his eyelids a very 
 little way. 
 
 Bright light. Blue sky. Clouds. 
 
 Then Johannes opened his eyes wide and said: "Is it really 
 true ?" 
 
 Yes, he lay in the middle of the dunes. The cheerful sun- 
 shine warmed him, he breathed the fresh morning air, and in 
 the distance a fine mist skirted the woods. He saw only the 
 tall beech tree beside the pond, and the roof of his house 
 rising above the foliage. Bees and beetles hummed about 
 him; above him sang the ascending skylark; from far away 
 came the sound of barking dogs, and the rumble of the distant 
 town. It was all as plain as day. 
 
 But what had he dreamed and what not ^ Where was 
 Windekind ? And where was the rabbit .? 
 
 He could see neither of them. Only Presto, who sat up 
 against him as close as possible, watching him expectantly. 
 
 "Could I have been sleep-walking?" murmured Johannes, 
 softly. 
 
 Beside him was a rabbit-hole. But there were a great many 
 such in the dunes. He sat up straight, so as to give it a good 
 look. What was it he felt in his tightly shut hand ? 
 
 A thrill ran through him from the crown of his head to his 
 feet as he opened his hand. There lay a bright little gold 
 key. 
 
 For a time he sat speechless. 
 
 " Presto," said he then, while the tears sprang to his eyes, 
 "Presto, then it is true!" 
 
 Presto sprang up and tried, by barking, to make it clear to 
 his master that he was hungry and wanted to go home. 
 
 To the house ? Johannes had not thought of that, and
 
 24 THEOUEST 
 
 cared little to return. But soon he heard different voices calling 
 his name. Then he began to realize that his behavior would be 
 considered neither kind nor courteous; and that, for a long time 
 to come, there would be no friendly words in store for him. 
 
 For an instant, at the first trouble, his tears of joy were 
 very nearly turned into those of fear and regret. But when 
 he thought about Windekind, who now was his friend — his 
 friend and confidant — of the elf-king's gift, and of the glo- 
 rious, indisputable truth of all that had occurred, he took his 
 way home, calm and prepared for anything. 
 
 But the meeting was more difficult than he expected. He 
 had not fully anticipated the fear and distress of the household 
 over his absence. He was urged to promise solemnly that he 
 never again would be so naughty and imprudent. 
 
 "I cannot do so," said he, resolutely. They were surprised 
 at that. He was interrogated, coaxed, threatened; but he 
 thought of Windekind and remained stubborn. What could 
 it matter if only he held Windekind's friendship — and what 
 would he not be willing to suffer for Windekind's sake! He 
 pressed the little key close to his breast, and shut his lips to- 
 gether, while he answered every question with a shrug of his 
 shoulders. "I cannot promise," said he, again. 
 
 But his father said: "It is a serious matter with him — we 
 will let him be, now. Something unusual must have happened. 
 Sometime, he will tell us about it." 
 
 Johannes smiled, silently ate his bread and butter, and then 
 slipped away to his little bedroom. There, he snipped off a 
 bit of the curtain cord, strung his precious key upon it, and 
 hung it around his neck, on his bare breast. Then, com- 
 forted, he went to school. 
 
 It went very badly that day at school. He knew none of his 
 lessons, and paid absolutely no attention. His thoughts flew 
 continually to the pond, and to the marvelous happenings of 
 the evening before. He could scarcely believe that a friend 
 of the elf-king could again be obliged to figure sums, and con- 
 jugate verbs.
 
 THEQUEST 25 
 
 But it had all truly been, and not one of those around him 
 knew anything about it. No one could believe or understand 
 — not even the master — no matter how fierce he looked, nor 
 how scornfully he called Johannes a lazy dog. He endured 
 the angry comments with resignation and performed the tasks 
 which his absent-mindedness brought upon him. 
 
 "They have not the least idea of it. They may rail at me 
 as much as they please. I shall remain Windekind's friend, 
 and Windekind is worth more to me than all of them put to- 
 gether; yes, master and all." 
 
 That was not respectful of Johannes. But after all the 
 hard things he had heard about them the evening before, his 
 esteem for his fellow-creatures had not been increased. 
 
 More than that, he was not sensible enough to put his wis- 
 dom to the best use; or, rather, to keep silent. 
 
 When his master stated that human beings only were gifted 
 by God with reasoning powers, and were placed as rulers over 
 all the other animals, he began to laugh. That cost him a 
 bad mark, and a severe rebuke. And when his seat-mate 
 read aloud from his exercise-book the following sentence: 
 "The sun is very old — she is older than my cross old aunt," 
 Johannes instantly cried out, "He is older!" 
 
 Everybody laughed at him, and the master, astonished at 
 such amazing stupidity, as he called it, made Johannes remain 
 after school to write out this sentence a hundred times: "The 
 age of my aunt is very great, the age of the sun is greater; but 
 the greatest thing of all is my amazing stupidity." 
 
 His schoolmates had all disappeared, and Johannes sat 
 alone writing in the great school-room. The sun shone gaily 
 in, lighting up a thousand motes on the way, and forming on 
 the white-washed walls great splashes of light which, with the 
 passing hours, crept slowly forward. The teacher had gone 
 away, and shut the door behind him with a bang. Johannes 
 was already on the fifty-second "age of my aunt," when a 
 nimble little mouse, with silky ears, and little black beads of 
 eyes, came out of the farthest corner of the room and ran
 
 26 THEQUEST 
 
 without a sound along by the wall. Johannes kept as still as 
 death, not to frighten away the pretty creature. It was not 
 afraid, and came up close to where he was sitting. Then, 
 peering round a moment with its bright keen little eyes, it 
 sprang lightly up — one jump to the bench, the second to the 
 desk on which Johannes was writing. 
 
 "Hey!" said he, half to himself, "but you are a plucky little 
 mouse!" 
 
 "I do not know whom I should be afraid of," said a mite of 
 a voice; and the mouse showed his little teeth as if he were 
 laughing. 
 
 Johannes had already become used to many wonderful 
 things, but this made him open his eyes wide. In the middle 
 of the day, and in school! It was past all belief. 
 
 "You need not be afraid of me," said he, softly — for fear 
 of startling the mouse. "Have you come from Windekind ?" 
 
 "I came just to say to you that the teacher is quite right, 
 and that you roundly deserved your punishment." 
 
 "But Windekind said that the sun was our father." 
 
 "Yes, but it was not necessary to let anybody else know it. 
 What have human beings to do with it ? You must never 
 speak of such delicate matters to them — they are too coarse. 
 A human being is an astonishingly cruel and clumsy creature, 
 Vv'ho would prefer to seize and trample to death whatever came 
 within his reach. We mice have had experience of that." 
 
 " But, Mousie, why do you stay in this neighborhood .? 
 Why do you not go far away — to the woods ?" 
 
 "Alas! we cannot do that now. We are too much accus- 
 tomed to town food. Provided one is prudent and always 
 takes care to avoid their traps and their heavy feet, it becomes 
 possible to endure human beings. Fortunately, we still 
 retain our nimbleness. The worst of it is that human beings 
 help out their own clumsiness by covenanting with the cat. 
 That is a great calamity, but in the woods there are owls and 
 hawks, and we should all certainly perish there. Now, 
 Johannes, remember my advice. There comes the teacher!" 
 
 " Mousie, Mousie! Do not go away! Ask Windekind what
 
 THE GUEST 27 
 
 I must do with my key, I have hung it around my neck, on 
 my bare breast. But Saturday I have to take a bath, and I 
 am so afraid somebody will see it. Tell mc, Mousie dear, 
 where I can safely hide it." 
 
 "In the ground — always in the ground. Everything is 
 safest there. Shall I take, and keep it?" 
 
 "No, not here, at school!" 
 
 "Bury it then, out in the dunes. I will tell my cousin, the 
 field-mouse, that he must keep watch of it." 
 
 "Thank you, Mousie." 
 
 Tramp! tramp! The master was coming. In the time it 
 took Johannes to dip his pen, the mouse had disappeared. 
 The master himself, who was impatient to go home, excused 
 Johannes from the forty-eight remaining lines. 
 
 For two long days Johannes lived in constant fear. He 
 was closely watched, and no opportunity was allowed him for 
 escaping to the dunes. Friday came, and he was still carrying 
 around that precious key. The following evening he must 
 take his weekly bath; the key would be discovered and taken 
 away from him. He grew stiff with fear at the thought of it. 
 He dared not hide it in the house — nor in the garden — no 
 place seemed to him safe enough. 
 
 It was Friday afternoon and the twilight began to fall. 
 Johannes sat before his bedroom window, looking wistfully 
 out over the green shrubs of the garden to the distant dunes. 
 
 "Windekind,Windekind,helpme!" he whispered, anxiously. 
 
 There was a gentle rustling of wings near him, then came 
 the fragrance of lilies-of-the-valley, and suddenly he heard 
 the sweet, familiar voice. 
 
 Windekind sat near him on the window-seat, making the 
 little lily-bells swing on their slender stalk. 
 
 "At last! Have you come? I have longed for you so!" 
 said Johannes. 
 
 "Come with me, Johannes; we will go and bury your key." 
 
 "I cannot," said Johannes, with a sigh. 
 
 But Windekind took him by the hand, and, light as the
 
 28 THEQUEST 
 
 feathery seed of a dandelion, he was drifting away through 
 the still evening air. 
 
 "Windekind," said Johannes as they went, "I think so 
 much of you! I believe I would willingly give up every human 
 being for you. Presto, even." 
 
 "And Simon?" said Windekind. 
 
 "Oh, it cannot make much difference to Simon whether I 
 like him or not. He thinks such things childish, I believe. 
 Simon cares only for the fishwoman; and not even for her, save 
 when he is hungry. Do you believe, Windekind, that Simon 
 is an ordinary cat ?" 
 
 "No! He has been a human being." 
 
 Buz-z-z-z! Just then a big May-bug flew against Johannes. 
 
 "Cannot you look out for yourself better than that.^" 
 grumbled the May-bug. "H'm! You elfin baggage! You 
 fly as if you owned all the air there was. You have learned 
 that from the do-nothings who only just fly round and round 
 for their own pleasure. One who always does his duty, like 
 me — who always seeks food, and eats as hard as he can, is 
 put out by such actions." And away he flew, buzzing loudly. 
 
 "Is he vexed because we are not eating anything .''" asked 
 Johannes. 
 
 "Yes, that is May-bug fashion. Among the May-bugs it 
 is considered the highest duty to eat a great deal. Shall I tell 
 you the story of a young May-bug ?" 
 
 "Yes, do, Windekind." 
 
 "He was a fine, young May-bug who had only just crept out 
 of the sod. What a surprise it was ! For four long years he 
 had been under the dark ground, waiting for the first warm 
 evening. When he got his head up out of the clods and saw 
 all that foliage, and the waving grass, and the singing birds, 
 he was greatly perplexed. He did not know what to do. He 
 touched the near-by grass blades all over with his feelers, 
 thrusting them out in fan shape. From this he perceived, 
 Johannes, that he was a male. He was very handsome in his 
 way — with shining black legs, a plump, powdered after-part.
 
 THEQUEST 29 
 
 and a breastplate that gleamed like a mirror. Happily, 
 he soon discovered, not far away, another May-bug — not 
 quite so handsome, but who had flown out a full day earlier 
 and thus was of age. Quite modestly, because he was still so 
 young, he hailed this other one. 
 
 "'What do you want, little friend?' said the second one 
 condescendingly, observing that it was a novice : ' Do you 
 want to inquire the way?' 
 
 "*No, but you see,' said the younger, politely, 'I do not 
 know what I ought to be doing here. What does one do when 
 he is a May-bug?' 
 
 "'Indeed,' said the other, 'do you not know that? Well, 
 that is excusable. Once / did not know. Listen, and I will 
 tell you. The chief concern of a May-bug's life is to eat. 
 Not far from this is a delicious linden hedge that was put 
 there for us to eat from as busily as possible.' 
 
 "'Who planted the linden hedge there?' asked the young 
 beetle. 
 
 '"Well, a great creature who means well by us. Every 
 morning he comes along the hedge, picks out those that have 
 eaten the most, and takes them with him to a splendid house 
 where a bright light shines, and where all the May-bugs are 
 very happy together. But those who keep flying about the 
 whole night instead of eating are caught by the bat.' 
 
 '"Who is that?' asked the novice. 
 
 "*A fearful monster with sharp teeth, that all of a sudden 
 comes flying after us, and crunches us up with a horrible 
 crack.' As the beetle said this, they heard above them a 
 shrill squeaking which pierced through to the marrow. 'Hey! 
 There he is!' exclaimed the older one. 'Look out for him, 
 my young friend. Be thankful that I have warned you in 
 good time. You have a long night before you — make the 
 best of it. The less you eat the greater the chance of your 
 being devoured by the bat. Only those who choose a serious 
 calling in life can enter the great house with the bright lisht. 
 Bear that in mind! A serious calling;!'
 
 30 THEQUEST 
 
 "Then the beetle, who was a whole day the older, scrabbled 
 away among the blades of grass, leaving the other behind, 
 greatly impressed. Do you understand what a calling is, 
 Johannes ? No ? Well, neither did the young beetle know. 
 It had something to do with eating, he knew, but how was he 
 to get to the linden hedge ? 
 
 "Close beside him stood a slim, strong grass-stem swaying 
 gently in the evening wind. He grasped it, and hugged it 
 tightly with his six little crooked feet. It seemed as tall as a 
 giant viewed from below, and fearfully steep. But the May- 
 bug was determined to reach the very tip of it. 
 
 "'This is a calling,' he thought, and he began to climb, 
 pluckily. It was slow work — he often slipped back; but still 
 he made progress, and at last, when he had climbed to the 
 tip-top and was swinging and swaying there, he felt content 
 and happy. What a view! It seemed to him as if he over- 
 looked the world. How blissful it was to be surrounded, on 
 all sides, by the air! He breathed it in eagerly. How mar- 
 velously it cheered him up! He would go still higher! 
 
 "In ecstasy he lifted up his shields, and made his filmy wings 
 quiver. Higher he would go! Higher! Again he fluttered 
 his wings — his feet let loose the grass-stem, and — oh, joy! — 
 He was flying, free and clear, in the still, warm evening air!" 
 
 "And then?" asked Johannes. 
 
 "The continuation is not cheerful. I will tell it you a 
 little later." 
 
 They had flown away over the pond. A pair of belated 
 white butterflies fluttered along with them. 
 
 "Where are you going, elves ?" they asked. 
 
 "To the big wild-rose that blossoms on yonder hill." 
 
 "We will go, too! We will go, too!" 
 
 In the distance, the rose-bush with its many pale-yellow 
 satiny flowers was already visible. The buds were red, and 
 the open roses showed little stripes of the same color, in token 
 of the time when they still were buds. 
 
 In solitary calm, this sweet wild-rose bloomed, and filled
 
 THEQUEST 31 
 
 the region with its marvelous fragrance. So delicious is this 
 that the dune-elves live upon it alone. 
 
 The butterflies fluttered up to it, and kissed flower after 
 flower. 
 
 "We come to entrust a treasure to you," said Windekind. 
 "Will you take care of it for us ?" 
 
 "Why not.'' why not?" whispered the wild-rose. "Watch- 
 ing does not tire me, and I do not think to go away from here, 
 if no one carries me off. And I have sharp thorns." 
 
 Then came the field-mouse — the cousin of the mouse at the 
 school. He dug a passage under the roots of the rose-bush, 
 and pulled in the little key. 
 
 "If you want it back again, you must call on me. And 
 then the rose need not be harmed." 
 
 The rose interlocked its thorny twigs close over the entrance, 
 and took a solemn oath to guard the trust. The butterflies 
 were witnesses. 
 
 The next morning, Johannes woke up in his own little bed, 
 with Presto, the clock, and the wall-hangings. The cord 
 around his neck, and the little key upon it, had disappeared.
 
 IV 
 
 "Oh, boys, boys! How dreadfully tedious it is in summer!" 
 sighed one of the three big stoves which stood together, fretting, 
 in a dark corner of the garret in the old house, "For weeks I 
 have not seen a living soul nor heard a sensible word. And 
 that emptiness within. It is horrible!" 
 
 "I am full of spider-webs," said the other. "In winter 
 that would not happen." 
 
 "And I am so dusty that I shall be shamed to death next 
 winter when the black man appears, as Van Alphen says." 
 This bit of learning the third stove had gotten, of course, from 
 Johannes, as he sat before the hearth winters, reciting verses. 
 
 "You must not speak so disrespectfully of the Smith," said 
 the first stove — which was the eldest. "It pains me." 
 
 And a number of shovels and tongs also, which lay here and 
 there on the floor, wrapped in paper to keep them from rusting, 
 expressed freely their indignation at the frivolous remark. 
 
 Suddenly, they all stopped talking; for the trap-door was 
 lifted, a ray of light darted to the far corner, exposing the 
 entire dusty company, to their surprise and confusion. 
 
 It was Johannes whose coming had disturbed their talk. 
 He had always enjoyed a visit to the garret; and now, after all 
 the recent happenings, he often went there to find quiet and 
 seclusion. There, too, closed with a shutter was a window, 
 which looked out over the hillside. It was a keen delight to 
 open that shutter suddenly, and after the mysterious gloom of 
 the garret, to see before him all at once the wide-spread, clearly 
 lighted landscape, framed by the gently undulating lines of 
 the hills. 
 
 Three weeks had passed away since that Friday evening, and 
 Johannes had not seen nor heard anything of his friend. His 
 little key was now gone, and there was nothing to prove to him 
 that he had not been dreaming. Often, he could not reason 
 
 3^
 
 THEQUEST 33 
 
 away the fear that all had been only imagination. He kept 
 his own counsel, and his father remarked with anxiety that 
 Johannes, since that night in the dunes, had certainly been 
 ill. Johannes, however, was only longing for Windekind. 
 
 "Ought not he to care as much for me as I do for him .?" 
 he mused, while he leaned against the garret window and 
 gazed out over the verdant, flowery garden. "And why does 
 he not come oftener, and stay longer? If/ could! . . . But 
 perhaps he has other friends, and cares more for them than 
 for me ? I have no other friend — not one. I care only for 
 him — so much, oh, so much!" 
 
 Then he saw defined against the deep blue sky a flock of six 
 white doves which wheeled with flapping wings above the 
 house. It seemed as if one thought impelled them, so swiftly 
 and simultaneously, again and again, they altered their direc- 
 tion, as if to enjoy to the full the sea of sunlight in which they 
 were circling. 
 
 All at once they flew toward Johannes' little attic-window, 
 and, with much fluttering and flapping of wings, alighted on 
 the gutter. There they cooed, and bustled back and forth, 
 with little, mincing steps. One of them had a little red 
 feather in his wing. He tugged and pulled at it until he held 
 it in his beak. Then he flew up to Johannes and gave it to 
 him. 
 
 Johannes had scarcely taken it when he felt that he had 
 become as light and fleet as one of the doves. He stretched 
 himself out, up flew the flock of doves, and Johannes soared 
 in their midst, through the free, open air and the clear sun- 
 shine. Nothing was around him but the pure blue, and the 
 bright gleaming of the white dove-wings. 
 
 They flew over the garden toward the woods, whose tree- 
 tops were waving in the distance like the swell of a green sea. 
 Johannes looked down below, and saw his father sitting at the 
 open window of the living-room. Simon sat on the window- 
 sill, his forepaws folded, basking in the sunshine. "Can 
 they see me f " he thought; but he did not dare call to them.
 
 34 THEQUEST 
 
 Presto was tearing through the garden paths, sniffing about 
 every shrub, behind every wall, and scratching against the 
 door of every hot-house or out-building, trying to find his 
 master. 
 
 "Presto! Presto!" cried Johannes, The dog looked up, 
 and began to wag his tail and whimper, plaintively. 
 
 "I am coming back, Presto. Watch!" cried Johannes, 
 but he was too far away. 
 
 They swept over the woods, and the crows flew croaking 
 out of the high tree-tops where their nests were. It was mid- 
 summer, and the odor of the blossoming lindens streamed up 
 from the green woods below them. 
 
 In an empty nest at the top of a tall linden tree sat Winde- 
 kind with the wreath of wind-flowers upon his head. He 
 nodded to Johannes. 
 
 "Is that you? That is good," said he. "I sent for you. 
 Now we can stay together a long while — if you would like to." 
 
 "Indeed, I would like to," said Johannes. 
 
 Then he thanked the kind doves who had brought him 
 thither, and dropped down with Windekind into the woods. 
 
 It was cool and shady there. The golden thrush was 
 fluting his strain — nearly always the very same, but yet a 
 little different. 
 
 "Poor bird!" said Windekind. "He was once a bird-of- 
 paradise. That you can still see by his strange, yellow feathers; 
 but he was given another covering and expelled from Paradise. 
 There is a word which can bring back again his former glorious 
 covering, and restore him to Paradise, but he has forgotten it. 
 Day after day he tries to find that word. He sings something 
 like it, but it is not the right word." 
 
 Countless flies were glistening like floating crystals in the 
 sunbeams that fell through the dark foliage. Listening 
 acutely, one could hear their buzzing like a great, monotonous 
 concert, filling the entire forest. It was as if the sunbeams 
 sang. 
 
 Thick, dark-green moss covered the ground, and Johannes
 
 THEQUEST 35 
 
 had become so small again that it appeared to him like a new- 
 grown woods at the bottom of the great forest. What elegant 
 little stems and how closely they grew! It was difficult to pass 
 between them, and the moss-woods seemed dreadfully large. 
 
 Then they came upon an ant-path. Hundreds of ants ran 
 busily to and fro, some carrying bits of wood, little leaves, or 
 blades of grass in their jaws. There was such a tumult that it 
 almost made Johannes dizzy. They were all so busy it was a 
 long time before one of the ants would stop to speak with them. 
 At last they found an old ant who had been stationed to keep 
 watch over the small plant-lice from which the ants draw their 
 honey-dew. Since his small herd was quiet he could devote a 
 little time to the strangers, and show them the great nest. It 
 was situated at the foot of an old tree-trunk, was very large, 
 and had hundreds of entrances and little chambers. The 
 plant-louse herder gave explanations, and led the visitors 
 around everywhere, till they came to the cells of the young, 
 where the larvae crept out of their white cocoons. Johannes 
 was amazed and delighted. 
 
 The old ant said that they were living under great stress on 
 account of the military campaign which was about to be 
 executed. They were going, with a huge force, to attack 
 another ant colony not far away; to destroy the nest, and to 
 steal or kill the larvae. To accomplish this, they would need 
 all the help possible, and thus they must first settle the most 
 urgent affairs. 
 
 "What is the reason for this military expedition?" asked 
 Johannes. "It does not seem nice." 
 
 "Indeed," said the herder, "it is a very fine and praise- 
 worthy enterprise! You must know that it is the Fighting- 
 Ants we are going to attack. We are going to extirpate their 
 species, and that is a very good deed." 
 
 "Are not you Fighting-Ants, then ?" 
 
 "Certainly not! What makes you think so? We are 
 Peace-Ants." 
 
 "Then what does that mean ?"
 
 36 THEOUEST 
 
 " Do you not know ? I will explain. Once, all the ants 
 were continually fighting — not a day passed without great 
 slaughter. Then there came a good, wise ant who thought it 
 would save a great deal of trouble if all the ants would agree 
 to fight no more. 
 
 "When he said that, they all found it very strange; and what 
 did they do but begin to bite him into pieces. Later, came 
 still other ants who were of the very same opinion. These 
 also were bitten into mince-meat. But so many of them kept 
 coming that the biting-up became too much work for the 
 others. 
 
 "Then they named themselves Peace-Ants, and all agreed 
 that the first Peace-Ant was right. Whoever dissented was, 
 in his turn, bitten up. Thus, nearly all the ants nowadays 
 have become Peace-Ants, and the remnants of the first Peace- 
 Ant have been preserved with great care and respect. We 
 have the head — the authentic head. We have laid waste 
 twelve other colonies, and have murdered the ants who pre- 
 tended to have the genuine head. Now, there are only four 
 such colonies left. They call themselves Peace-Ants, but 
 they are really Fighting-Ants; because, you see, we have the 
 true head, and the Peace-Ant had but one head. We are 
 going, one of these days, to stamp out the thirteenth colony. 
 You see now, that this is a good work." 
 
 "Yes, indeed," said Johannes, "it is very . . . remarkable." 
 
 Peally he had become a little afraid, and felt more com- 
 fortable when they had taken their leave of the obliging herder 
 and, far away from the ant colony, were resting awhile on a 
 swaying grass-blade, in the shadow of a graceful fern-leaf. 
 
 "Whoo!" sighed Johannes, "that was a stupid, blood- 
 thirsty set." 
 
 Windekind laughed, and swung up and down on his grass- 
 blade. 
 
 "Oh," said he, "you must not call them stupid. Human 
 beings go to the ants to learn wisdom from them." 
 
 Thus Windekind showed Johannes all the wonders of the
 
 THEQUEST 37 
 
 woods. They flew together to the birds in the tree-tops, and 
 in the close hedges; went down into the clever little dwellings 
 of the moles, and saw the bees' nest in the old tree-trunk. 
 
 Finally, they came to an open place surrounded with under- 
 growth. The honeysuckle grew there in great abundance. 
 It twined its wanton tendrils over all the shrubs, and its fra- 
 grant garlands adorned the luxuriant foliage. A flock of 
 tomtits hopped and fluttered among the leaves, and chirped 
 and chattered clamorously. 
 
 "Let us stay a little longer," said Johannes. "It is delight- 
 ful here." 
 
 "Good," said Windekind. "Then you will see some more 
 comical things." 
 
 Little blue-bells were growing in the grass. Johannes went 
 up to one of them, and began to chat about the bees and the 
 butterflies. These were good friends of the blue-bell, and so 
 the conversation flowed smoothly on. . 
 
 What was that ? A great shadow passed over the grass, 
 and something like a white cloud descended upon the blue- 
 bell. Johannes scarcely had time to get out of the way. He 
 flew to Windekind, who was sitting high up in a honeysuckle. 
 From thence he saw that the white cloud was a handkerchief, 
 and just then a portly woman sat down hard upon the 
 handkerchief, and upon the poor little blue-bell that was 
 under it. 
 
 He had not time to lament, for the sound of voices and of 
 cracking branches filled the open place, and a crowd of people 
 approached. 
 
 " Now we are going to have a laugh," said Windekind. 
 
 There they came — human beings. The women with bas- 
 kets and umbrellas in hand ; the men with high, stiff black 
 hats on. Almost all the men were very, very black. In the 
 sunny, green forest, they looked like great, ugly ink spots on 
 a splendid picture. 
 
 Bushes were thrust rudely aside, and flowers were 
 trampled under foot. Many more white handkerchiefs were
 
 38 THEQUEST 
 
 spread over the meek grass; and the patient mosses, sighing, 
 yielded to the weight that bore them down, and feared never 
 to recover from the shock. 
 
 The smoke of cigars curled up over the honeysuckle vines, 
 spitefully driving away the delicate fragrance of their flowers ; 
 and loud voices scattered the merry tomtits, that, chirping 
 their fright and indignation, sought refuge in the nearest trees. 
 
 One man rose up from the crowd, and went to stand on a 
 little mound. He had long, light hair, and a pale face. He 
 said something, and then all the people opened their mouths 
 frightfully wide and began to sing so hard that the crows flew 
 up, croaking, from their high nests, and the inquisitive rabbits 
 that had come to the edge of the glade, just to look on, took 
 fright and started on a run, and kept it up a quarter of an hour 
 after they were safe again in the dunes. 
 
 Windekind laughed, and whisked away the cigar smoke 
 with a fern-leaf. The tears came into Johannes' eyes, but not 
 from the smoke. 
 
 "Windekind," said he, "I want to go away — it is so ugly 
 and horrid here." 
 
 "No, we must stay a while longer. You will laugh; it is 
 going to be still more comical." 
 
 The singing was over, and the pale man began to speak. 
 He shouted, so that all could hear, but what he said sounded 
 very kind. He called the people brothers and sisters, and 
 spoke of glorious nature, and the wonders of creation, of God's 
 sunshine and of the dear birds and flowers. . . . 
 
 "What is that ?" asked Johannes, "Why does he speak of 
 those things ? Does he know you .'' Is he a friend of yours ?" 
 
 Windekind shook his garlanded head disdainfully. 
 
 "He does not know me; still less the sun, the birds, the 
 flowers. Everything he says is false." 
 
 The people all listened very attentively. The fat woman 
 who was sitting on the blue-bell began several times to cry, 
 and wiped away her tears with her skirt, because she had not 
 the use of her handkerchief.
 
 THEQUEST "39 
 
 The pale man said that God had caused the sun to shine so 
 brightly for the sake of their meeting. Then Windekind 
 laughed and, out of the thick foliage, threw an acorn at his 
 nose. 
 
 " He shall find it otherwise," said he. " My father shine 
 for him ! How conceited ! " 
 
 But the pale man was too full of enthusiasm to mind the 
 acorn, which appeared to have fallen out of the sky. He 
 spoke a long time, and the longer the louder. At last he grew 
 purple in the face, clenched his fists, and shouted so loud that 
 the leaves trembled and the grasses waved hither and thither 
 in astonishment. When at last he calmed down, they all 
 began to sing again. 
 
 "Fie!" said a blackbird, who had heard the uproar from 
 the top of a high tree. " What a frightful racket ! I would 
 rather the cows came into the woods. Just hear that ! For 
 shame ! " 
 
 Now, the blackbird is a critic, and has fine taste. 
 
 After the singing, the people brought all sorts of eatables 
 from baskets, boxes, and bags. They spread out papers, and 
 distributed rolls and oranges. Bottles and glasses, too, came 
 to light. 
 
 Then Windekind called his allies together, and the siege of 
 the feasting company began. 
 
 A gallant frog jumped into the lap of an old lady, close 
 beside the bread she was just about to eat, and remained 
 sitting there, astonished at his own daring. The lady gave a 
 horrible shriek, and stared at the intruder in amazement, 
 without daring to stir. This mettlesome example found 
 imitators. Green caterpillars crept valiantly over hats, hand- 
 kerchiefs, and rolls, awakening fright and dismay. Big, fat 
 spiders let th-emselves down glistening threads into the beer 
 glasses, and upon heads or necks, and a loud, continual scream- 
 ing accompanied their attack. Innumerable small flies as- 
 sailed the people straight in the face, offering their lives for 
 the good of the cause by tumbling into the food and drink,
 
 40 THEQUEST 
 
 and, with tlieir bodies, making it unfit for use. Finally, came 
 multitudes of ants, a hundred at a time, and nipped the enemy 
 in the most unexpected places. Men and women sprang up 
 hurriedly from the long-crushed moss and grass; and the blue- 
 bell was liberated through the well-aimed attack of two ear- 
 wigs upon the ankles of the plump woman. Desperation 
 seized them all; dancing and jumping with the most comical 
 gestures, the people tried to escape from their pursuers. The 
 pale man stood his ground well, and struck out on all sides 
 with a small black stick; till a pair of malicious tomtits, that 
 considered no method of attack too mean, and a wasp, that 
 gave him a sting through his black trousers on the calf of the 
 leg, put him out of the fight. 
 
 The jolly sun could no longer keep his countenance, and 
 hid his face behind a cloud. Big rain-drops descended upon 
 the struggling party. Suddenly, as though it had rained down, a 
 forest of big black toadstools appeared. It was the outstretched 
 umbrellas. The women drew their skirts over their heads, 
 exposing white petticoats, white-stockinged ankles, and shoes 
 without heels. Oh, what fun it was for Windekind! He 
 laughed so hard he had to cling to the flower-stem. 
 
 Faster and faster fell the rain, and a greyish, glistening veil 
 began to envelop the woods. Water dripped from umbrellas, 
 high hats, and black coats. The coats shone like the shells of 
 the water beetle, while the shoes kissed and smacked on the 
 saturated ground. Then the people gave it up — dropping 
 silently away in little groups, leaving many papers, empty 
 bottles, and orange peels for unsightly tokens of their visit. 
 The little glade in the woods was again solitary, and soon 
 nothing was heard but the monotonous patter of the rain. 
 
 "Well, Johannes! Now we have seen human beings, also. 
 Why do you not laugh at them, as well ?" 
 
 "Oh, Windekind! Are all human beings like that?" 
 
 "Some of them are much worse and more ugly. At times 
 they swear and tear and make havoc with everything that is 
 beautiful or admirable. They cut down trees, and put horrid,
 
 THEQUEST 41 
 
 square houses in their places. They wantonly trample the 
 flowers, and kill, for the mere pleasure of it, every animal that 
 comes within their reach. In their cities, where they swarm 
 together, everything is dirty and black, and the air is dank and 
 poisonous with stench and smoke. They are completely 
 estranged from Nature and her fellow-creatures. That is 
 why they make such a foolish and sorry figure when they 
 return to them." 
 
 "Oh, Windekind! Windekind!" 
 
 "Why are you crying, Johannes? You must not cry be- 
 cause you were born among human beings. I love you all 
 the same, and prefer you to everybody else. I have taught 
 you the language of the birds and the butterflies, and how to 
 understand the look of the flowers. The moon knows you, 
 and good, kind Earth loves you as her dearest child. Why 
 should you not be glad, since I am your friend ?" 
 
 "Oh, Windekind, I am, I am! But then, I have to cry 
 about all those people." 
 
 "Why? If it makes you sad, you need not remain with 
 them. You can live here, and always keep me company. 
 We will dwell in the depths of the woods, on the lonely, sunny 
 dunes, or in the reeds by the pond. I will take you every- 
 where — down under the water among the water-plants, in 
 the palaces of the elves, and in the haunts of the goblins. I 
 will hover with you over fields and forests — over foreign 
 lands and seas. I will have dainty garments spun for you, 
 and wings given you like these I wear. We will live upon the 
 sweetness of the flowers, and dance in the moonlight with the 
 elves. When autumn comes, we will keep pace with the sun, 
 to lands where the tall palms rise, where gorgeous flowers 
 festoon the rocks, and the face of the deep blue sea lies smiling 
 in the sun. And I will always tell you stories. Would you 
 like that, Johannes?" 
 
 "Shall I never live with human beings any more?" 
 
 "Among human beings there await you endless sorrow, 
 trouble, weariness, and care. Day after day must you toil and
 
 42 THEQUEST 
 
 sigh under the burden of your life. They will stab and tor- 
 ture your sensitive soul with their roughness. They will rack 
 and harass you to death. Do you love human beings more 
 than you love me .'' " 
 
 "No, no, Windekind! I will stay with you." 
 
 Now he could show how much he cared for Windekind. 
 Yes, for his sake he would leave and forget each and every- 
 thing — his bedroom. Presto, and his father. Joyfully and 
 resolutely he repeated his wish. 
 
 The rain had ceased. From under grey clouds the sun- 
 light streamed over the woods like a bright smile. It touched 
 the wet, shining leaves, the rain-drops which sparkled on 
 every twig and stem, and adorned the spider-webs, stretched 
 over the oak-leaves. From the moist ground below the shrub- 
 bery a fine mist languidly rose, bearing with it a thousand 
 sultry, dreamy odors. The blackbird flew to the top of the 
 highest tree, and sang in broken, fervent strains to the sinking 
 sun, as if he would show which song suited best, in this solemn 
 evening calm, as an accompaniment to the falling drops. 
 
 "Is not that finer than the noise of human beings, Johannes ? 
 Yes, the blackbird knows exactly the right tone to strike. 
 Here everything is in harmony — such perfect harmony you 
 will never find among human beings." 
 
 "What is harmony, Windekind ?" 
 
 "It is the same as happiness. It is that for which all strive. 
 Human beings also. Yet they are like children trying to catch 
 a butterfly. They simply drive it away by their silly efforts." 
 
 "Shall I find it here with you ?" 
 
 "Yes, Johannes; but then you must forget human beings. 
 It is a bad beginning to have been born among human beings; 
 but you are still young. You must put away from you all 
 remembrance of your human life, else it would cause you to 
 err and plunge you into conflicts, perplexities, and misery. 
 It would be with you as with the young May-bug I told you 
 about." 
 
 "What else happened to him?"
 
 THE QUEST 43 
 
 "He had seen the bright Hght which the older beetle had 
 spoken of, and could think of nothing better to do than 
 promptly to fly to it. Straight as a string, he flew into a room, 
 and fell into human hands. For three long days he suff^ered 
 martyrdom. He was put into cardboard boxes, threads were 
 tied to his feet, and he was made to fly. Then he tore himself 
 free, with the loss of a wing and a leg, and finally, creeping 
 helplessly around on the carpet in a vain endeavor to reach 
 the garden, he was crushed by a heavy foot. 
 
 "All creatures, Johannes, that roam around in the night 
 are as truly children of the sun as we are. And although they 
 have never seen the shining face of their father, still a dim 
 remembrance ever impels them to anything from which light 
 streams. And thousands of poor creatures of the darkness 
 find a pitiful death through that love for the sun from whom 
 they were long ago cut off and estranged. Thus a mys- 
 terious, irresistible tendency brings human beings to destruc- 
 tion in the false phantom of that Great Light which gave them 
 being, but which they no longer understand." 
 
 Johannes looked up inquiringly into Windekind's eyes. 
 But they were deep and mysterious — like the dark sky be- 
 tween the stars. 
 
 "Do you mean God ?" he asked shyly. 
 
 "God?" The deep eyes laughed gently. "I know, 
 Johannes, of what you think when you utter that name; of 
 the chair before your bed beside which you make your long 
 prayer every evening; of the green serge curtains of the church 
 window at which you look so' often Sunday mornings; of the 
 capital letters of your little Bible; of the church-bag with the 
 long handle; of the wretched singing and the musty atmos- 
 phere. What you mean by that name, Johannes, is a ridicu- 
 lous phantom; instead of the sun, a great oil-lamp where 
 hundreds of thousands of gnats are helplessly stuck fast." 
 
 "But what then is the name of the Great Light, Windekind ? 
 And to whom must I pray?" 
 
 "Johannes, it is the same as if a speck of mold turning
 
 44 THEQUEST 
 
 round with the earth should ask me its bearer's name. If 
 there were an answer to your question you would understand 
 it no more than does the earth-worm the music of the spheres. 
 Still, I will teach you how to pray." 
 
 Then, with little Johannes, who was musing in silent won- 
 der over his words, Windekind flew up out of the forest, so 
 high that beyond the horizon a long streak of shining gold 
 became visible. On they flew — the fantastically shadowed 
 plain gliding beneath their glance. And the band of light 
 grew broader and broader. The green of the dunes grew 
 dun, the grass looked grey, and strange, pale-blue plants were 
 growing there. Still another high range of hills, a long narrow 
 stretch of sand, and then the wide, awful sea. 
 
 That great expanse was blue as far as the horizon, but 
 below the sun flashed a narrow streak of glittering, blinding 
 red. 
 
 A long, fleecy margin of white foam encircled the sea, like 
 an ermine border upon blue velvet. 
 
 And at the horizon, sky and water were separated by an 
 exquisite, wonderful line. It seemed miraculous; straight, 
 and yet curved, sharp, yet undefined — visible, yet inscrutable. 
 It was like the sound of a harp that echoes long and dream- 
 fully, seeming to die away and yet remaining. 
 
 Then little Johannes sat down upon the top of the hill and 
 gazed — gazed long, in motionless silence, until it seemed to 
 him as if he were about to die — as if the great golden doors 
 of the universe were majestically unfolding, and his little soul 
 were drifting toward the first light of Infinity. 
 
 And then the tears welled in his wide-open eyes till they 
 shrouded the glory of the sun, and obscured the splendor of 
 heaven and earth in a dim and misty twilight. 
 
 "That is the way to pray,' said Windekind.
 
 Did you ever wander through the woods on a beautiful autumn 
 day, when the sun was shining, cahii and bright, upon the 
 richly tinted foliage; when the boughs creaked, and the dry 
 leaves rustled about your feet ? 
 
 The woods seem so weary. They can only meditate, and 
 live in old remembrances. A blue haze, like a dream, sur- 
 rounds them with a mysterious beauty, and glistening gos- 
 samer floats through the air in idle undulations — like futile, 
 aimless meditations. 
 
 Yet, suddenly and unaccountably, out of the damp ground, 
 between moss and dry leaves, rise up the marvelous toad- 
 stools; some thick, deformed, and fleshy; others tall and slender 
 with ringed stems and bright-colored hoods. Strange dream- 
 figures of the woods are they! 
 
 There may be seen also, on moldering tree-trunks, count- 
 less, small white growths with little black tops, as if they had 
 been burnt. Some wise folk consider them a kind of fungus. 
 But Johannes learned better. 
 
 "They are little candles. They burn in still autumn nights, 
 and the goblin mannikins sit beside them, and read in little 
 books." 
 
 Windekind taught him that, on such a still autumn day, while 
 Johannes dreamly inhaled the faint odor of the forest soil. 
 
 "What makes the leaves of the sycamore so spotted with 
 black?" 
 
 "Oh, the goblins do that, too," said Windekind. "When 
 they have been writing nights, they throw out in the morning, 
 over the leaves, what is left in their ink bottles. They do not 
 like this tree. Crosses, and poles for contribution bags, are 
 made out of sycamore wood." 
 
 Johannes was inquisitive about the busy little goblins, and 
 he made W^indckind promise to take him to one of them. 
 
 45
 
 46 THEQUEST 
 
 He had already been a long time with Windekind, and he 
 was so happy in his new life that he felt very little regret over 
 his promise to forget all he had left behind. There were no 
 times of anxiety or of loneliness — times when remorse wakens. 
 Windekind never left him, and with him he was at home in 
 any place. He slept peacefully, in the rocking nest of the 
 reed-bird that hung among the green stalks, although the 
 bittern roared and the raven croaked so ominously. He felt 
 no fear on account of pouring rains nor shrieking winds. At 
 such times he took shelter in hollow trees or rabbit-holes, and 
 crept close under Windekind's mantle, and listened to the 
 voice which was telling him stories. 
 
 And now he was going to see the goblins. 
 
 It was a good day for the visit — so veiy still. Johannes 
 fancied he could already hear their light little voices, and the 
 tripping of their tiny feet, although it was yet midday. 
 
 The birds were nearly all gone — the thrushes alone were 
 feasting on the scarlet berries. One was caught in a snare. 
 There it hung with outstretched wings, struggling until the 
 tightly pinioned little foot was nearly severed. Johannes 
 quickly released it, and with a joyful chirp the bird flew 
 swiftly away. 
 
 The toadstools were having a chatty time together. 
 
 "Just look at me," said one fat devil-fungus. "Did you 
 ever see anything like it ? See how thick and white my stem 
 is, and see how my hood shines! I am the biggest of all. 
 And that in one night!" 
 
 "Bah!" said the red fly-fungus. "You are very clumsy — 
 so brown and rough. I sway on my slender stalk like a 
 grass stem. I am splendidly red, like the thrush-berry and 
 gorgeously speckled. I am handsomer than any of you." 
 
 " Be still I " said Johannes, who had known them well in 
 former days. " You are both poisonous." 
 
 "That is a virtue," said the red fungus. 
 
 " Do you happen to be a human being ? " grumbled the big 
 fellow, scornfully. " If so, I would like to have you cat me up !"
 
 THEQUEST 47 
 
 Johannes did not do that, however. He took httle dry 
 twigs, and stuck them into his clumsy hood. That made him 
 look silly, and all the others laughed — among them, a little 
 group of tiny toadstools with small, brown heads, who in a 
 couple of hours had sprung up together, and were jostling one 
 another to get a peep at the world. The devil-fungus was 
 blue with rage. That brought to light his poisonous nature. 
 
 PufF-balls raised their round, inflated little heads on four- 
 pointed pedestals. From time to time a cloud of brown 
 powder, of the utmost fineness, flew out of the opening in the 
 round head. Wherever on the moist ground that powder fell, 
 tiny rootlets would interlace in the black earth, and the fol- 
 lowing year hundreds of new puff-balls would spring up 
 
 "What a beautiful existence!" said they to one another. 
 "The very acme of attainment is to puff powder. What a joy 
 to be able to puff, as long as one lives!" 
 
 And with devout consecration they drove the small dust- 
 clouds into the air. 
 
 "Are they right, Windekind?" 
 
 "Why not? For them, what can be higher? It is for- 
 tunate that they long for nothing more, when they can do 
 nothing else." 
 
 When night fell, and the shadows of the trees were inter- 
 mingled in one general obscurity, that mysterious forest life 
 did not cease. The branches cracked and snapped, the dry 
 leaves rustled hither and thither over the grass and in the 
 underwood, and Johannes felt the draft from inaudible 
 wing-strokes, and was conscious of the presence of invisible 
 beings. And now he heard, clearly, whispering voices and 
 tripping footsteps. Look! There, in the dusky depths of 
 the bushes, a tiny blue spark just twinkled, and then went out. 
 Another one, and another! Hush! Listening attentively, 
 he could hear a rustling in the leaves close beside him, by the 
 dark tree-trunk. The blue lights appeared from behind this, 
 and held still at the top. 
 
 Everywhere, now, Johannes saw glimmering lights. They
 
 +8 THEOUEST 
 
 floated through the foliage, danced and skipped along the 
 ground; and yonder was a great, glowing mass like a blue 
 bonfire. 
 
 "What kind of fire is that?" asked Johannes. "How 
 splendidly it burns!" 
 
 "That is a decayed tree-trunk," said Windekind. Then 
 they went up to a bright little light, which was burning 
 steadily. 
 
 "Now I will introduce you to Wistik.* He is the oldest and 
 wisest of the goblins." 
 
 Having come up closer, Johannes saw him sitting beside 
 his little candle. By the blue light of this, one could plainly 
 distinguish the wrinkled, grey-bearded face. He was reading 
 aloud, and his eyebrows were knit. On his head he wore a 
 little acorn cap with a tiny feather in it. Before him sat a 
 spider — listening to the reading. 
 
 Without lifting his head, the goblin glanced up from the 
 book as the two approached, and raised his eyebrows. The 
 spider crept away. "Good evening," said the goblin. "I 
 am Wistik. Who are you ?" 
 
 "My name is Johannes. I am very happy to make your 
 acquaintance. What are you reading.?" 
 
 "This is not intended for your ears," said Wistik. "It is 
 only for spiders." 
 
 "Let me have just a peep at it, dear Wistik!" said Johannes. 
 
 "I must not. It is the Sacred Book of the spiders. It is 
 in my keeping, and I must never let it out of my hands. I have 
 the Sacred Book of the beetles and the butterflies and the 
 hedgehogs and the moles, and of everything that lives here. 
 They cannot all read, and when they wish to know anything, 
 I read it aloud to them. That is a great honor for me — a 
 position of trust, you know." 
 
 The mannikin nodded very seriously a couple of times, and 
 raised a tiny forefinger. 
 
 "What were you reading just now ?" 
 
 " The history of Kribblegauw,* the great hero of the spiders, 
 
 * See note, page 520.
 
 THEQUEST 49 
 
 who lived a long while ago. He had a web that stretched 
 over three trees, and that caught in it millions of flies in a day. 
 Before Kribblegauw's time, spiders made no webs, and lived 
 on grass and dead creatures; but Kribblegauw was a clever 
 chap, and demonstrated that living things also were created 
 for spider's food. And by difficult calculations, for he was 
 a great mathematician, Kribblegauw invented the artful 
 spider-web. And the spiders still make their webs, thread 
 for thread, exactly as he taught them, only much smaller ; 
 for the spider family has sadly degenerated." 
 
 "Kribblegauw caught large birds in his web, and murdered 
 thousands of his own children. There was a spider for you! 
 Finally, a mighty storm arose, and dragged Kribblegauw with 
 his web, and the three trees to which it was fastened, away 
 through the air to distant forests, where he is now everlast- 
 ingly honored because of his nimbleness and blood-thirstiness." 
 
 "Is that all true ?" asked Johannes. 
 
 "It is in this book," said Wistik. 
 
 "Do you believe it ?" 
 
 The goblin shut one eye, and rested his forefinger along the 
 side of his nose. 
 
 "Whenever Kribblegauw is mentioned, in the Sacred Books 
 of the other animals, he is called a despicable monster; but 
 that is beyond me." 
 
 "Is there a Book of the Goblins, too, Wistik?" 
 
 Wistik glanced at Johannes somewhat suspiciously. 
 
 "What kind of being are you, really, Johannes ? There is 
 something about you so — so human, I should say." 
 
 "No, no! Rest assured, Wistik," said Windekind then. 
 "We are elves; but Johannes has seen, formerly, many human 
 beings. You can trust him, however. It will do him no 
 harm." 
 
 "Yes, yes, that is well and good; but I am called the wisest 
 of the goblins, and I studied long and hard before I learned 
 what I know. Now I must be prudent with my wisdom. If 
 I tell too much, I shall lose my reputation."
 
 50 THEQUEST 
 
 "But in what book, then, do you think the truth is told ?" 
 
 "I have read much, but I do not beheve I have ever read 
 that book. It is not the Book of the Elves, nor the Book of 
 the Goblins. Still, there must be such a book." 
 
 "The Book of Human Beings, perhaps?" 
 
 "That I do not know, but I should hardly think so, for the 
 Book of Truth ought to bring great peace and happiness. It 
 should state exactly why everything is as it is, so that no one 
 could ask or wish for anything more. Now, I do not believe 
 human beings have got so far as that." 
 
 "Oh, no! no!" laughed Windekind. 
 
 "Is there really such a book?" asked Johannes, eagerly. 
 
 "Yes!" whispered the goblin. "I know it from old, old 
 stories. And hush! I know too, where it is, and who can 
 find it." 
 
 "Oh, Wistik, Wistik!" 
 
 "Then why have you not yet got it?" asked Windekind. 
 
 "Have patience. It will happen all right. Some of the 
 particulars I do not yet know, but I shall soon find it. I have 
 worked for it and sought it all my life. For to him who finds 
 it, life will be an endless autumnal day — blue sky above and 
 blue haze about — but no falling leaves will rustle, no bough 
 will break, and no drops will patter. The shadows will not 
 waver, and the gold on the tree-tops will not fade. What now 
 seems to us light will be as darkness, and what now seems to 
 us happiness will be as sorrow, to him who has read that book. 
 Yes, I know this about it, and sometime I shall find it." The 
 goblin raised his eyebrows veiy high, and laid his finger on 
 his lips. 
 
 "Wistik, if you could only teach me. . . ." began Johannes, 
 but before he could end he felt a heavy gust of wind, and saw, 
 exactly above him, a huge black object which shot past, 
 swiftly and inaudibly. 
 
 When he looked round again for Wistik, he caught just a 
 glimpse of a little foot disappearing in a tree-trunk. Zip! — 
 The goblin had dashed into his hole, head first — book and
 
 THE QUEST 51 
 
 all. The candles burned more and more feebly, and suddenly 
 went out. They were very queer little candles. 
 
 "What was that?" asked Johannes, in a fright, clinging 
 fast to Windekind in the darkness. 
 
 "A night-owl," said Windekind. 
 
 They were both silent for a while. Then Johannes asked: 
 
 "Do you believe what Wistik said ?" 
 
 "Wistik is not so wise as he thinks he is. He will never 
 find such a book. Neither will you." 
 
 " But does it exist ? " 
 
 "That book exists the same as your shadow exists, Johan- 
 nes. However hard you run, however carefully you may 
 reach for it, you will never overtake nor grasp it; and, in the 
 end, you will discover that it is yourself you chase. Do not 
 be foolish — forget the goblin's chatter. I will tell you a 
 hundred finer stories. Come with me! We will go to the 
 edge of the woods, and see how our good Father lifts the 
 fleecy, white dew-blankets from the sleeping meadow-lands. 
 Come!" 
 
 Johannes went, but he had not understood Windekind's 
 words and he did not follow his advice. And while he watched 
 the dawn of the brilliant autumn day, he was brooding over the 
 book wherein was stated why all is as it is, and softly repeating 
 to himself, "Wistik!"
 
 VI 
 
 It seemed to him during the days that followed that it was 
 no longer so merry and cheerful as it had been — in the woods 
 and in the dunes — with Windekind. His thoughts were no 
 longer wholly occupied with what Windekind told or showed 
 him. Again and again he found himself musing over that 
 book, but he dared not speak of it. Nothing he looked at now 
 seemed beautiful or wonderful. The clouds were so black 
 and heavy, he feared they might fall upon him. It pained 
 him when the restless autumn winds shook and whipped the 
 poor, tired trees until the pale under sides of the green leaves 
 were upturned, and yellow foliage and dry branches flew up 
 in the air. 
 
 What Windekind related gave him no satisfaction. Much 
 of it he did not understand, and whenever he asked one of his 
 old questions he never received a full, clear, satisfactory 
 answer. 
 
 Thus he was forced to think again of that book wherein 
 everything stood so clearly and plainly written; and of that 
 ever sunny, tranquil, autumn day which was to follow. 
 
 "Wistik! Wistik!" 
 
 Windekind heard it. 
 
 "Johannes, you will remain a human being, I fear. Even 
 your friendship is like that of human beings. The first one 
 after me to speak to you has carried away your confidence. 
 Alas! My mother was quite right!" 
 
 "No, Windekind! But you are so much wiser than Wistik; 
 you are as wise as that book. Why do you not tell me all ? 
 See, now! Why does the wind blow through the trees, making 
 them bend and sway? Look! They can bear no more; the 
 finest branches are breaking and the leaves are torn away by 
 hundreds, although they are still so green and fresh. They 
 are so tired, and yet again and again they are shaken and 
 
 5^
 
 THEQUEST 53 
 
 lashed by this rude and cruel wind. Why is it so ? What 
 does the wind want ? " 
 
 "My poor Johannes. That is human language!" 
 "Make it be still, Windekind! I like calm and sunshine." 
 "You ask and wish like a human being; therefore there is 
 neither answer nor fulfilment. If you do not learn better to 
 ask and desire, the autumn day will never dawn for you, and 
 you will become like the thousands of human beings who have 
 spoken to Wistik." 
 "Are there so many?" 
 
 "Yes, thousands, Wistik pretended to be very mysterious, 
 but he is a prater who cannot keep his secret. He hopes to 
 find that book among human beings, and he shares his knowl- 
 edge with any one who, perhaps, can help him. And so he 
 has already caused a great deal of unhappiness. Many be- 
 lieve him, and search for that book with as much fervor as 
 some do the secret of the art of making gold. They sacrifice 
 everything, and forget all their affairs — even their happiness 
 — and shut themselves up among thick books, and strange 
 implements and materials. They hazard their lives and their 
 health — forget the blue heavens, good, kindly Nature, and 
 even their fellow-beings. Sometimes they find beautiful and 
 useful things, like lumps of gold. These they cast up out of 
 their caves, on the sunny surface of the earth. Yet they do 
 not concern themselves with these things — leaving them for 
 others to enjoy. They dig and drudge in the darkness with 
 eager expectancy. They are not seeking gold, but the book. 
 Some grow feeble-mindfed with the toil, forget their object and 
 their desire, and wander about in aimless idleness. The goblin 
 has made them childish. They may be seen piling up little 
 towers of sand, and reckoning how many grains are lacking 
 before they tumble down. They make little waterfalls, and 
 calculate precisely each bend and bay the flow will make. 
 They dig little pits, and employ all their patience and genius 
 in making them smooth and quite free from stones. If these 
 poor, infatuated ones are disturbed in their labor, and asked
 
 54 THEQUEST 
 
 what they are doing, they look at you seriously and impor- 
 tantly, shake their heads and mutter: 'Wistik! Wistik!' 
 Yes, it is all the fault of that wicked little goblin. Look out 
 for him, Johannes ! " 
 
 But Johannes was staring before him at the swaying, creak- 
 ing trees. Above his clear child-eyes wrinkles had formed in 
 the tender flesh. Never before had he looked so grave. 
 
 "But yet — - you have said it yourself, that there was such a 
 book! Oh, I know — certainly — that there is something in 
 it which you will not tell me concerning the Great Light." 
 
 "Poor, poor Johannes!" said Windekind. And above the 
 rushing and roaring of the storm his voice was like a peaceful 
 choral-song borne from afar. "Love me — love me with your 
 whole being. In me you will find more than you desire. You 
 will realize what you cannot now imagine, and you will your- 
 self be what you have longed to know. Earth and heaven 
 will be your confidants — the stars your next of kin — in- 
 finity your dwelling-place. Love me — love me! Cling to 
 me as the hop-vine clings to the tree — be true to me as the 
 lake is to its bed. In me alone will you find repose, 
 Johannes." 
 
 Windekind's words were ended, but it seemed as though 
 the choral-song continued. Out of the remote distance it 
 seemed to be floating on — solemn and regular — above the 
 rushing and soughing of the wind — peaceful as the moonlight 
 shining between the driving clouds. 
 
 Windekind stretched out his arms, and Johannes slept upon 
 his bosom, protected by the little blue mantle. 
 
 Yet in the night he waked up. A stillness had suddenly 
 and imperceptibly come over the earth, and the moon had 
 sunk below the horizon. The wearied leaves hung motion- 
 less, and silent darkness filled the forest. 
 
 Then those questions came back to Johannes' head again 
 — in swift, ghostly succession — driving out the very recent 
 trustfulness. Why were human beings as they were ? Why 
 must he leave them — forego their love ? Why must the winter
 
 THEQUEST 55 
 
 come ? Why must the leaves fall, and the flowers die ? Why ? 
 — Why? 
 
 There were the blue lights again — dancing in the depths of 
 the underwood. They came and went. Johannes gazed 
 after them expectantly. He saw the big, bright light shining 
 on the dark tree-trunk. Windekind lay very still, and fast 
 asleep. 
 
 "Just one question more," thought Johannes, and he slipped 
 out from under the blue mantle. 
 
 "Here you are again!" said Wistik, nodding in a friendly 
 way. "That gives me a great deal of pleasure. Where is 
 your friend .''" 
 
 " Over yonder. I only wanted to ask you one more 
 question. Will you answer it ? " 
 
 "You have been among human beings, have you not? Is 
 it my secret you have come for?" 
 
 "Who will find that book, Wistik ?" 
 
 "Ah, yes. That's it; that's it! Will you help me if I tell 
 you r 
 
 "If I can, certainly." 
 
 "Listen then, Johannes." Wistik opened his eyes amaz- 
 ingly wide, and lifted his eyebrows higher than ever. Then 
 he whispered along the back of his little hand: 
 
 "Human beings have the golden chest, fairies have the 
 golden key. The foe of fairies finds it not; fairies' friend only, 
 opens it. A springtime night is the proper time, and Robin 
 Redbreast knows the way." 
 
 "Is that true, really true ?" cried Johannes, as he thought of 
 his little key. 
 
 "Yes," said Wistik. 
 
 "Why, then, has no one yet found it?" asked Johannes. 
 So many people are seeking it!" 
 
 "I have told no human being what I have confided to you, 
 I have never yet found the fairies' friend." 
 
 "I have it, Wistik! I can help you!" cried Johannes, clap- 
 ping his hands. "I will ask Windekind."
 
 56 THEQUEST 
 
 Away he flew, over moss and dry leaves. Still, he stumbled 
 now and then, and his step was heavy. Thick branches 
 cracked under his feet where before not a grass-blade had bent. 
 
 There was the dense clump of ferns under which they had 
 slept: how low it looked! 
 
 "Windekind!" he cried. But the sound of his own voice 
 startled him. 
 
 "Windekind?" It sounded like a human voice! A 
 frightened night-bird flew up with a scream. 
 
 There was no one under the ferns. Johannes could see 
 nothing. 
 
 The blue lights had vanished. It was cold, and impene- 
 trably dark all around him. Up above, he saw the black, 
 spectral tree-tops against the starlight. 
 
 Once more he called. He dared not again. His voice 
 seemed a profanation of the stillness, and Windekind's name 
 a mocking sound. 
 
 Then poor little Johannes fell to the ground, and sobbed in 
 contrite sorrow.
 
 VII 
 
 The morning was cold and grey. The black, glimmering 
 boughs, all stripped by the storm, were weeping in the mist. 
 Little Johannes ran hurriedly on over the wet, down-beaten 
 grass — staring before him toward the edge of the woods 
 where it was lighter, as if that were the end in view. His eyes 
 were red from crying, and strained with fear and misery. He 
 had been running back and forth the whole night, looking for 
 the light. It had always been safe and home-like with Winde- 
 kind. Now, in every dark spot lurked the ghost of forlorn- 
 ness, and he dared not look around. 
 
 At last, he left the woods and saw before him a meadow 
 over which a fine, drizzling rain was falling. A horse stood 
 in the middle of it near a leafless willow-tree, motionless and 
 with drooping head, while the water dripped slowly from its 
 shining sides, and out of its matted mane. 
 
 Johannes walked along by the woods. He looked with 
 tired, anxious eyes toward the lonely horse and the grey, misty 
 rain, and he whimpered softly. 
 
 "All is over now," he thought. "The sun will never come 
 out again. After this it will always be with me as it is now 
 — here." 
 
 But he dared not stand still in his despair; something more 
 frightful yet would happen, he thought. 
 
 Then he saw the grand enclosure of a country-seat, and, 
 under a linden tree with bright yellow foliage, a little cottage. 
 
 He went within the enclosure, and walked through broad 
 avenues where the ground was thickly covered with layers of 
 brown and yellow linden leaves. Purple asters grew along 
 the grass-plots, and other brilliant autumn flowers were flam- 
 ing there. 
 
 Then he came to a pond. Beside it stood a large house 
 with low windows and glass doors. Rose-bushes and ivy 
 
 57
 
 58 THEQUEST 
 
 grew against the wall. It was all shut up, and wore a gloomy 
 look. Chestnut-trees, half stripped of their foliage, stood all 
 around; and, amid their fallen leaves, Johannes saw the shin- 
 ing brown chestnuts. 
 
 Then that chill, deathly feeling passed away. He thought 
 of his own home. There, too, were chestnut-trees, and at this 
 season he always went to find the glossy nuts. Suddenly he 
 began to feel a longing — as though he had heard the call of 
 a familiar voice. He sat down upon a bench near the house, 
 and gave vent to his feelings in tears. 
 
 A peculiar odor caused him to look up. A man stood near 
 him with a white apron on, and a pipe in his mouth. About 
 his waist were strips of linden bark for binding up the flowers. 
 Johannes knew this scent so well; it made him think of his own 
 garden, and of the gardener, who brought him pretty cater- 
 pillars, and showed him starlings' eggs. 
 
 He was not alarmed, although it was a human being who 
 stood beside him. He told the man that he had been deserted 
 and was lost, and he gratefully followed him to the small 
 dwelling under the yellow-leaved linden-tree. 
 
 Indoors sat the gardener's wife, knitting black stockings. 
 Over the peat fire in the fireplace hung a big kettle of boiling 
 water. On the mat by the fire lay a cat with folded forepaws 
 — just as Simon sat when Johannes left home. 
 
 Johannes was given a seat by the fire that he might dry his 
 feet. "Tick, tack! — Tick, tack!" said the big, hanging 
 clock. Johannes looked at the steam which rose, hissing, 
 from the kettle, and to the little tongues of flame that skipped 
 nimbly and whimsically over the peat. 
 
 "Now I am among human beings," thought he. 
 
 It was not bad. He felt calm and contented. They were 
 good and kind, and asked what he would like best to do. 
 
 "I would like best to stay here," he replied. 
 
 Here he was at peace, but if he went home, sorrow and 
 tears would follow. He would be obliged to maintain silence, 
 and they would tell him that he had been naughty. He would
 
 THEQUEST 59 
 
 have to see all the past over again, and think once more of 
 everything. 
 
 He did long for his little room, for his father, for Presto — 
 but he vi^ould rather endure the silent longing where he was, 
 than the painful, racking return. It seemed as if here he 
 might be thinking of Windekind, while at home he could not. 
 
 Windekind had surely gone away now — far away to the 
 sunny land where the palms were bending over the blue seas. 
 He would do penance here, and wait for him. 
 
 And so he implored the two good people to let him stay. 
 He would be obedient and work for them. He would help 
 care for the garden and the flowers, but only for this winter; — 
 for he hoped in his heart that Windekind would return in 
 the spring. 
 
 The gardener and his wife thought that Johannes had run 
 away because he was not treated well at home. They sym- 
 pathized with him, and promised to let him stay. 
 
 He remained, and helped them in the garden and among 
 the flowers. He was given a little bedroom, with a blue 
 wooden bedstead. From it, mornings, he could see the wet, 
 yellow linden leaves slipping along the window-panes; and 
 nights, the dark boughs rocking to and fro — with the stars 
 playing hide-and-seek behind them. He gave names to the 
 stars, and called the brightest Windekind. 
 
 He told his history to the flowers — almost all of which he 
 had known at home; the big, serious asters, the gaudy zinias, 
 and the white chrysanthemums which continued to bloom so 
 late in the rude autumn. When all the other flowers were 
 dead the chrysanthemums still stood — and even after the 
 first snowfall, when Johannes came one morning early to look 
 at them, they lifted their cheerful faces and said: "Yes, we are 
 still here. You didn't think we would be, did you ?" They 
 were very brave, but two days later they were all dead. 
 
 But the palms and tree-ferns still flourished in the green- 
 house, and the strange flower-clusters of the orchids hung in 
 their humid, sultry air. Johannes gazed with wonder into the
 
 6o THEQUEST 
 
 splendid cups, and thought of Windekind. On going out-of- 
 doors, how cold and colorless everything looked — the black 
 footsteps in the damp snow, and the rattling, dripping skele- 
 tons of trees! 
 
 Hour after hour, while the snowflakes were silently falling 
 until the branches bowed beneath their weight of down, 
 Johannes walked eagerly on in the violet dusk of the snow- 
 shadowed woods. It was silence, but not death. And it was 
 almost more beautiful than summer verdure; the interlocking 
 of the pure white branches against the clear blue sky, or the 
 descending clouds of glittering flakes when a heavily laden 
 shrub let slide its snowy burden. 
 
 Once, on such a walk, when he had gone so far that nothing 
 was to be seen save snow, and snow-covered branches — half 
 white, half black — and all sound and life seemed smothered 
 under its glistening covering, he thought he saw a tiny white 
 animal run nimbly out in front of him. He followed it. It 
 bore no likeness to any that he knew. Then he tried to grasp 
 it, but it sped away and disappeared in a tree-trunk. Jo- 
 hannes peered into the round, black opening, and thought 
 — "Could it be Wistik?" 
 
 He did not think much about him. It seemed mean to do 
 so, and he did not wish to weaken in his doing of penance. 
 And life with the two good people left him little to ask for. 
 Evenings, he had to read aloud out of a thick book, in which 
 much was said about God. But he knew that book, and 
 read it absent-mindedly. 
 
 The night after his walk in the snow, however, he lay awake 
 in bed, looking at the cold shining of the moonlight on the 
 floor. Suddenly he saw two tiny hands close beside him — 
 clinging fast to the bedside. Then the top of a little white fur 
 cap appeared between the two hands, and at last he saw a 
 pair of earnest eyes under high-lifted eyebrows. 
 
 "Good evening, Johannes," said Wistik. "I came to 
 remind you of our agreement. You cannot have found the 
 book yet, for the spring has not come. But are you keeping
 
 THE QUEST 6i 
 
 it in mind ? What is the thick book I have seen you reading 
 in ? That cannot be the true book. Do not think that." 
 
 "I do not think so, Wistik," said Johannes, He turned 
 over and tried to go to sleep again, but he could not get the 
 little key out of his head. 
 
 And from this time on, as he read in the thick book, he 
 kept thinking about it, and he saw clearly that it was not the 
 true book.
 
 VIII 
 
 "Now he will come," thought Johannes, the first time the 
 snow had melted away, and here and there little clusters of 
 snowdrops began to appear. "Will he not come now?" he 
 asked the snowdrops. They could not tell, but remained with 
 drooping heads looking at the earth as if they were ashamed 
 of their haste, and wished to creep away again. 
 
 If they only could have done so! The numbing east winds 
 soon began to blow again, and the poor, rash things were 
 buried deep in the drifted snow. 
 
 Weeks later came the violets, their sweet perfume floating 
 through the shrubbery. And when the sun had shone long 
 and warmly on the mossy ground, the fair primulas opened 
 out by hundreds and by thousands. 
 
 The shy violets, with their rich fragrance, were mysterious 
 harbingers of coming magnificence, yet the cheerful primulas 
 were gladness itself. The awakened earth had taken to her- 
 self the first sunbeams, and made of them a golden orna- 
 ment. 
 
 "Now," thought Johannes, "now he is surely coming!" In 
 suspense he watched the buds on the branches, as they swelled 
 slowly day by day, and freed themselves from the bark, till 
 the first pale-green points appeared among the brown scales. 
 Johannes stayed a long time looking at those little green 
 leaves, and never saw them stir. But even if he only just 
 turned around they seemed to have grown bigger. "They 
 do not dare while I am watching them," he thought. 
 
 The foliage had already begun to cast a shade, yet Winde- 
 kind had not come. No dove had alighted near him — no 
 little mouse had spoken to him. When he addressed the 
 flowers they scarcely nodded, and made no reply whatever. 
 "My penance is not over yet," he thought. 
 
 Then one sunny spring morning he passed the pond and 
 
 62
 
 THEQUEST 63 
 
 the house. The windows were all wide open. He wondered 
 if any of the people had come yet. 
 
 The wild cherry that stood by the pond was entirely covered 
 with tender leaves. Every twig was furnished with little, 
 delicate-green wings. On the grass beside the bush sat a 
 young girl. Johannes saw only her light-blue frock and her 
 blonde hair. A robin was perched on her shoulder, and 
 pecked out of her hand. Suddenly, she turned her head 
 around and saw Johannes. 
 
 "Good day, little boy," said she, nodding in a friendly way. 
 
 Again Johannes thrilled from head to foot. Those were 
 Windekind's eyes — that was Windekind's voice! 
 
 "Who are you ?" he asked, his lips quivering with feeling. 
 
 "I am Robinetta, and this is my bird. He will not be 
 afraid of you. Do you like birds .f"' 
 
 The redbreast was not afraid of Johannes. It flew to his 
 arm. That was like old times. And it must be Windekind 
 — that azure being! 
 
 "Tell me your name, Laddie," said Windekind's voice. 
 
 " Do you not know me ? Do you not know that I am 
 Johannes ?" 
 
 "How could I know that?" 
 
 What did that mean ? Still, it was the well-known, sweet 
 voice. Those were the dark, heavenly-deep, blue eyes. 
 
 "Why do you look at me so, Johannes.^ Have you ever 
 seen me before ? " 
 
 "Yes, I do believe so." 
 
 "Surely, you must have dreamed it!" 
 
 "Dreamed?" thought Johannes. "Can I have dreamed 
 everything? Can I be dreaming now?" 
 
 "Where were you born?" he asked. 
 
 "A long way from here, in a great city." 
 
 "Amone human beings?" 
 
 Robinetta laughed. It was Windekind's laugh. "I be- 
 lieve so. Were not you?" 
 
 "Alas, yes! I was too!"
 
 64 THEQUEST 
 
 "Are you sorry for that ? Do you not like human beings ?" 
 
 "No. Who COM W Hke them ? " 
 
 "Who? Well, Johannes; but you are an odd child! Do 
 you like animals better?" 
 
 "Oh, much better — and flowers." 
 
 "Really, I do, too — sometimes. But that is not right. 
 Father says we must love our friends." 
 
 "Why is that not right? I like whom I choose whether it 
 is right or not." 
 
 "Fie, Johannes! Have you no parents, then, nor any one 
 who cares for you ? Are you not fond of them ?" 
 
 "Yes," said Johannes, remembering. "I love my father, 
 but not because it is right, nor because he is a human 
 being." 
 
 "Why, then?" 
 
 "I do not know — because he is not like other human 
 beings — because he, too, is fond of birds and flowers." 
 
 "And so am I, Johannes. Look!" And Robinetta called 
 the robin to her hand, and petted it. 
 
 "I know it," said Johannes. "And I love you very much, 
 too. 
 
 "Already ? That is very soon," laughed the girl. "Whom 
 do you love best of all ? " 
 
 "I love — " Johannes hesitated. Should he speak Winde- 
 kind's name ? The fear that he might let slip that name to 
 human ears was never out of his thoughts. And yet, was not 
 this fair-haired being in blue, Windekind himself? Who else 
 could give him that feeling of rest and happiness ? 
 
 "You!" said he, all at once, looking frankly into the deep 
 blue eyes. Courageously, he ventured a full surrender. He 
 was anxious, though, and eagerly awaited the reception of his 
 precious gift. 
 
 Again Robinetta laughed heartily, but she pressed his hand, 
 and her look was no colder, her voice no less cordial. 
 
 "Well, Johannes," said she, "what have I done to earn 
 this so suddenly ?"
 
 THEQUEST 65 
 
 Johannes made no reply, but stood looking at her with 
 growing confidence. 
 
 Robinetta stood up, and laid her arm about Johannes' 
 shoulders. She was taller than he. 
 
 Thus they strolled through the woods, and picked great 
 clusters of cowslips, until they could have hidden under the 
 mountain of sun-filled yellow flowers. The little redbreast 
 went with them — flying from branch to branch, and peering 
 at them with its shining little black eyes. 
 
 They did not speak much, but now and then looked askance 
 at each other. They were both perplexed by this adventure, 
 and uncertain what they ought to think of each other. 
 
 Much to her regret, Robinetta had soon to turn back. 
 
 "I must go now, Johannes, but will you not take another 
 walk with me ? I think you are a nice little boy," said she in 
 taking her leave. 
 
 "Tweet! Tweet!" said the robin as he flew after her. 
 
 When she had gone, and her image alone remained to him, 
 he doubted no more who she was. She was the very same to 
 whom he had given his friendship. The name Windekind 
 rang fainter, and became confused with Robinetta. 
 
 Everything about him was again the same as it had formerly 
 been. The flowers nodded cheerfully, and their perfume 
 chased away the melancholy longing for home which, until 
 now, he had felt and encouraged. Amid the tender greenery, 
 in the soft, mild, vernal air, he felt all at once at home, like a 
 bird that had found its nest. He stretched out his arms and 
 took in a full, deep breath — he was so happy! On his way 
 home, wherever he looked he always saw gliding before him 
 the figure in light blue with the golden hair. It was as though 
 he had been looking at the sun, until its image was stamped 
 upon everything he saw. 
 
 From this day on Johannes went to the pond every clear 
 morning. He went early — as soon as he was wakened by 
 the squabbling of the sparrows in the ivy about his window, 
 and by the tedious chirping and chattering of the starlings, as
 
 66 THEQUEST 
 
 they fluttered in the water-leader in the early sunshine. Then 
 he hurried through the dewy grass, close to the house, and 
 watched from behind the lilac-bush until he heard the glass 
 door open, and saw the bright figure coming toward him. 
 
 Then they wandered through the woods, and over the hills 
 which lay beyond. They talked about everything in sight; 
 the trees, the plants, and the dunes. Johannes had a strange, 
 giddy sensation as he walked beside her. Sometimes he felt 
 light enough again to fly through the air. But he never could. 
 He told the story of the flowers and of the animals, as Winde- 
 kind had given it to him. But he forgot how he had learned 
 it, and Windekind existed no more for him — only Robinetta. 
 He was happy when she laughed with him, and he saw the 
 friendship in her eyes; and he spoke to her as he had formerly 
 done to his little dog — saying whatever came into his head, 
 without hesitation or shyness. When he did not see her he 
 spent the hours in thinking of her; and each thing he did was 
 with the question whether Robinetta would find it good or 
 beautiful. 
 
 And she, herself, appeared always so pleased to see him. 
 She would smile and hasten her steps. She had told him that 
 she would rather walk with him than with any one else. 
 
 "But, Johannes," she once asked, "how do you know all 
 these things ^ How do you know what the May-bugs think, 
 what the thrushes sing, and how it looks in a rabbit-hole, or 
 on the bottom of the water .? " 
 
 "They have told me," answered Johannes, "and I have 
 myself been in a rabbit-hole and on the bottom of the water." 
 
 Robinetta knitted her delicate eyebrows and looked at him 
 half mockingly. But his face was full of truth. 
 
 They were sitting under lilac trees, from which hung thick, 
 purple clusters. Before them lay the pond with its reeds and 
 duck-weed. They saw the black beetles gliding in circles 
 over the surface, and little red spiders busily darting up and 
 down. It swarmed with life and movement. Johannes, 
 absorbed in remembrances, gazed into the depths, and said:
 
 THEQUEST 67 
 
 "I went down there once. I slipped down a reed to the 
 very bottom. It is all covered with fallen leaves which make 
 it so soft and smooth. It is always twilight there — a green 
 twilight — for the light falls through the green duck-weed. 
 And over my head I saw the long, white rootlets hanging down. 
 
 "The newts, which are very inquisitive, came swimming 
 about me. It gives a strange feeling to have such great crea- 
 tures swimming above one; and I could not see far in front, 
 for it was dark there — yet green, too. And in that darkness 
 the living things appeared like black shadows. There were 
 paddle-footed water-beetles, and flat mussels, and sometimes, 
 too, a little fish. I went a long way — hours away, I believe 
 — and in the middle was a great forest of water-plants, where 
 snails were creeping, and water-spiders were weaving their 
 glistening nests. Minnows darted in and out, and sometimes 
 they stayed with open mouths and quivering fins to look at 
 me, they were so amazed. There I made the acquaintance 
 of an eel whose tail I had the misfortune to step on. He told 
 me about his travels. He had been as far as the sea, he said. 
 Because of this, he had been made King of the Pond — for 
 no one else had been so far. He always lay in the mud, 
 sleeping, except when others brought him something to eat. 
 He was a frightful eater. That was because he was a king. 
 They prefer a fat king — one that is portly and dignified. 
 Oh, it was splendid in that pond!" 
 
 "Then why can you not go there again — now ?" 
 
 "Now ?" asked Johannes, looking at her with great, ponder- 
 ing eyes. "Now? I can never go again. I should be 
 drowned. But there is no need of it. I would rather be 
 here by the lilacs, with you." 
 
 Robinetta shook her little blonde head wonderingly, and 
 stroked Johannes' hair. Then she looked at her robin, which 
 seemed to be finding all kinds of tid-bits at the margin of the 
 pond. Just then it looked up, and kept watching the two 
 with its bright little eyes. 
 
 "Do you understand anything about it, Birdling?"
 
 68 THEOUEST 
 
 The bird gave a knowing glance, and then went on with its 
 hunting and pecking. 
 
 "Tell me something more, Johannes, of what you have 
 
 >» 
 seen. 
 
 Johannes gladly did so, and Robinetta listened attentively, 
 believing all he said. 
 
 " But what is to prevent all that, noiu? Why can you not go 
 again with me to all those places ? I should love to go." 
 
 Johannes tried his best to remember, but a sunny haze 
 obscured the dim distance over which he had passed. He 
 could not exactly tell how he had lost his former happiness. 
 
 "I do not quite know — you must not ask about it. A 
 silly little creature spoiled it all. But now it is all right again; 
 still better than before." 
 
 The perfume of the lilacs settled gently down upon them; 
 and the humming of the insects over the water, and the 
 peaceful sunshine, filled them with a sweet drowsiness; until 
 a shrill bell at the house began to ring, and Robinetta sped 
 away. 
 
 That evening, when Johannes was in his little room, looking 
 at the moon-shadows cast by the ivy leaves which covered the 
 window-panes — there seemed to be a tapping on the glass. 
 Johannes thought it was an ivy leaf fluttering in the night 
 wind. Yet it tapped so plainly — always three taps at a 
 time — that Johannes very gently opened the window and 
 cautiously looked about. The ivy against the house gleamed 
 in the blue light. Below, lay a dim world full of mystery. 
 There were caverns and openings into which the moonlight 
 cast little blue flecks — making the darkness still deeper. 
 
 After Johannes had been gazing a long time into this won- 
 derful world of shadows, he saw the form of a mannikin close 
 by the window, half hidden by a large ivy leaf. He recognized 
 Wistik instantly, by his great, wonder-struck eyes under the 
 uplifted brows. A tiny moonbeam just touched the tip of 
 Wistik's long nose. 
 
 "Have you forgotten me, Johannes? Why are you not
 
 THEQUEST 69 
 
 thinking about it now ? It is the right time. Did you ask 
 Robin Redbreast the way?" 
 
 "Ah, Wistik, why should I ask ? I have everything I could 
 wish for. I have Robinetta." 
 
 "But that will not last long. And you can be still happier 
 — Robinetta, too. Must the little key stay where it is, then ? 
 Only think how grand it would be if you both should find the 
 book! Ask Robin Redbreast about it. I will help you 
 whenever I can." 
 
 "At least, I can ask about it," said Johannes. 
 
 Wistik nodded, and scrambled nimbly down the vines. 
 
 Before he went to bed, Johannes stayed a long time — look- 
 ing at the dark shadows and the shining ivy leaves. 
 
 The next day he asked the redbreast if he knew the way to 
 the golden chest. Robinetta listened, in astonishment. Jo- 
 hannes saw the robin nod, and peep askance at Robinetta. 
 
 "Not here, not here!" chirped the litttle bird. 
 
 "What do you mean, Johannes?" asked Robinetta. 
 
 "Do you not know about it, Robinetta, and where to find 
 it? Are you not waiting for the little gold key?" 
 
 "No! no! Tell me — what is that?" 
 
 Johannes told her what he knew about the book. 
 
 "And I have the little key. I thought you had the golden 
 chest. Is it not so. Birdie?" 
 
 But the bird feigned not to hear, and fluttered about among 
 the fresh, bright beech leaves. 
 
 They were resting against a slope on which small beech and 
 spruce trees were growing. A narrow green path ran slantingly 
 by, and they sat at the border of it, on thick, dark-green moss. 
 They could look over the tops of the lowest saplings upon a 
 sea of green foliage billowing in sun and shade. 
 
 "I do believe, Johannes," said Robinetta, after a little, 
 "that I can find what you are looking for. But what do you 
 mean about the little key ? How did you come by it ?" 
 
 "Why! How did I ? How was it ?" murmured Johannes, 
 gazing far away over the green expanse.
 
 70 THEQUEST 
 
 Suddenly, as though fledged in the sunny sky, two white 
 butterflies met his sight. They whirled about with uncertain 
 capricious flight — fluttering and twinkling in the sunlight. 
 Yet they came closer. 
 
 "Windekind! Windekind!" whispered Johannes, suddenly 
 remembering. 
 
 "Who is that? Who is Windekind.?" asked Robinetta. 
 
 The redbreast flew up, chattering, and the daisies in the 
 grass before him seemed suddenly to be staring at Johannes 
 in great alarm with their white, wide-open eyes. 
 
 "Did he give you the little key?" continued the girl. Jo- 
 hannes nodded, in silence; but she wanted to know more. 
 
 "Who was it ? Did he teach you all those things ? Where 
 is he ?" 
 
 "He is not any more. It is Robinetta now — no one but 
 Robinetta. Robinetta alone!" He clasped her arm, and 
 pressed his little head against it. 
 
 "Silly boy!" she said, laughing. "I will find the book for 
 you — I know where it is." 
 
 "But then I must go and get the key, and it is far away." 
 
 "No, no, you need not. I will find it without a key — 
 to-morrow — I promise you." 
 
 On their way home, the little butterflies flitted back and 
 forth in front of them. 
 
 Johannes dreamed of his father that night — of Robinetta, 
 and of many others. They were all good friends, and they 
 stood near looking at him cordially, and trustfully. Yet later, 
 their faces changed. They grew cold and ironical. He 
 looked anxiously around; on all sides were fierce, hostile faces. 
 He felt a nameless distress, and waked up weeping.
 
 IX 
 
 Johannes had already sat a long while, waiting. The air 
 was chilly, and great clouds were drifting close above the 
 earth in endless, majestic succession. They spread out 
 sombre, wide-waving mantles, and reared their haughty heads 
 toward the clear light that shone above them. Sunlight and 
 shadow chased each other swiftly over the trees, like flickering 
 flames. Johannes was in an anxious state of mind, thinking 
 about the book; not believing that he should really find it that 
 day. Between the clouds — much higher — awfully high, 
 he saw an expanse of clear blue sky; and upon it, stretched out 
 in motionless calm, were delicate, white, plume-like clouds. 
 
 "It ought be like that," he thought. "So high, so bright, 
 so still!" 
 
 Then came Robinetta. The robin was not with her. 
 
 "It is all right, Johannes," she cried out. "You may come 
 and see the book." 
 
 "Where is Robin Redbreast?" said Johannes, mistrust- 
 fully. 
 
 "He did not come. But we are not going for a walk." 
 
 Then he went with her, thinking all the time to himself: 
 
 "It cannot be! Not this way! — it must be entirely dif- 
 ferent!" 
 
 Yet he followed the sunny, blonde hair that lighted his way. 
 
 Alas! things went sadly now with little Johannes. I could 
 wish that his story ended here. Did you ever have a splendid 
 dream of a magical garden where the flowers and animals all 
 loved you and talked to you ? And did the idea come to you 
 then, that you might wake up soon, and all that happiness be 
 lost ? Then you vainly try to hold the dream — and not to 
 wake to the cold light of day. That was the way Johannes 
 felt when he went with Robinetta. 
 
 He went into the house — and down a passage that echoed 
 
 71
 
 72 THEQUEST 
 
 with his footsteps. He breathed the air of clothes and food; 
 he thought of the long days when he had had to stay indoors, of 
 his school-tasks, and of all that had been sombre and cold in 
 his life. 
 
 He entered a room with people in it — how many he did 
 not see. They were talking together, yet when he came they 
 ceased to speak. He noticed the carpet; it had big, impossible 
 flowers in glaring colors. They were as strange and deformed 
 as those of the hangings in his bedroom at home. 
 
 "Well, is this the gardener's little boy?" said a voice right 
 in front of him. "Come here, my young friend; you need not 
 be afraid." 
 
 And another voice sounded suddenly, close beside him: 
 "Well, Robbi, a pretty little playmate you have there!" 
 
 What did all this mean ? The deep wrinkles came again 
 above the child's dark eyes, and Johannes looked around in 
 perplexity. 
 
 A man in black clothes sat near — looking at him with cold, 
 grey eyes. 
 
 "And so you wish to make acquaintance with the Book of 
 Books! It amazes me that your father, whom I know to be 
 a devout man, has not already given it to you." 
 
 "You do not know my father — he is far away." 
 
 "Is that so? Well, it is all the same. Look here, my 
 young friend! Read a great deal in this. Upon your path 
 in life it will ..." 
 
 But Johannes had already recognized the book. It could 
 not possibly come to him in this way! No! he could not have 
 it so. He shook his head. 
 
 "No, no! This is not what I mean. This I know. This 
 is not it." 
 
 He heard sounds of surprise, and felt the looks which 
 were fastened on him from all sides. 
 
 "What! What do you mean, child?" 
 
 "I know this book; it is the Book of Human Beings. But 
 there is not enough in it; if there were there would be rest
 
 THE QUEST 73 
 
 among men — and peace. And there is none. I mean some- 
 thing else about which no one can doubt who sees it — wherein 
 is told why everything is as it is — precisely and plainly." 
 
 "How is that possible? Where did the boy get that 
 notion ?" 
 
 "Who taught you that, my young friend ?" 
 
 "I believe you have been reading depraved books, boy, and 
 are repeating the words!" 
 
 Thus rang the various voices. Johannes felt his cheeks 
 burning, and he began to feel dizzy. The room spun round, 
 and the huge flowers on the carpet floated up and down. 
 Where was the little mouse which had warned him so faith- 
 fully that day at school I He needed him now. 
 
 "I am not repeating it out of books, and he who taught me 
 is worth more than all of you together. I know the language 
 of flowers, and of animals — I am their intimate friend. I 
 know, too, what human beings are, and how they live, I know 
 all the secrets of fairies and of goblins, for they love me more 
 than human beings do." 
 
 Oh, Mousiel Mousie! 
 
 Johannes heard coughing and laughing, around and behind 
 him. It all rang and rasped in his ears. 
 
 "He seems to have been reading Andersen." 
 
 "He is not quite right in his head." 
 
 The man in front of him said: 
 
 "If you know Andersen, little man, you ought to have more 
 respect for God and His Word." "God!" He knew that 
 word, and he thought about Windekind's lesson. 
 
 "I have no respect for God. God is a big oil-lamp, which 
 draws thousands to wreck and ruin." 
 
 No laughing now, but a serious silence in which the horror 
 and consternation were palpable. Johannes felt even in his 
 back the piercing looks. It was like his dream of the night 
 before. 
 
 The man in black stood up and took him by the arm. That 
 hurt, and almost broke his heart.
 
 74 THEQUEST 
 
 "Listen, boy! I do not know whether you are fooHsh or 
 deeply depraved, but I will not suffer such godlessness here. 
 Go away and never come into my sight again, wretched boy! 
 I shall ask about you, but never again set foot in this house. 
 Do you understand?" 
 
 Everybody looked at him coldly and unkindly — as in his 
 dream the night before. Johannes looked around him in 
 distress. 
 
 "Robinetta! Where is Robinetta.?" 
 
 "Well, indeed! Corrupt my child? If you ever speak to 
 her again, look out!" 
 
 "No, let me go to her! I will not leave her. Robinetta!" 
 cried Johannes. 
 
 But she sat in a corner, frightened, and did not look 
 up. 
 
 "Out, you rascal! Do you hear? Take care, if you have 
 the boldness to come back again." 
 
 The painful grip led him through the sounding corridor — 
 the glass door rattled, and Johannes stood outside, under the 
 dark, lowering clouds. 
 
 He did not cry now, but gazed quietly out in front of him 
 as he slowly walked on. The sorrowful wrinkles were deeper 
 above his eyes, and they stayed there. 
 
 The little redbreast sat in a linden hedge and peered at him. 
 He stood still and silently returned the look. But there was 
 no trust now in the timid, peeping little eyes; and when he 
 took a step nearer, the quick little creature whirred away 
 from him. 
 
 "Away, away! A human being!" chirped the sparrows, 
 sitting together in the garden path. And they darted away 
 in all directions. 
 
 The open flowers did not smile, but looked serious and in- 
 different; as they do with every stranger. 
 
 Johannes did not heed these signs, but was thinking of what 
 the cruel men had done to him. He felt as if his inmost being 
 had been violated by a hard, cold touch. "They shall believe
 
 THEQUEST 75 
 
 me!" thought he. "I will get my little key and show it to 
 them." 
 
 "Johannes! Johannes!" called a light, little voice. There 
 was a bird's nest in a holly tree, and Wistik's big eyes peeped 
 over the brim of it. "Where are you bound for.?" 
 
 "It is all your fault, Wistik," said Johannes. "Let me 
 alone." 
 
 "How did you come to talk about it to human beings? 
 They do not understand. Why do you tell them these things ? 
 It is very stupid of you." 
 
 "They laughed at me, and hurt me. They are miserable 
 creatures. I hate them!" 
 
 "No, Johannes, you love them." 
 
 "No! No!" 
 
 "If you did not, you would not mind it so much that they 
 are not like yourself; and it would not matter what they said. 
 You must concern yourself less about human beings," 
 
 "I want my key. I want to show it to them." 
 
 "You must not do that; they would not believe you even if 
 you did. What would be the use of it ?" 
 
 "I want my little key — under the rose-bush. Do you 
 know how to find it?" 
 
 "Yes, indeed! Near the pond, is it not ? Yes, I know." 
 
 "Then take me to it, Wistik." 
 
 Wistik climbed up to Johannes' shoulder, and pointed out 
 the way. They walked the whole day long. The wind blew, 
 and now and then showers fell; but at evening the clouds 
 ceased driving, and lengthened themselves out into long bands 
 of gray and gold. 
 
 When they came to Johannes' own dunes, he felt deeply 
 moved, and he whispered again and again: "Windekind! 
 Windekind!" 
 
 There was the rabbit-hole, and the slope against which he 
 had once slept. The grey reindeer-moss was tender and 
 moist, and did not crackle beneath his feet. The roses 
 were withered, and the yellow primroses with their faint,
 
 76 THEQUEST 
 
 languid fragrance held up their cups by hundreds. Higher 
 still rose the tall, proud torch-plants, with their thick, velvety 
 leaves. 
 
 Johannes tried to trace the delicate, brownish leaves of the 
 w^ild-rose. 
 
 "Where is it, Wistik ? I do not see it." 
 
 "I know nothing about it," said Wistik. "You hid the 
 key — I didn't." 
 
 The field where the rose had blossomed was full of 
 primroses, staring vacantly. Johannes questioned them, and 
 also the torch-plants. They w^ere much too proud, however, 
 for their tall flower-clusters reached far up above him; so he 
 asked the small, tri-colored violets on the sandy ground. 
 
 But no one knew anything of the wild-rose. They all were 
 newly-come flowers — even the arrogant torch-plant, tall 
 though it was. 
 
 "Oh! where is it ? Where is it .?" 
 
 "Have you, too, served me a trick?" cried Wistik. "I 
 expected it — that is always the way with human beings!" 
 
 He slipped down from Johannes' shoulder, and ran away 
 into the tall grass. 
 
 Johannes looked hopelessly around. There stood a small 
 rose-bush. 
 
 "Where is the big rose ?" asked Johannes, "the big one that 
 used to stand here?" 
 
 "We do not speak to human beings," said the little bush. 
 
 That was the last sound he heard. Every living thing 
 kept silence. Only, the reeds rustled in the soft, evening 
 wind. 
 
 "Am I a human being?" thought Johannes. "No, that 
 cannot — cannot be. I will not be a human being. I hate 
 human beings." 
 
 He was tired and faint-hearted, and went to the border of 
 the little field to lie down upon the soft, grey moss with its 
 humid, heavy fragrance. 
 
 "I cannot turn back now, nor ever see Robinetta again.
 
 THEQUEST 77 
 
 Shall I not die without her ? Shall I keep on living, and be a 
 man — a man like those who laughed at me?" 
 
 Then, all at once, he saw again the two white butterflies 
 that flew up to him from the way of the setting sun. In 
 suspense, he followed their flight. Would they show him the 
 way .? They hovered above his head — then floated apart to 
 return again — whirling about in fickle play. Little by little 
 they left the sun, and finally fluttered beyond the border of 
 the dunes — away to the woods. There, only the highest tips 
 were still touched by the evening glow that shone out red 
 and vivid from under the long files of sombre clouds. 
 
 Johannes followed the butterflies. But when they had 
 flown above the nearest trees, he saw a dark shadow swoop 
 toward them in noiseless flight, and then hover over them. 
 It pursued and overtook them. The next moment they had 
 vanished. The black shadow darted swiftly up to him, and 
 he covered his face with his hands, in terror. 
 
 "Well, little friend, why do you sit here, crying?" rang a 
 sharp, taunting voice close beside him. 
 
 Johannes had seen a huge bat coming toward him, but when 
 he looked up, a swarthy mannikin, not much taller than him- 
 self, was standing on the dunes. It had a great head, with 
 big ears, that stood out — dark — against the bright evening 
 sky, and a lean little body with slim legs. Of his face Jo- 
 hannes could see only the small, glittering eyes. 
 
 "Have you lost anything, little fellow? If so, I will help 
 you seek it," said he. But Johannes silently shook his head. 
 
 "Look! Would you like these?" he began again, opening 
 his hand. Johannes saw there something white, that from 
 time to time barely stirred. It was the two white butterflies 
 ■ — dead — with the torn and broken little wings still quivering. 
 Johannes shivered, as though some one had blown on the 
 back of his neck, and he looked up in alarm at the strange 
 being. 
 
 "Who are you ?" he asked. 
 
 "Would you like to know my name, Chappie? Well, just
 
 78 THEOUEST 
 
 call me Pluizer * — simply Pluizer. I have still prettier 
 names, but that you do not yet understand." 
 
 "Are you a human being?" 
 
 "Better yet! Still, I have arms and legs and a head — 
 just see what a head! And yet the boy asks if I'm a human 
 being! Well, Johannes, Johannes!" And the mannikin 
 laughed with a shrill, piercing sound. 
 
 "How do you know who I am ?" asked Johannes. 
 
 "Oh, that is a trifle for me! I know a great deal more. 
 I know where you came from, and what you came here to do. 
 I know an astonishing Kt — almost everything." 
 
 "Ah! Mr. Pluizer . . ." 
 
 "Pluizer — Pluizer. No ceremony!" 
 
 "Do you know then? ..." But Johannes suddenly 
 stopped. "He is a human being," thought he. 
 
 "About your little key, do you mean ?" asked the mannikin. 
 "Yes, indeed I do." 
 
 "But I did not think human beings could know anything 
 about that." 
 
 "Silly boy! And Wistik has babbled to so many about it!" 
 
 "Do you know Wistik, too ?" 
 
 "Oh, yes — one of my best friends, and I have a great many 
 of them. But I know about the little key, without the help of 
 Wistik. I know a great deal more than Wistik. Wistik is a 
 good enough fellow, but stupid — uncommonly stupid. Not 
 I — far from it!" And Pluizer tapped his big head with his 
 lean little hand in a very pert way. 
 
 "Do you know, Johannes," he continued, "a great defect in 
 Wistik ? But you never must tell him, for he would be very 
 
 "Well, what is it?" asked Johannes. 
 
 "He does not exist. That is a great shortcoming, but he 
 will not admit it. And he says of me that I do not exist — 
 but that is a lie. / not exist ? The wiscl'icj — I do!" 
 
 And Pluizer, thrusting the little butterflies into his pocket, 
 suddenly threw himself over, and stood on his head in front of 
 
 * See note, page 520.
 
 THEQUEST 79 
 
 Johannes. Then he made a very ugly grimace, and stuck out 
 his long tongue. Johannes, who did not yet feel quite at his 
 ease alone with this remarkable creature, at the close of the 
 day, in the lonely dunes, was quaking now, with fear. 
 
 "This is a most charming way of seeing the world," said 
 Pluizer, still standing on his head. "If you like, I will teach 
 you to do it. Everything looks much clearer and more life- 
 like." 
 
 And he sprawled his spindle legs out in the air, and whirled 
 around on his hands. As the red afterglow fell upon his 
 inverted face, Johannes thought it frightful; the small eyes 
 blinked in the light, and showed the whites on the wrong 
 side. 
 
 "You see, this way the clouds look like the floor, and the 
 ground the cover, of the world. You can maintain that as 
 well as the contrary. There is no above nor below, however. 
 Those clouds would make a fine promenade." 
 
 Johannes looked at the long clouds. He thought they 
 appeared like a plowed field, with blood welling up from 
 the red furrows. And over the sea the splendor was streaming 
 from the gates of that grotto in the clouds. 
 
 "Could one get there, and go in .?" he asked. 
 
 "Nonsense!" said Pluizer, landing suddenly on his feet 
 again, to the great relief of Johannes. "Nonsense! If you 
 were there, it would be precisely as it is here — and the beauty 
 of it would then appear still a little farther off. In those 
 beautiful clouds there, it is misty, grizzly, and cold." 
 
 "I do not believe you," said Johannes. "Now I can very 
 well see that you are a human being." 
 
 "Oh, come! Not believe me, dear boy, because I am a 
 human being! And what particular thing do you take your- 
 self for ?" 
 
 "Oh, Pluizer! Am I too a human being?" 
 
 "What did you suppose? An elf? Elves do not fall in 
 love." And Pluizer suddenly dropped down exactly in front 
 of Johannes — his legs crossed under him — grinning straight
 
 8o THEQUEST 
 
 into his face. Johannes felt indescribably distressed and per- 
 plexed under this scrutiny, and would have liked to hide, or 
 make himself invisible. Still he could not even turn his eyes 
 away. 
 
 "Only human beings fall in love, Johannes. Do you hear ? 
 And that is good; otherwise before lono; there would be no 
 more of them. And you are in love as well as the best of them, 
 although you are still so young. Who are you thinking about, 
 this instant V 
 
 "Robinetta!" whispered Johannes, barely loud enough to 
 be heard. 
 
 "Whom do you long for most?" 
 
 "Robinetta!" 
 
 "Who is the one without whom you think you cannot live ?" 
 
 Johannes' lips moved silently: "Robinetta!" 
 
 "Now, then, you silly fellow," sneered Pluizer, "how can 
 you fancy yourself to be an elf.'' Elves do not fall in love with 
 the children of men." 
 
 "But it was Windekind," stammered Johannes, in his 
 embarrassment. At that, Pluizer looked terribly angry, and 
 he seized Johannes by the ears with his bony little hands. 
 
 "What stuff is this? Would you frighten me with that 
 dunce ? He is sillier than Wistik — far more silly. He does 
 not know it, though. And what is more, he does not exist at 
 all, and never has existed. I alone exist, do you understand ? 
 If you do not believe me, I will make you feel that I Jo exist." 
 
 And he shook poor Johannes by the ears — hard. The 
 latter cried out: "But I have known him so long, and I have 
 traveled so far with him!" 
 
 "You have dreamed it, I say. Where, then, are the rose- 
 bush and the little key? Hey! — But you are not dreaming 
 now! Do you feel that?" 
 
 "Auch!" cried Johannes; for Pluizer was tweaking his ears. 
 
 It had grown dark, and the bats were flying with shrill 
 squeakings close to their heads. The air was black and 
 heavy — not a leaf stirred in the woods.
 
 THE QUEST 8i 
 
 "May I go home?" begged Johannes. "To my father?" 
 
 "Your father ? What do you want of him ?" asked Pluizer. 
 "That person would give you a warm reception after your 
 long absence!" 
 
 "I want to go home," said Johannes; and he thought of the 
 hving-room with the bright lamp-Hght, where he had so often 
 sat beside his father, hstening to the scratching of his pen. It 
 was cozy there, and peaceful. 
 
 "Yes, but you ought not to have gone away, and stayed away 
 — all for the sake of that madcap who has no existence. It is 
 too late now. And if nothing turns up to prevent it, I will 
 take care of you. Whether I do it, or your father does it, 
 is precisely the same thing. Such a father! That is only 
 imagination, however. Did you make your own selection ? 
 Do you think no one else so good — so clever ? I am just as 
 good, and much more clever." 
 
 Johannes had no heart for an answer; he closed his eyes, 
 and nodded slightly. 
 
 "And," continued the mannikin, "you must not look for 
 anything further from that Robinetta." 
 
 He laid his hands upon Johannes' shoulders, and chattered 
 close to his ear. "That child thought you just as much a fool 
 as the others did. Did you not see that she stayed in the 
 corner, and said not a word when they all laughed at you ? 
 She is no better than the others. She thought you a nice 
 little boy, and she played with you — just as she would have 
 played with a May-bug. She cannot have cared about your 
 going away. And she knows nothing about that book. But 
 I do — I know where it is, and I will help you find it. I know 
 nearly everything." 
 
 And Johannes began to believe him. 
 
 "Are you going with me ? Will you search for it with me ?" 
 
 "I am so tired," said Johannes. "Let me go to sleep 
 somewhere." 
 
 "I care nothing for sleep," said Pluizer. "I am too lively 
 for that. A person ought always to be looking and thinking.
 
 82 THEQUEST 
 
 But I will leave you in peace for a little while — till morning 
 comes." 
 
 Then he put on the friendliest face he could. Johannes 
 looked straight into the glittering little eyes until he could see 
 nothing else. His head grew heavy — he leaned against the 
 mossy slope. The little eyes seemed to get farther and farther 
 away until they were shining stars in the darkening sky. He 
 thought he heard the sound of distant voices, as if the earth 
 were moving away from him — and then he ceased to think 
 at all.
 
 Even before he was fully awake he had a vague idea that 
 something unusual had occurred while he slept. Still, he was 
 not curious to know what it was, nor to look about him. He 
 would he were lapped again in the dream which, like a re- 
 luctant mist, was slowly drifting away. Robinetta had come 
 to him again in the dream, and stroked his hair in the old way; 
 and he had seen his father once more, and Presto, in the garden 
 with the pond. 
 
 "Auch! That hurt. Who did that?" Johannes opened 
 his eyes, and saw, in the grey dawn, close beside him, a small 
 being who had been pulling his hair. He was lying in a bed, 
 and the light was dim and wavering — as in a room. 
 
 But the face that bent over him brought back, at once, all 
 the misery and gloom of the day before. It was Pluizer's 
 face — less like a hobgoblin, and more human — but just as 
 ugly and frightful as ever. 
 
 "Oh, let me dream!" he murmured. 
 
 But Pluizer shook him. "Are you mad, you lazy boy? 
 Dreams are foolish, and keep one from getting on. A human 
 being must work and think and seek. That is what you are 
 human for." 
 
 "I do not want to be a human being. I want to dream." 
 
 "Whether you wish to or not — you must. You are in my 
 charge now, and you are going to act, and seek, in my com- 
 pany. With me alone can you find what you desire, and I 
 shall not leave you until we have found it." 
 
 Johannes felt a vague terror. Yet a superior power seemed 
 to press and coerce him. Unresistingly, he resigned himself. 
 
 Gone were fields and flowers and trees. He was in a small, 
 dimly-lighted room. Outside, as far as he could see, were 
 houses and houses — dark and dingy — in long, monotonous 
 rows. 
 
 83
 
 84 THEOUEST 
 
 Smoke in thick folds was rising everywhere, and it swept, 
 like a murky fog, through the streets below. And along 
 those streets the people hurried in confusion, like great black 
 busy ants. A dull, confused, continuous roar ascended from 
 this throng. 
 
 "Look, Johannes!" said Pluizer. "Now is not that a pretty 
 sight ? Those are human beings, and all those houses, as far as 
 you can see — still farther than that belfry in the blue dis- 
 tance — are full of people, from top to bottom. Is not that 
 remarkable? That is rather different from an ant-hill!" 
 
 Johannes listened with shrinking curiosity, as if some huge, 
 horrible monster were being shown him. He seemed to be 
 standing on the back of that monster, and to see the black 
 blood streaming through the swollen arteries, and the dark 
 breath ascending from a hundred nostrils. And the ominous 
 growling of that awful voice filled him with fears. 
 
 "Look! How fast these people go, Johannes!" continued 
 Pluizer. "You can see, can you not, that they are all in a 
 hurry, and hunting for something ? But it is droll that no 
 one knows precisely what it is. After they have been seeking 
 a little while, they come face to face with some one. His name 
 is Hein." 
 
 "Who is that?" asked Johannes. 
 
 "Oh, a good friend of mine. I will introduce you to him, 
 without fail. Now this Hein asks: 'Are you looking for me ?' 
 At that, most of them usually say: *Oh, no! Not you.' 
 Then Hein remarks: 'But there is nothing to be found save 
 me.' So they have to content themselves with Hein." 
 
 Johannes perceived that he spoke of death. 
 
 "Is that always the way — always ?" 
 
 "To be sure it is — always. But yet, day after day, a new 
 crowd gathers, and they begin their search not knowing for 
 what — seeking, seeking, until at last they find Hein. So it 
 has been for a pretty long while, and so it will continue 
 to be." 
 
 "Shall I, too, find nothing else, Pluizer? Nothing but . . ."
 
 THEQUEST 85 
 
 "Yes, Hein you will surely find, some day. Rut that does 
 not matter. Only seek — always be seeking. " 
 
 "But the little book, Pluizer ? You might let me find the 
 book." 
 
 "Well, who knows! I have not forbidden it. We must 
 seek — seek. We know, at least, what we are looking for. 
 Wistik taught us that. Others there are who try all their 
 lives to find out what they are really seeking. They are the 
 philosophers, Johannes. But when Hein comes, it is all up 
 with their search as well." 
 
 "That is frightful, Pluizer!" 
 
 "Oh, no! Indeed it is not. Hein is very good-hearted, 
 but he is misunderstood." 
 
 Some one toiled up the stairs outside the chamber door — 
 Clump! clump! on the wooden stairs. 
 
 Clump! clump! Nearer and nearer. Then some one 
 rapped at the door, and it sounded like ice tapping on wood. 
 
 A tall man entered. He had deep-set eyes, and long, lean 
 hands. A cold draft swept through the little room. 
 
 "Well, well!" said Pluizer. "We were just speaking of 
 you. Take a seat. How goes it with you ?" 
 
 "Busy, busy!" said the tall man, wiping the cold moisture 
 from his white, bony forehead. 
 
 Stiff with fright, Johannes gazed into the deep-set eyes 
 which were fixed upon him. They were very deep and dark, 
 but not cruel — not threatening. After a few moments he 
 breathed more freely, and his heart beat less rapidly. 
 
 "This is Johannes," said Pluizer. "He has heard of a 
 certain book which tells why everything is as it is; and we are 
 going together to find that book, are we not ?" Then Pluizer 
 laughed, significantly. 
 
 "Is that so? Well, that is good," said Death kindly, nod- 
 ding to Johannes. 
 
 "He is afraid he will not find it, but I tell him to seek first, 
 diligently." 
 
 "Certainly," said Death. "It is best to seek diligently."
 
 86 THEQUEST 
 
 "He thought that you were so horrible! You see, do you 
 not, Johannes, that you made a mistake?" 
 
 "Ah, yes," said Death, most kindly. "They speak very ill 
 of me. My outward appearance is not prepossessing, but I 
 mean well." 
 
 He smiled faintly, like one whose mind was full of more 
 serious matters than those of which he spoke. Then he 
 turned his sombre eyes away from Johannes, and they wan- 
 dered pensively toward the great town. 
 
 It was a long time before Johannes ventured to speak. At 
 last, he said softly: 
 
 "Are you going to take me with you, now?" 
 
 "What do you mean, my child?" said Death, roused from 
 his meditations. "No, not now. You must grow up and 
 become a good man." 
 
 "I will not be a man — like the others." 
 
 "Come, come!" said Death. "There is no help for it." 
 
 It was clear that this was an every-day phrase with him. 
 He continued: 
 
 "My friend, Pluizer, can teach you how to become a good 
 man. It can be learned in various ways, but Pluizer teaches 
 it excellently. It is something very fine and admirable to be 
 a good man. You must not scorn it, my little lad." 
 
 "Seeking, thinking, looking!" said Pluizer. 
 
 "To be sure! To be sure!" said Death; and then, to 
 Pluizer, "To whom are you going to take him?" 
 
 "To Doctor Cijfer, my old pupil." 
 
 "Ah, yes. He is a good pupil. He is a very fine example 
 of a man — almost perfect in his way." 
 
 "Shall I see Robinetta again ?" asked Johannes, trembling. 
 
 "What does the boy mean ?" asked Death. 
 
 "Oh, he was love-struck, and yet fancied himself to be an 
 elf! He, he, he!" laughed Pluizer, maliciously. 
 
 "No, my dear child, that will never do," said Death. "You 
 will forget such things with Doctor Cijfer. He who seeks what 
 you are seeking must forget all other things. All or nothing."
 
 THEQUEST 87 
 
 "I shall make a doughty man of him. I shall just let him 
 sec what love really is, and then he will have nothing at all to 
 do with it." 
 
 And Pluizer laughed gaily. Death again fixed his black 
 eyes upon poor Johannes, who found it hard to keep from 
 sobbing; for he felt ashamed in the presence of Death. 
 
 Suddenly Death stood up, "I must away," said he. "I am 
 wasting my time. There is much to be done. Good-by, 
 Johannes. We are sure to see each other again. You must 
 not be afraid of me." 
 
 "I am not afraid of you — I wish you would take me with 
 you. Oh, take me!" But Death gently motioned him back. 
 He was used to such appeals. 
 
 "No, Johannes. Go now to your task. Seek and see! 
 Ask me no more. Some day I will ask, and that will be 
 soon enough." 
 
 When he had disappeared, Pluizer behaved in a very ex- 
 traordinary manner. He sprang over chairs, tumbled about 
 the floor, climbed up the wardrobe and the mantlej)iece, and 
 performed neck-breaking tricks in the open windows. 
 
 "Well, that was Hein — my good friend Hein!" said he. 
 "Do you not think him nice? A bit plain and morose in 
 appearance; but he can be quite cheerful when he finds pleasure 
 in his Work. Sometimes, however, it bores him; for it is rather 
 monotonous." 
 
 "Who tells him, Pluizer, v>7here he is to go ?" 
 
 Pluizer leered at Johannes in a teasing, cunning way. 
 
 "Why do you ask that? He goes his own gait — he takes 
 whom he can catch," 
 
 Later, Johannes saw that it was otherwise. But he could 
 not yet know whether or not Pluizer always spoke the 
 truth. 
 
 They went out to the street, and moved v^ith the swarming 
 throng. The grimy men passed on, pell-mell — laughing 
 and chatting so gaily that Johannes could not help wondering. 
 He noticed that Pluizer nodded to many of them; but no one
 
 88 THEQUEST 
 
 returned the greeting — all were looking straight forward as 
 if they had seen nothing. 
 
 "They are going like fun now," said Pluizer, "as though 
 not a single one of them knew me. But that is only a pretext. 
 They cannot cut me when I am alone with them; and then they 
 are not so jolly." Johannes became conscious that some one 
 was following them. On looking round, he saw the tall, pale 
 figure moving among the people with great, inaudible strides. 
 Hein nodded to Johannes. 
 
 "Do the people also see him ?" asked Johannes of Pluizer. 
 
 "Yes, certainly! all of them; but they do not wish to know 
 him. Well, for the present I overlook this defiance." 
 
 The din and stir brought to Johannes a kind of stupor in 
 which he forgot his troubles. The narrow streets and the 
 high houses dividing the blue sky into straight strips — the 
 people passing to and fro beside him — the shuffling of foot- 
 steps, and the rattling of wagons, effaced the old visions and 
 the dream of that former night, as a storm disturbs the reflec- 
 tions in mirror-like water. It seemed to him that nothing 
 else existed save walls and windows and people; as if he too 
 must do the same, and run and rush in the restless, breathless 
 tumult. 
 
 Then they came to a quiet neighborhood, where stood a 
 large house with grey, gloomy windows. It looked severe 
 and uninviting. It was very quiet within, and there came to 
 Johannes a mingling of strange, pungent odors — a damp, 
 cellar-like smell being the most perceptible. In a room, full 
 of odd-looking instruments, sat a solitary man. He was sur- 
 rounded with books, and glass and copper articles — all of 
 them unfamiliar to Johannes. A stray sunbeam entered the 
 room, passed on over his head, and sparkled on the flasks 
 filled with pretty, tinted particles. The man was looking 
 intently through a copper tube, and did not look up. 
 
 As Johannes came nearer, he heard him murmur, "Wistik! 
 Wistik!" 
 
 Beside the man, on a long, black bench, lay something
 
 THEQUEST 89 
 
 white and downy. What it was Johannes could not clearly 
 see. 
 
 "Good morning, doctor!" said Pluizer. But still the doctor 
 did not look up. 
 
 Then Johannes was terrified, for the white object at which 
 he was looking so intently, began all at once to struggle con- 
 vulsively. What he had seen was the downy, white breast of 
 a little rabbit. Its head, with the twitching nostrils, was held 
 backward by pinching clamps of iron, and the four little feet 
 were tightly bound along its body. The hopeless effort to free 
 himself was soon over, and the little creature lay still again; 
 the only sign of life being the rapid movement of the blood- 
 stained throat. 
 
 Johannes looked at the round, gentle eyes — so wide open 
 with helpless anguish, and it seemed to him that he recognized 
 them. Was not this the soft little body against which he had 
 rested that first, blissful, elf-land night ? Old remembrances 
 came thronging over him. He flew to the little creature. 
 
 "W^ait, wait! Poor Bunnie, I will help you!" And he 
 hurried to untie the cords which were cutting into the tender 
 little feet. 
 
 But his hands were seized in a tight grip, and a shrill laugh 
 rang in his ears. 
 
 " What does this mean, Johannes ? Are you still so childish ? 
 What must the doctor think of you .''" 
 
 "What does the boy want? Why is he here.^" asked the 
 doctor, amazed. 
 
 "He wants to be a man, and so I brought him to you; but 
 he is still rather young and childish. This is not the way to 
 find what you are seeking, Johannes!" 
 
 "No, this is not the way," said the doctor. 
 
 "Doctor, let that rabbit loose!" 
 
 But Pluizer clutched both his hands, and squeezed them 
 painfully. 
 
 "What was our agreement, Jackanapes?" he hissed in his 
 ear. "We were to seek, were we not? We are not in the
 
 90 THEQUEST 
 
 dunes here, with Windekind, and with stupid animals. We 
 should be men — men, do you understand ? If you wish to 
 remain a child — if you are not strong enough to help me — 
 I will send you out of the way. Then you may seek — all by 
 yourself!" 
 
 Johannes believed him and said no more. He determined 
 to be strong. So he shut his eyes, that he might not see the 
 rabbit. 
 
 "Good boy!" said the doctor. "You appear somewhat 
 tender-hearted for making a beginning. It truly is rather a 
 sad sight the first time. I never behold it willingly myself, 
 and avoid it as much as possible. Yet it is indispensable; 
 and you must understand that we are men, and not animals 
 — that the welfare of mankind and of science is of more im- 
 portance than the life of a few rabbits." 
 
 "Hear!" said Pluizer. "Science and mankind." 
 
 "The man of science," continued the doctor, "stands higher 
 than all other men, and so he should overcome the little tender- 
 nesses which the normal man feels, for that great interest — 
 Science. Would you like to be such a man ? Was that your 
 vocation, my boy?" 
 
 Johannes hesitated. He did not exactly know what a 
 vocation was — no more than did the May-bug. 
 
 Said he, "I want to find the book that Wistik spoke of." 
 
 The doctor looked surprised and asked, "Wistik?" 
 
 Pluizer said quickly, " Indeed he wants to be such a man, 
 Doctor! I know he does. He seeks the highest wisdom. 
 He wishes to grasp the very essence of things." 
 
 Johannes nodded a "Yes!" So far as he understood, that 
 was his aim. 
 
 "You must be strong, then, Johannes ^ — not weak and 
 softhearted. Then I will help you. But remember; all or 
 nothing." 
 
 And with trembling fingers Johannes helped to retie the 
 loosened cords around the little feet of the rabbit.
 
 XI 
 
 "Now, we shall see," said Pluizer, "if I cannot show you just 
 as fine sights as Windekind can." 
 
 And when they had bidden the doctor good-by — promising 
 to return soon, he guided Johannes into every nook and corner 
 of the great town. He showed him how the great monster 
 lived, breathed, and fed itself; how it consumed, and again 
 renewed itself. 
 
 But he was partial to the slums and alleys, where the people 
 were packed together — where everything was gloomy and 
 grimy, and the air black and close. 
 
 He took him into one of the large buildings from which 
 Johannes had seen the smoke ascending that first day. 
 
 A deafening roar pervaded the place — everywhere a rattling, 
 clanking, pounding, and resounding. Great wheels revolved, 
 and long belts whizzed in rapid undulations. The walls and 
 floors were black, the windows broken or covered with dust. 
 The mighty chimneys rose high above the blackened building, 
 belching great columns of curling smoke. In that turmoil 
 of wheels and machinery Johannes saw numbers of pale-faced 
 men with blackened hands and clothing, silently and cease- 
 lessly working. 
 
 "Who are they?" asked Johannes. 
 
 "Wheels — more wheels," laughed Pluizer, "or human 
 beings — as you choose. What they are doing there they do, 
 day in — day out. And one can be human in that way, also 
 — after a fashion." 
 
 They went on into dirty, narrow streets, where the little 
 strip of blue sky looked only a finger's width; and even then 
 was clouded by the clothes hung out to dry. It swarmed with 
 people there. They jostled one another, shouted, laughed, 
 and sometimes sanjr. In the houses the rooms were so small, 
 so dark and damp, that Johannes hardly dared to breathe, 
 
 91
 
 92 THEQUEST 
 
 He saw ragged children creeping over the bare floors ; and 
 young girls, with disheveled hair, humming melodies to thin, 
 pale nurslings. He heard quarreling and scolding, and all the 
 faces around him were tired, dull, or indifferent. 
 
 Johannes' heart was wrung with pain. It was not akin to 
 his earlier grief — he was ashamed of that. 
 
 "Pluizer," he asked, "have these people always lived here 
 — so dreary and so wretched.? While I . . ." He dared 
 not go on. 
 
 "Certainly; and that is fortunate. Indeed, their life is not 
 so very dreary and wretched. They are inured to this, and 
 know nothing better. They are dull, careless cattle. Do 
 you see those two women there — sitting in front of their 
 door ? They look as contentedly over the foul street as you 
 used to look upon your dunes. There is no need for you to 
 cry over these people. You might as well cry about the moles 
 that never see the daylight." 
 
 Johannes did not know what to reply, nor did he know why 
 he felt so sad. 
 
 In the midst of the clamorous pushing and rushing he still 
 saw the pale, hollow-eyed man, striding with noiseless steps. 
 
 "He is a good man after all. Do you not think so?" said 
 Pluizer, "to take the people away from this ? But even here 
 they are afraid of him." 
 
 When night fell, and hundreds of lamps flickered in the 
 wind — casting long, wavering lights over the black water, 
 they passed through the silent streets. The tall old houses 
 looked tired — as if leaning against one another in sleep. 
 Most of them had closed their eyes; but here and there a win- 
 dow still sent out a faint, yellow glimmer. 
 
 Pluizer told Johannes long stories about those who dwelt 
 behind them — of the pains that were there endured, and 
 of the struggles that took place there between misery and 
 love of life. He did not spare him, but selected the gloomiest, 
 the lowest, and most trying; and grinned with enjoyment when 
 Johannes grew pale and silent at his shocking tales.
 
 THEQUEST 93 
 
 "Pluizer," asked Johannes, suddenly, "do you know any- 
 thing about the Great Light?" 
 
 He thought that that question might save him from the 
 darkness which was pressing closer and heavier upon him. 
 
 "Chatter! Windekind's chatter!" said Pluizer. "Phan- 
 toms — illusions! There are only people — and myself. 
 Do you fancy that any kind of god could take pleasure in 
 anything on this earth — such a medley as there is here to be 
 ruled over ? Moreover, such a Great Light would not leave 
 so many here — in the darkness." 
 
 "But those stars! Those stars!" cried Johannes; as if 
 expecting that visible splendor to protest for him against 
 this statement. 
 
 "The stars! Do you know, little fellow, what you are 
 chattering about .? Those lights up there are not like the lan- 
 terns you see about you here. They are all worlds — every 
 one of them much larger than this world with its thousands 
 of cities — and in the midst of them we swing like a speck of 
 dust. There is no above nor below. There are worlds on 
 all sides of us — nothing but worlds, and there is no end to 
 them." 
 
 "No, no!" cried Johannes in terror, "do not say so! I see 
 little lights on a great, dark plain above me." 
 
 "Yes, you can see nothing but little lights. If you gazed 
 up all your life, you would see nothing else than little lights 
 upon a dark plain above you. But you can, you must know 
 that the universe — in the midst of which this little clod with 
 its pitiful swarm of dotards is as nothing — shall vanish into 
 nothingness. So speak no more of 'the stars' as if they were 
 but a few dozens. It is foolishness." 
 
 Johannes was silenced. 
 
 "Come on," said Pluizer. "Now we will go to see some- 
 thing cheerful." 
 
 At intervals they were greeted by strains of music in lovely, 
 lingering waves of sound. On a dark canal stood a large 
 house, out of whose many tall windows the light was streaming
 
 94 THEQUEST 
 
 brightly. A long line of carriages stood in front of it. The 
 stamping of the horses rang with a hollow sound in the still- 
 ness of the night, and they were throwing "yeses" with their 
 heads. The light sparkled on the silver trappings of the har- 
 ness, and on the varnish of the vehicles. 
 
 Indoors, it was dazzlingly bright. Johannes stood gazing, 
 half-blinded, in the glare of hundreds of varicolored lights, of 
 mirrors and flowers. 
 
 Graceful figures glided past the windows, bowing to one 
 another, laughing, and gesturing. Far back in the room 
 moved richly dressed people, with lingering step or with rapid, 
 swaying turns. A confused sound of laughter and of cheerful 
 voices, sliding steps and rustling garments reached the street, 
 borne upon the waves of that soft, entrancing music which 
 Johannes had already heard from afar. In the street, close 
 by the windows, stood a few dark figures, whose faces only — 
 strange and dissimilar — were lighted by the splendor at which 
 they were gazing so intently. 
 
 "That is fine! That is splendid!" cried Johannes. He 
 greatly enjoyed the sight of the color and light and the many 
 flowers. "What is going on there ? May we go in V 
 
 "Really, do you think this beautiful, too ? Or perhaps you 
 would prefer a rabbit-hole! Just look at the people — laugh- 
 ing, bowing, and glittering! See how dignified and spruce the 
 men are, and how gay and smart the ladies. And how de- 
 voted they are to the dancing, as though it were the most im- 
 portant matter in the world." 
 
 Johannes thought again of the ball in the rabbit-hole, and 
 he saw a great deal that reminded him of it. But here every- 
 thing was grander and more brilliant. The young ladies in 
 their rich array seemed to him, when they lifted their long 
 white arms, and turned their heads half aside in dancing, as 
 beautiful as the elves. The servants moved around majes- 
 tically, offering delicious drinks — with respectful bows. 
 
 "How splendid! How splendid!" cried Johannes. 
 
 "Very pretty, is it not ?" said Pluizer. "But you must look
 
 THEQUEST 95 
 
 a little farther than just to the end of your nose. You see 
 nothing now, do you, but lovely, laughing faces ? Well, 
 almost all those smiles are false and affected. Those kindly 
 old ladies at the side there sit like anglers around a pond; their 
 young girls are the bait, the gentlemen are the fishes. How- 
 ever well they like to chat together, they enviously begrudge 
 one another every catch. If one of those young ladies is pleased, 
 it is because she is dressed more beautifully, or attracts more 
 attention than the others. And the pleasure of the men 
 chiefly consists in those bare arms and necks. Behind all 
 those laughing eyes and friendly lips lurks something quite 
 different. Even those apparently obsequious servants are 
 far from being respectful. If it suddenly became clear what 
 each one really thought, the party would soon break up." 
 
 And as Pluizer pointed it out to him, Johannes plainly saw 
 the affectation in faces and gestures; and the vanity, envy, and 
 weariness which peeped from behind the smiling masks, or 
 suddenly appeared as soon as they were laid aside. 
 
 "Well," said Pluizer, "they must do as they think best. 
 Such people must amuse themselves, and this is the only way 
 they know." 
 
 Johannes felt that some one was standing behind him, and 
 he looked round. It was the well-known, tall figure. The 
 pale face was whimsically lighted by the glare, so that the 
 eyes formed large, dark depressions. He murmured softly 
 to himself, and pointed with a finger into the lighted palace. 
 
 "Look!" said Pluizer. "He is making another selection." 
 
 Johannes looked where the finger pointed. He saw the old 
 lady, even as she was speaking, shut her eyes and put her 
 hand to her head, and the beautiful young girl stay her slow 
 step, and stare before her with a slight shiver. 
 
 "When .?" asked Pluizer of Death. 
 
 "That is my affair," said the latter. 
 
 "I should like to show Johannes this same company still 
 another time," said Pluizer, with a wink and a grin. "May 
 I?"
 
 96 THEQUEST 
 
 "To-night?" asked Death. 
 
 "Why not?" said Pluizer. "In that place is neither hour 
 nor time. What now is has always been, and what is to be, 
 already is." 
 
 "I cannot go with you," said Death. "I have too much to 
 do; but speak the name that we both know, and you can find 
 the way without me." 
 
 They went on — some distance — through the lonely 
 streets, where the gas-lights flickered in the night wind, and 
 the dark, cold water rippled along the sides of the canal. The 
 soft music grew fainter and fainter, and then died away in the . 
 great calm that rested upon the city. 
 
 Suddenly there rang out from on high, with full metallic 
 reverberation, a loud and festive melody. 
 
 It dropped straight down from the tall tower upon the 
 sleeping town — into the sad, overshadowed spirit of Little 
 Johannes. Surprised, he looked up. The melody of the 
 clock continued, in calm clear tones which jubilantly rose, 
 and sharply broke the deathly stillness. Those blithe notes 
 
 — that festal song — seemed strange to him in the midst of 
 still sleep and dark sorrow. 
 
 "That is the clock," said Pluizer. "It is always just as 
 jolly — year in, year out. Every hour, it sings the selfsame 
 song, with the same vim and gusto. In the night time, it 
 sounds jollier than it does in the daytime; as if the clock were 
 glad it has no need of sleep — that it can always sing just as 
 happily when thousands are weeping and suffering. But it 
 sings most merrily whenever any one is dead." 
 
 Still again the joyful sound rang out. 
 
 "One day, Johannes," continued Pluizer, "in a quiet room 
 behind such a window as that, a feeble light will be burning 
 
 — a dim and flickering light — making the shadows waver 
 on the wall. There will be no sound in the room save now 
 and then a soft, suppressed sob. A bed will be standing 
 there, with white curtains, and long shadows in the folds. In 
 that bed something will be lying — white and still. That
 
 THEQUEST 97 
 
 will have been Little Johannes. Then joyously will that 
 selfsame song break out and loudly and lustily enter the room 
 to celebrate the hour of his decease." 
 
 Separated by long intervals, twelve heavy strokes resounded 
 through the air. Johannes felt at once as if he were in a 
 dream; he no longer walked, but floated a little way above the 
 street, his hand in Pluizer's. The houses and lamp-posts 
 sped by in rapid flight. The houses stood less close together 
 now. They formed broken rows, with dark mysterious gaps 
 between, where the gas-lamps lighted pits and pools, rubbish 
 and rafters, in a capricious way. At last came a large gate- 
 way with heavy columns and a high railing. As quick as a 
 wink they were over it, and down upon some damp grass, near 
 a big heap of sand. Johannes fancied he was in a garden, 
 for he heard around them the rustling of trees. 
 
 "Now pay attention, Johannes, and then insist, if you can, 
 that I am not able to do more than Windekind." 
 
 Then Pluizer called aloud a short and doleful name which 
 made Johannes shudder. From all sides, the sound re- 
 echoed in the darkness, and the wind bore it up whistling and 
 whirling until it died away in the upper air. 
 
 Then Johannes noticed that the grass-blades reached above 
 his head, and that the small pebble which until now lay at his 
 feet was in front of his face. 
 
 Near him, Pluizer — just as small as himself — grasped 
 the stone with both hands, and, exerting all his strength, 
 turned it over. Confused cries of shrill, high-pitched little 
 voices rose up from the cleared ground. 
 
 "Hey! Who is doing that? What does that mean? 
 Blockhead!" shouted the voices. 
 
 Johannes saw black objects running hurriedly past one 
 another. He recognized the brisk black tumble-bug, the 
 shining brown earwig with his fine pinchers, big humpbacked 
 ants, and snake-like millipedes. 
 
 In the middle of them a long earth-worm pulled himself, 
 quick as lightning, back into his hole.
 
 98 THEQUEST 
 
 Pluizer tore impatiently through the raving, scolding crowd 
 up to the worm-hole. 
 
 "Hey, there! you long, naked lout! Come to daylight with 
 your pointed red nose," he cried. 
 
 "What do you want?" asked the worm, out of the 
 depths. 
 
 "You must come out because I want to go in. Do you 
 hear? You bald dirt-eater!" 
 
 The worm stretched his pointed head cautiously out of the 
 opening, felt all around with it a number of times, and then 
 slowly dragged his bare, ringed body farther toward the surface. 
 
 Pluizer looked round at the other creatures that were 
 crowding about him in their curiosity. 
 
 "One of you go before us to light the way. No, Black- 
 beetle, you are too big; and you, with the thousand feet — 
 you would make me dizzy. Hey, there, Earwig, I fancy 
 your looks! Come along, and carry the light in your pincers. 
 Bundle away, Black-beetle, and look around for a will-o'-the- 
 wisp, or bring a torch of rottenwood." 
 
 The creatures, awed by his commanding voice, obeyed 
 him. 
 
 Then they went down into the worm-hole — the earwig in 
 front with the shining wood, then Pluizer, then Johannes. 
 It was a very dark and narrow passage. Johannes saw the 
 grains of sand dimly lighted by the faint bluish flicker of the 
 torch. They looked as large as stones — half polished, and 
 rubbed to a smooth, firm wall by the body of the worm, who 
 now followed, full of curiosity. Johannes sav/ behind him its 
 pointed head — now thrust quickly out in front, and then 
 waiting for the long part behind to pull up to it. 
 
 They went in silence a long way down. When the path 
 became too steep for Johannes, Pluizer helped him. It 
 seemed as if there never would be an end; ever new sand- 
 grains, and still the earwig crept on, turning and bending 
 with the winding of the passage. At last the way widened 
 and the walls fell apart. The sand-grains were black and
 
 THEQUEST 99 
 
 wet, forming a vault above, where the water trickled in glisten- 
 ing streaks, and through which the roots of trees were stretched 
 like stiffened serpents. 
 
 Suddenly, a perpendicular wall — high and black — rose 
 up before Johannes' sight, cutting off everything in front of 
 him. The earwig turned round. 
 
 "Hey, ho! Now it is a question of getting behind that. 
 The worm knows all about it; he is at home here." 
 
 "Come, show us the way!" said Pluizer. 
 
 The worm slowly pulled its articulate body up to the black 
 wall, and touched and tested it. Johannes saw that it was of 
 wood. Here and there it was decayed into brow-nish powder. 
 In one of these places the worm bored through, and with three 
 push-and-pulls the long, supple body slipped within. 
 
 "Now you!" said Pluizer, and he shoved Johannes into the 
 little round opening. For an instant, the latter thought he 
 should be stifled in the soft, moist mold; then he felt his 
 head free, and with some trouble he w^orked his way com- 
 pletely through. A large space appeared to lie beyond. The 
 floor was hard and damp — the air thick, and intolerably 
 close. Johannes dared scarcely to breathe, and waited in 
 mute terror. 
 
 He heard Pluizer's voice. It had a hollow ring, as if in a 
 great cellar. 
 
 "Here, Johannes, follow me." 
 
 He felt the ground rise up before him to a mountain. With 
 the aid of Pluizer's hand he climbed this, in deepest darkness. 
 He seemed to be walking over a garment that gave way 
 under his tread. He stumbled over hollows and hillocks, 
 following Pluizer, who led him to a level spot where he clung 
 in place by some long stems that bent in his hands like reeds. 
 
 "Here is a good place to stop. A light!" cried Pluizer. 
 
 The dim light showed in the distance, rising and falling 
 with its bearer. The nearer it came and the more its faint 
 glow filled the space, the more terrible was Johannes' distress. 
 
 The mountain he had traveled over was long and white.
 
 100 THEQUEST 
 
 The reeds to which he was cHnging were brown, and fell 
 below in lustrous rings and waves. 
 
 He recognized the straight form of a human being; and the 
 cold level on which he stood was the forehead. 
 
 Before him, like two deep dark caverns, lay the insunken 
 eyes, and the blue light shone over the thin nose, and the 
 ashen lips opened in a rigid, dismal death-grin. 
 
 Pluizer gave a shrill laugh, that was immediately stifled 
 by the damp, wooden walls. 
 
 "Is not this a surprise, Johannes?" 
 
 The long worm came creeping on between the folds of the 
 shroud; it pushed itself cautiously up over the chin, and 
 slipped through the rigid lips into the black mouth-hole. 
 
 "This was the beauty of the ball — the one you thought 
 more lovely than an elf. Then, sweet perfume streamed 
 from her clothes and hair; then her eyes sparkled, and her lips 
 laughed. Look notu at her!" 
 
 With all his terror, there was doubt in Johannes' eyes. So 
 soon .? Just now so glorious — and already . . . ? 
 
 "Do you not believe me?" sneered Pluizer. "A half- 
 century lies between then and now. There is neither hour 
 nor time. What once was shall always be, and what is to be 
 has already been. You cannot conceive of it, but you must 
 believe it. Here all is truth — all that I show you is true — 
 true! Windekind could not say that." 
 
 And with a grin Pluizer skipped around on the dead face, 
 performing the most odious antics. He sat on an eyebrow, 
 and lifted up an eyelid by the long lashes. The eye which 
 Johannes had seen sparkle with joy was staring in the dim 
 light — a dull and wrinkled white. 
 
 "Now — forward!" cried Pluizer. "There happens to be 
 more to see." 
 
 The worm appeared, slowly crawling out of the right corner 
 of the mouth; and the frightful journey was resumed. Not 
 back again, but over new ways equally K)ng and dreary. 
 
 "Now we come to an old one," said the earth-worm, as a
 
 THEQUEST loi 
 
 black wall again shut off the way. "This has heen here a 
 long time." 
 
 It was less horrible than the former one. Johannes only 
 saw a confused heap, with discolored bones protruding. Hun- 
 dreds of worms and insects were silently busy with it. The 
 light alarmed them. 
 
 "Where do you come from? Who brings a light here? 
 We have no use for it!" 
 
 And they sped away into the folds and hollows. Yet they 
 recognized a fellow-being. 
 
 "Have you been next door?" the worms inquired. "The 
 wood is hard yet." 
 
 The first worm answered, "No!" 
 
 "He wants to keep that morsel for himself," said Pluizer 
 softly to Johannes. 
 
 They went farther. Pluizer explained things and pointed 
 out to Johannes those whom he had known. They came to 
 a misformed face, with staring, protruding eyes, and thick 
 black lips and cheeks. 
 
 "This was a stately gentleman," said he gaily. "You 
 ought to have seen him — so rich, so purse-proud and con- 
 ceited. He retains his puffed-up appearance." 
 
 And so it went on. Besides these there were meagre, 
 emaciated forms with white hair that reflected blue in the 
 feeble light; and little children with large heads and aged, 
 wizened faces. 
 
 "Look! These have grown old since they died," said 
 Pluizer. 
 
 They came to a man with a full beard, whose white teeth 
 gleamed between the drawn lips. In the middle of his fore- 
 head was a little round black hole. 
 
 "This one lent Hein a helping hand. Why not a bit more 
 patient? He would have come here just the same." 
 
 And there were still more passages — recent ones — and 
 other straight forms with rigid, grinning faces, and motionless, 
 folded hands.
 
 102 THEQUEST 
 
 "I am going no farther now," said the earwig. "I do not 
 know the way beyond this." 
 
 "Let us turn back," said the worm. 
 
 "One more, one more!" cried Pluizer. 
 
 So on they marched. 
 
 "Everything you see exists," said Pluizer as they proceeded. 
 "It is all real. One thing only is not real. That is 
 yourself, Johannes, You are not here, and you cannot be 
 here." 
 
 And he burst out laughing as he saw the frightened and 
 vacant look on Johannes' face at this sally. 
 
 "This is the last — actually the last." 
 
 "The way stops short here. I will go no farther," said the 
 earwig, peevishly. 
 
 "Well, / mean to go farther," said Pluizer; and where the 
 way ended he began digging with both hands. 
 
 "Help me, Johannes!" Without resistance Johannes sadly 
 obeyed, and began scooping up the moist, loose earth. 
 
 They drudged on in silence until they came to the black 
 wood. 
 
 The worm had drawn in its ringed head, and backed out of 
 sight. The earwig dropped the light and turned away. 
 
 "They cannot get in — the wood is too new," said he, re- 
 treating. 
 
 "I shall!" said Pluizer, and with his crooked fingers he tore 
 long white cracking splinters out of the wood. 
 
 A fearful pressure lay on poor Johannes. Yet he had to 
 do it — he could not resist. 
 
 At last, the dark space was open. Pluizer snatched the 
 light and scrambled inside. 
 
 "Here, here!" he called, and ran toward the other end. 
 
 But when Johannes had come as far as the hands, that 
 lay folded upon the breast, he was forced to stop. He stared 
 at the thin, white fingers, dimly lighted on the upper side. 
 He recognized them at once. He knew the form of the fingers 
 and the creases in them, as well as the shape of the long nails
 
 THEQUEST 103 
 
 now dark and discolored. He recognized a brown spot on 
 the forefinger. 
 
 They were his own hands. 
 
 "Here, here!" called Pluizer from the head. "Look! do 
 you know him ?" 
 
 Poor Johannes tried to stand up, and go to the light that 
 beckoned him, but his strength gave way. The little light 
 died into utter darkness, and he fell senseless.
 
 XII 
 
 He had sunk into a deep sleep — to depths where no dreams 
 come. 
 
 In slowly rising from those shades to the cool grey morning 
 light, he passed through dreams, varied and gentle, of former 
 times. He awoke, and they glided from his spirit like dew- 
 drops from a flower. The expression of his eyes was calm 
 and mild while they still rested upon the throngs of lovely 
 images. 
 
 Yet, as if shunning the glare of day, he closed his eyes to 
 the light. He saw again what he had seen the morning before. 
 It seemed to him far away, and long ago; yet hour by hour 
 there came back the remembrance of everything — from the 
 dreary dawn to the awful night. He could not believe that all 
 those horrible things had occurred in a single day; the begin- 
 ning of his misery seemed so remote — lost in grey mists. 
 
 The sweet dreams faded away, leaving no trace behind. 
 Pluizer shook him, and the gloomy day began — dull and 
 colorless — the forerunner of many, many others. 
 
 Yet what he had seen the night before on that fearful journey 
 stayed in his mind. Had it been only a frightful vision ? 
 
 When he asked Pluizer about it, shyly, the latter looked at 
 him queerly and scoffingly. 
 
 "What do you mean ?" he asked. 
 
 Johannes did not see the leer in his eye, and asked if it had 
 really happened — he still saw it all so sharp and clear. 
 
 "How silly you are, Johannes! Indeed, such things as 
 that can never happen." 
 
 Johannes did not know what to think. 
 
 "We will soon put you to work; and then you will ask no 
 more such foolish questions." 
 
 So they went to Doctor Cijfer, who was to help Johannes 
 find what he was seeking. 
 
 104
 
 THEQUEST 105 
 
 While in the crowded street, Pluizer suddenly stood still, 
 and pointed out to Johannes a man in the throng. 
 
 "Do you remember him?" asked Pluizer, bursting into a 
 laugh when Johannes grew pale and stared at the man in 
 horror. 
 
 He had seen him the night before — deep under the 
 ground. 
 
 The doctor received them kindly, and imparted his wisdom 
 to Johannes who listened for hours that day, and for many 
 days thereafter. 
 
 The doctor had not yet found what Johannes was seeking; 
 but was very near it, he said. He would take Johannes as 
 far as he himself had gone, and then together they would 
 surely find it. 
 
 Johannes listened and learned, diligently and patiently, 
 day after day and month after month. He felt little hope, 
 yet he comprehended that he must go on, now, as far as pos- 
 sible. He thought it strange that, seeking the light, the farther 
 he went the darker it grew. Of all he learned, the beginning 
 was the best; but the deeper he penetrated the duller and 
 darker it became. He began with plants and animals — with 
 everything about him — and if he looked a long while at them, 
 they turned to figures. Everything resolved itself into figures 
 — pages full of them. Doctor Cijfer thought that fine, and 
 he said the figures brought light to him; — but it was darkness 
 to Johannes. 
 
 Pluizer never left him, and pressed and urged him on, if he 
 grew disheartened and weary. He spoiled for him every 
 moment of enjoyment or admiration. 
 
 Johannes was amazed and delighted as he studied and saw 
 how exquisitely the flowers were constructed; how they formed 
 the fruit, and how the insects unwittingly aided the work. 
 
 "That is wonderful," said he. "How exactly everything 
 is calculated, and deftly, delicately formed!" 
 
 "Yes, amazingly formed," said Pluizer. "It is a pity that 
 the greater part of that deftness and fineness comes to naught.
 
 io6 THEQUEST 
 
 How many flowers bring forth fruit, and how many seeds grow 
 to be trees ?" 
 
 "But yet everything seems to be made according to a great 
 plan," said Johannes. "Look! the bees seek honey for their 
 own use, and do not know that they are aiding the flowers; and 
 the flowers allure the bees by their color. It is a plan, and 
 they both unfold it, without knowing it." 
 
 "That is fine in sound, but it fails in fact. When the bees 
 get a chance they bite a hole deep down in the flower, and 
 upset the whole intricate arrangement. A cunning craftsman 
 that, to let a bee make sport of him!" 
 
 And when he came to the study of men and animals — their 
 wonderful construction — matters went still worse. 
 
 In all that looked beautiful to Johannes, or ingenious, 
 Pluizer pointed out the incompleteness and defects. He 
 showed him the great army of ills and sorrows that can assail 
 mankind and animals, with preference for the most loathe- 
 some and most hideous. 
 
 "That designer, Johannes, was very cunning, but in every- 
 thing he made he forgot something, and man has a busy time 
 trying as far as possible to patch up those defects. Just look 
 about you! An umbrella, a pair of spectacles — even clothing 
 and houses — everything is human patchwork. The design 
 is by no means adhered to. But the designer never considered 
 that people could have colds, and read books, and do a thou- 
 sand other things for which his plan was worthless. He has 
 given his children swaddling-clothes without reflecting that 
 they would outgrow them. By this time nearly all men have 
 outgrown their natural outfits. Now they do everything for 
 themselves, and have absolutely no further concern with the 
 designer and his scheme. Whatever he has not given them 
 they saucily and selfishly take; and when it is obviously his 
 will that they should die, they sometimes, by various devices, 
 evade the end." 
 
 "But it is their own fault!" cried Johannes. "Why do 
 they wilfully withdraw from nature?"
 
 THEQUEST 107 
 
 "Oh, stupid Johannes! If a nursemaid lets an innocent 
 child play with fire, and the child is burned, who is to blame ? 
 The ignorant child, or the maid who knew that the child 
 would burn itself? And who is at fault if men go astray from 
 nature, in pain and misery ? Themselves, or the All-wise 
 Designer, to whom they are as ignorant children?" 
 
 "But they are not ignorant. They know ..." 
 
 "Johannes, if you say to a child, 'Do not touch that fire; it 
 will hurt,' and then the child does touch it, because it knows 
 not what pain is, can you claim freedom from blame, and say, 
 'The child was not ignorant?' You knew when you spoke, 
 that it would not heed your warning. Men are as foolish and 
 stupid as children. Glass is fragile and clay is soft; yet He 
 who made man, and considered not his folly, is like him who 
 makes weapons of glass, careless lest they break — or bolts 
 of clay, not expecting them to bend." 
 
 These words fell upon Johannes' soul like drops of liquid 
 fire, and his heart swelled with a great grief that supplanted 
 the former sorrow, and often caused him to weep in the still, 
 sleepless hours of the night. 
 
 Ah, sleep! sleep! There came a time after long days when 
 sleep was to him the dearest thing of all. In sleep there was 
 no thinking — no sorrow; and his dreams always carried him 
 back to the old life. It seemed delightful to him, as he dreamed 
 of it; yet, by day he could not remember how things had been. 
 He only knew that the sadness and longing of earlier times 
 were better than the dull, listless feeling of the present. Once 
 he had grievously longed for Windekind — once he had waited, 
 hour after hour, on Robinetta. How delightful that had 
 been! 
 
 Robinetta! Was he still longing? The more he learned, 
 the less he longed — because that feeling, also, was dissected, 
 and Pluizer explained to him what love really was. Then he 
 was ashamed, and Doctor Cijfer said that he could not yet 
 reduce it to figures, but that very soon he would be able to. 
 And thus it grew darker and darker about Little Johannes.
 
 io8 THEQUEST 
 
 He had a faint feeling of gratitude that he had not recog- 
 nized Robinetta on his awful journey with Pluizer. 
 
 When he spoke of it, Pluizer said nothing, but laughed 
 slyly; and Johannes knew that he had not been spared this 
 out of pity. 
 
 When Johannes was neither learning nor working, Pluizer 
 made use of the hours in showing him the people. He took 
 him everywhere; into the hospitals where lay the sick — long 
 rows of pale, wasted faces, with dull or suffering expressions. 
 In those great wards a frightful silence reigned, broken only 
 by coughs and groans. And Pluizer pointed out to him those 
 who never again would leave those halls. And when, at a 
 fixed hour, streams of people poured into the place to visit 
 their sick relations, Pluizer said: "Look! These all know 
 that they too will sometime enter this gloomy house, to be 
 borne away from it in a black box." 
 
 "How can they ever be cheerful ?" thought Johannes. 
 
 And Pluizer took him to a tiny upper room, pervaded with 
 a melancholy twilight, where the distant tones of a piano in a 
 neighboring house came, dreamily and ceaselessly. There, 
 among the other patients, Pluizer showed him one who was 
 staring in a stupid way at a narrow sunbeam that slowly 
 crept along the wall. 
 
 "Already he has lain there seven long years," said Pluizer. 
 "He was a sailor, and has seen the palms of India, the blue 
 seas of Japan, and the forests of Brazil, During all the long 
 days of those seven long years he has amused himself with 
 that little sunbeam and the piano-playing. He cannot ever 
 go away, and may still be here for seven more years." 
 
 After this, Johannes' most dreadful dream was of waking 
 in that little room — in the melancholy twilight — with those 
 far-away sounds, and nothing ever more to see than the waning 
 and waxing light. 
 
 Pluizer took him also into the great cathedrals, and let him 
 listen to what was being said there. He took him to festi- 
 vals, to great ceremonies, and into the heart of many homes.
 
 THEQUEST 109 
 
 Johannes learned to know men, and sometimes it happened 
 that he was led to think of his former life; of the fairy-tales that 
 Windekind had told him, and of his own adventures. There 
 were men who reminded him of the glow-worm who fancied 
 he saw his deceased companions in the stars — or of the May- 
 bug who was one day older than the other, and who had said 
 so much about a calling. And he heard tales which made 
 him think of Kribblegauw, the hero of the spiders; or of the 
 eel who did nothing, and yet was fed because a fat king was 
 most desired. He likened himself to the young May-bug 
 who did not know what a calling was, and who flew into the 
 light. He felt as if he also were creeping over the carpet, 
 helpless and maimed, with a string around his body — a 
 cutting string that Pluizer was pulling and twitching. 
 
 Ah! he would never again find the garden! When would 
 the heavy foot come and crush him ? 
 
 Pluizer ridiculed him whenever he spoke of Windekind, 
 and, gradually, he began to believe that Windekind had never 
 existed. 
 
 " But, Pluizer, is there then no little key ? Is there nothing 
 at all?" 
 
 "Nothing, nothing. Men and figures. They are all real 
 ■ — they exist — no end of figures!" 
 
 "Then you have deceived me, Pluizer! Let me leave off' 
 — do not make me seek any more — let me alone!" 
 
 " Have you forgotten what Death said .'' You were to 
 become a man — a complete man." 
 
 "I will not — it is dreadful!" 
 
 "You must — you have made your choice. Just look at 
 Doctor Cijfer. Does he find it dreadful ? Grow to be like 
 him." 
 
 It was quite true. Doctor Cijfer always seemed calm and 
 happy. Untiring and imperturbable, he went his way — 
 studying and instructing, contented and even-tempered. 
 
 "Look at him," said Pluizer. "He sees all, and yet sees 
 nothing. He looks at men as if he himself were another
 
 no THE QUEST 
 
 kind of being who had no concern about them. He goes 
 amid disease and misery like one invuhierable, and consorts 
 with Death Hke one immortal. He longs only to understand 
 what he sees, and he thinks everything equally good that 
 comes to him in the way of knowledge. He is satisfied with 
 everything, as soon as he understands it. You ought to become 
 so, too." 
 
 "But I never can." 
 
 "That is true, but it is not my fault." 
 
 In this hopeless way their discussions always ended. Jo- 
 hannes grew dull and indifferent, seeking and seeking — what 
 for or why, he no longer knew. He had become like the 
 many to whom Wistik had spoken. 
 
 The winter came, but he scarcely observed it. 
 
 One chilly, misty morning, when the snow lay wet and 
 dirty in the streets, and dripped from trees and roofs, he went 
 with Pluizer to take his daily walk. 
 
 In a city square he met a group of young girls carrying 
 school-books. They stopped to throw snow at one another 
 — and they laughed and romped. Their voices rang clearly 
 over the snowy square. Not a footstep was to be heard, nor 
 the sound of a vehicle — only the tinkling bells of the horses, 
 or the rattling of a shop door; and the joyful laughing rang 
 loudly through the stillness. 
 
 Johannes saw that one of the girls glanced at him, and then 
 kept looking back. She had on a black hat, and wore a gay 
 little cloak. He knew her face very well, but could not think 
 who she was. She nodded to him — and then again. 
 
 "Who is that ? I know her." 
 
 "That is possible. Her name is Maria. Some call her 
 Robinetta." 
 
 "No, that cannot be. She is not like Windekind. She is 
 like any other girl." 
 
 "Ha, ha, ha! She cannot be like tjohody. But she is what 
 she is. You have been longing to see her, and now I will take 
 you to her."
 
 THE GUEST iii 
 
 " No ! I do not want to go. I would rather have seen 
 her dead, like the others." 
 
 And Johannes did not look round again, but hurried on, 
 muttering: 
 
 "This is the last! There is nothing — nothing!"
 
 XIII 
 
 The clear warm sunlight of an early spring morning streamed 
 over the great city. Bright rays entered the little room where 
 Johannes lived, and on the low ceiling there quivered and 
 wavered a great splash of light, reflected from the water rip- 
 pling in the moat. 
 
 Johannes sat before the window in the sunshine, gazing out 
 over the town. Its aspect was entirely altered. The grey 
 fog had floated away, and a lustrous blue vapor enfolded 
 the end of the long street and the distant towers. The slopes 
 of the slate roofs glistened — silver-white. All the houses 
 showed clear lines and bright surfaces in the sunlight, and 
 there was a warm pulsing in the pale blue air. The water 
 seemed alive. The brown buds of the elm trees were big and 
 glossy, and clamorous sparrows were fluttering among the 
 branches. 
 
 As he gazed at all this, Johannes fell into a strange mood. 
 The sunshine brought to him a sweet stupor — a blending of 
 real luxury and oblivion. Dreamily he gazed at the glittering 
 ripples — the swelling elm-tree buds, and he listened to the 
 chirping of the sparrows. There was gladness in their notes. 
 
 Not in a long time had he felt so susceptible to subtle im- 
 pressions — nor so really happy. 
 
 This was the old sunshine that he remembered. This was 
 the sun that used to call him out-of-doors to the garden, 
 where he would lie down on the warm ground, looking at the 
 grasses and green things in front of him. There, nestled in 
 the lee of an old wall, he could enjoy at his ease the light and 
 heat. 
 
 It was just right in that light! It gave that safe-at-home 
 feeling — such as he remembered long ago, in his mother's 
 arms. His mind was full of memories of former times, but 
 he neither wept for nor desired them. He sat still and 
 
 IIZ
 
 THE QUEST 113 
 
 dreamed — wishing only that the sun would continue to 
 shine. 
 
 "What are you moping about there, Johannes?" cried 
 Pluizer. "You know I do not approve of dreaming." 
 
 Johannes raised his pensive eyes, imploringly. 
 
 "Let me stay a little longer," said he. "The sun is so good." 
 
 "What do you find in the sun?" asked Pluizer. "It is 
 nothing but a big candle; it does not make a bit of difference 
 whether you are in candle-light or sunlight. Look! see those 
 shadows and dashes of light on the street. They are nothing 
 but the varied effect of one little light that burns steadily — 
 without a flicker. And that light is really a tiny flame, which 
 shines upon a mere speck of the earth. There, beyond that 
 blue — above and beneath us — it is dark — cold and dark! 
 It is night there — now and ever." 
 
 But his words had no effect on Johannes. The still warm 
 sunshine penetrated him, and filled his whole being with light 
 and peace. 
 
 Pluizer led him away to the chilly house of Doctor Cijfer. 
 For a little while the image of the sun hovered before his 
 vision, then slowly faded away; and by the middle of the day 
 all was dark again. 
 
 When the evening came and he passed through the town 
 once more, the air was sultry and full of the stuffy smells of 
 spring. Everything was reeking, and he felt oppressed in the 
 narrow streets. But in the open squares he smelled the grass 
 and the buds of the country beyond; and he saw the spring in 
 the tranquil little clouds above it all — in the tender flush of 
 the western sky. 
 
 The twilight spread a soft grey mist, full of delicate tints, 
 over the town. It was quiet everywhere — only a street-organ 
 in the distance was playing a mournful tune. The buildings 
 seemed black spectres against the crimson sky — their fan- 
 tastic pinnacles and chimneys reaching up like countless arms. 
 
 When the sun threw its last rays out over the great town, it 
 seemed to Johannes that it gave him a kind smile — kind
 
 114 THE QUEST 
 
 as the smile that forgives a folly. And the sweet warmth 
 stroked his cheeks, caressingly. 
 
 Then a great sadness came into Johannes' heart — so great 
 that he could go no farther. He took a deep breath, and lifted 
 up his face to the wide heavens. The spring was calling him, 
 and he heard it. He would answer — he would go. He was 
 all contrition and love and forgiveness. 
 
 He looked up longingly, and tears fell from his sorrowful 
 eyes. 
 
 "Come, Johannes! Do not act so oddly — people are 
 looking at you," said Pluizer. 
 
 Long, monotonous rows of houses stretched out on both 
 sides — dark and gloomy — offensive in the soft spring air, 
 discordant in the spring-time melody. 
 
 People sat at their doors and on the stoops to enjoy the 
 season. To Johannes it was a mockery. The dirty doors 
 stood open, and the musty rooms within awaited their occu- 
 pants. In the distance the organ still prolonged its melan- 
 choly tones. 
 
 "Oh, if I could only fly away — far away to the dunes and 
 to the sea!" 
 
 But he had to return to the high-up little room; and that 
 night he lay awake. 
 
 He could not help thinking of his father and the long walks 
 he had taken with him, when he followed a dozen steps be- 
 hind, and his father wrote letters for him in the sand. He 
 thought of the places under the bushes where the violets grew, 
 and of the days when he and his father had searched for them. 
 All night he saw the face of his father — as it was when he 
 sat beside him evenings by the still lamplight — watching 
 him, and listening to the scratching of his pen. 
 
 Every morning after this he asked Pluizer to be allowed to 
 go once more to his home and to his father — to see once 
 again his garden and the dunes. He noticed now that he had 
 had more love for his father than for Presto and for his little 
 room, since it was of him that he asked.
 
 THE QUEST 115 
 
 "Only tell me how he is, and if he is still angry with me for 
 staying away so long." 
 
 Pluizer shrugged his shoulders. "Even if you knew, how 
 would it help you?" 
 
 Still the spring kept calling him — louder and louder. Every 
 night he dreamed of the dark green moss on the hillslopes, and 
 of sunbeams shining through the young and tender, verdure. 
 
 "It cannot long stay this way," thought Johannes. "I 
 cannot bear it." 
 
 And often when he could not sleep he rose up softly, went to 
 the window, and looked out at the night. He saw the sleepy, 
 feathery little clouds drifting slowly over the disk of the moon 
 to float peacefully in a sea of soft, lustrous light. He thought 
 of the distant dunes — asleep, now, in the sultry night — how 
 wonderful it must be in the low woods where not a leaf would 
 be stirring, and where it was full of the fragrance of moist 
 moss and young birch-sprouts. He fancied he could hear, in 
 the distance the swelling chorus of the frogs, which hovered 
 so mystically over the plains; and the song of the only bird 
 which can accompany the solemn stillness — whose lay begins 
 so soft and plaintive and breaks off so suddenly, making the 
 silence seem yet deeper. And it all was calling — calling 
 him. He dropped his head upon his arms on the window-sill, 
 and sobbed. 
 
 "I cannot bear it. I shall die soon if I cannot go." 
 
 When Pluizer roused him the following morning, he was 
 still sitting by the window, where he had fallen asleep with 
 his head on his arm. 
 
 The days passed by — grew long and warm — and there 
 came no change. Yet Johannes did not die, and had to bear 
 his sorrow. 
 
 One morning Doctor Cijfer said to him: 
 
 "Come with me, Johannes. I have to visit a patient." 
 
 Doctor Cijfer was known to be a learned man, and many 
 appealed to him to ward off sickness and death. Johannes 
 had already accompanied him many times.
 
 ii6 THE QUEST 
 
 Pluizer was unusually frolicsome this morning. Again and 
 again he stood on his head, danced and tumbled, and per- 
 petrated all kinds of reckless tricks. His face wore a constant, 
 mysterious grin, as if he had a surprise all ready for the spring- 
 ing. Johannes was very much afraid of him in this humor. 
 
 But Doctor Cijfer was as serious as ever. 
 
 They went a long way this morning — in a railway train 
 and afoot. They went farther than at other times, for Jo- 
 hannes had never yet been taken outside the town. 
 
 It was a warm, sunny day. Looking out of the train, 
 Johannes saw the great green meadows go by, with their long- 
 plumed grass, and grazing cows. He saw white butterflies 
 fluttering above the flower-decked ground, where the air was 
 quivering with the heat of the sun. 
 
 And, suddenly, he felt a thrill. There lay, outspread, the 
 long and undulating dunes! 
 
 "Now, Johannes!" said Pluizer, with a grin, "now you 
 have your wish, you see." 
 
 Only half believing, Johannes continued to gaze at the 
 dunes. They came nearer and nearer. The long ditches on 
 both sides seemed to be whirling around their centre, and the 
 lonely dwellings along the road sped swiftly past. 
 
 Then came some trees — thick-foliaged chestnut trees, 
 bearing great clusters of red or white flowers — dark, blue- 
 green pines — tall, stately linden trees. 
 
 It was true, then; he was going to see his dunes once more. 
 
 The train stopped and then the three went afoot, under the 
 shady foliage. 
 
 Here was the dark-green moss — here were the round spots 
 of sunshine on the ground — this was the odor of birch- 
 sprouts and pine-needles. 
 
 "Is it true.'' Is it really true?" thought Johannes. "Am 
 I going to be happy ?" 
 
 His eyes sparkled, and his heart bounded. He began to 
 believe in his happiness. He knew these trees, this ground; 
 he had often walked over this wood-path.
 
 THE QUEST 117 
 
 They were alone on the way, yet Johannes felt forced to 
 look round, as though some one were following them; and 
 he thought he saw between the oak leaves the dark figure of a 
 man who again and again remained hidden by the last turn 
 in the path. 
 
 Pluizer gave him a cunning, uncanny look. Doctor Cijfer 
 walked with long strides, looking down at the ground. 
 
 The way grew more and more familiar to him — he knew 
 every bush, every stone. Then suddenly he felt a sharp pang, 
 for he stood before his own house. 
 
 The chestnut tree in front of it spread out its large, hand- 
 shaped leaves. Up to the very top the glorious white flowers 
 stood out from the full round masses of foliage. 
 
 He heard the sound he knew so well of the opening of the 
 door, and he breathed the air of his own home. He recog- 
 nized the hall, the doors, everything — bit by bit — with a 
 painful feeling of lost familiarity. It was all a part of his life 
 — his lonely, musing child-life. 
 
 He had talked with all these things — with them he had 
 lived in his own world of thought that he suffered no one to 
 enter. But now he felt himself cut off from the old house, 
 and dead to it all — its chambers, halls, and doorways. He 
 felt that this separation was past recall, and as if he were 
 visiting a churchyard — it was so sad and melancholy. 
 
 If only Presto had sprung to meet him it would have been 
 less dismal — but Presto was certainly away or dead. 
 
 Yet where was his father ? 
 
 He looked back to the open door and the sunny garden 
 outside, and saw the man who had seemed to be following 
 him, now striding up to the house. He came nearer and 
 nearer, and seemed to grow larger as he approached. When 
 he reached the door, a great chill shadow filled the entrance. 
 Then Johannes recognized the man. 
 
 It was deathly still in the house, and they went up the 
 stairs without speaking. There was one stair that always 
 creaked when stepped upon — Johannes knew it. And now
 
 ii8 THE QUEST 
 
 he heard it creak three times. It sounded like painful groan- 
 ings, but under the fourth footstep it was like a faint sob. 
 
 Upstairs Johannes heard a moaning — low and regular 
 as the ticking of a clock. It was a dismal, torturing sound. 
 
 The door of Johannes' room stood open. He threw a 
 frightened glance into it. The marvelous flower-forms of 
 the hangings looked at him in stupid surprise. The clock 
 had run down. 
 
 They went to the room from which the sounds came. It 
 was his father's bedroom. The sun shone gaily in upon 
 the closed, green curtains of the bed. Simon, the cat, sat 
 on the window-sill in the sunshine. An oppressive smell of 
 wine and camphor pervaded the place, and the low moaning 
 sounded close at hand. 
 
 Johannes heard whispering voices, and carefully guarded 
 footfalls. Then the green curtains were drawn aside. 
 
 He saw his father's face that had so often been in his 
 mind of late. But it was very different now. The grave, 
 kindly expression was gone and it looked strained and dis- 
 tressed. It was ashy pale, with deep brown shadows. The 
 teeth were visible between the parted lips, and the whites of 
 the eyes under the half-closed eyelids. His head lay sunken 
 in the pillow, and was lifted a little with the regularity of the 
 moans, falling each time wearily back again. 
 
 Johannes stood by the bed, motionless, and looked with 
 wide, fixed eyes upon the well-known face. He did not 
 know what he thought — he dared not move a finger; he dared 
 not clasp those worn old hands lying limp on the white linen. 
 
 Everything around him grew black — the sun and the 
 bright room, the verdure outdoors, and the blue sky as well 
 — everything that lay behind him — it grew black, black, 
 dense and impenetrable. And in that night he could see only 
 the pale face before him, and could think only of the poor 
 tired head — wearily lifted again and again, with the groan 
 of anguish. 
 
 Directly, there came a change in this regular movement.
 
 THE QUEST 119 
 
 The moaning ceased, the eyeHds opened feebly, the eyes 
 looked inquiringly around, and the lips tried to say something. 
 
 "Father!" whispered Johannes, trembling, while he looked 
 anxiously into the seeking eyes. The weary glance rested 
 upon him, and a faint, faint smile furrowed the hollow cheeks. 
 The thin closed hand was lifted from the sheet, and made 
 an uncertain movement toward Johannes — then fell again, 
 powerless. 
 
 "Come, come!" said Pluizer. "No scenes here!" 
 
 "Step aside, Johannes," said Doctor Cijfer, "we must see 
 what can be done." 
 
 The doctor began his examination, and Johannes left the 
 bed and went to stand by the window. He looked at the 
 sunny grass and the clear sky, and at the broad chestnut 
 leaves where the big flies sat — shining blue in the sunlight. 
 The moaning began again with the same regularity. 
 
 A blackbird hopped through the tall grass in the garden 
 — great red and black butterflies were hovering over the 
 flower-beds, and there reached Johannes from out the foliage 
 of the tallest trees the soft, coaxing coo of the wood-doves. 
 
 In the room the moaning continued — never ceasing. He 
 had to listen to it — and it came regularly — as unprevent- 
 able as the falling drop that causes madness. In suspense he 
 waited through each interval, and it always came again — 
 frightful as the footstep of approaching death. 
 
 All out-of-doors was wrapped in warm, mellow sunlight. 
 Everything was happy and basking in it. The grass-blades 
 thrilled and the leaves sighed in the sweet warmth. Above 
 the highest tree tops, deep in the abounding blue, a heron 
 was soaring in peaceful flight. 
 
 Johannnes could not understand — it was an enigma to 
 him. All was so confused and dark in his soul. "How can 
 all this be in me at the same time ?" he thought. 
 
 " Is this really I ? Is that my father — my own father ? 
 Mine — Johannes' ?" 
 
 It was as if he spoke of a stranger. It was all a tale that he
 
 120 THEQUEST 
 
 had heard. Some one had told him of Johannes, and of the 
 house where he lived, and of the father whom he had for- 
 saken, and who was now dying. He himself was not that 
 one — he had heard about him. It was a sad, sad story. 
 But it did not concern himself. 
 
 But yes — yes — he was that same Johannes! 
 
 "I do not understand the case," said Doctor Cijfer, stand- 
 ing up. "It is a very obscure malady." 
 
 Pluizer stepped up to Johannes. 
 
 "Are you not going to give it a look, Johannes? It is an 
 interesting case. The doctor does not know it." 
 
 "Leave me alone," said Johannes, without turning round. 
 "I cannot think." 
 
 But Pluizer went behind him and whispered sharply in his 
 ear, according to his wont: 
 
 "Cannot think! Did you fancy you could not think .? 
 There you are wrong. You must think. You need not be 
 gazing into the green trees nor the blue sky. That will not 
 help. Windekind is not coming. And the sick man there 
 is going to die. You must have seen that as well as we. 
 But what do you think his trouble is ?" 
 
 "I do not know ^ — I will not know!" 
 
 Johannes said nothing more, but listened to the moaning 
 that had a plaintive and reproachful sound. Doctor Cijfer 
 was writing notes in a little book. At the head of the bed 
 sat the dark figure that had followed them. His head was 
 bowed, his long hand extended toward the sufferer, and his 
 deep-set eyes were fixed upon the clock. 
 
 The sharp whispering in his ear began again. 
 
 "What makes you look so sad, Johannes? You have 
 your heart's desire now. There are the dunes, there the sun- 
 beams through the verdure, there the flitting butterflies and 
 the singing birds. What more do you w ant ? Are you wait- 
 ing for Windekind ? If he be anywhere, he must be there. 
 Why does he not come ? Would he be afraid of this dark 
 friend at the bedside ? Yet always he was there I "
 
 THE QUEST 121 
 
 "Do you not see, Johannes, that it has all been imagina- 
 tion ? 
 
 "Do you hear that moaning? It sounds lighter than it 
 did a while ago. You can know that it will soon cease alto- 
 gether. But what of that ? There must have been a great 
 many such groans while you were running around outside 
 in the garden among the wild-roses. Why do you stay here 
 crying, instead of going to the dunes as you used to .? Look 
 outside! Flowers and fragrance and singing everywhere 
 just as if nothing had happened. Why do you not take part 
 in all that life and gladness ? 
 
 "First, you complained, and longed to be here; and after I 
 have brought you where you wished to be, you still are not 
 content. See! I will let you go. Stroll through the high 
 grass — lie in the cool shade — let the flies buzz about you 
 
 — inhale the fragrance of the fresh young herbs. I release 
 you. Go, now! Find Windekind again! 
 
 "You will not .r' Then do you now believe in me alone? 
 Is what I have told you true ? Do I lie, or does Windekind ? 
 
 "Listen to the moans! — so short and weak! They will 
 soon cease. 
 
 "Do not look so agonized, Johannes. The sooner it is 
 over the better. There could be no more long walks now; 
 you will never again look for violets with him. With whom 
 do you think he has taken his walks, during the past two years 
 
 — while you were away ? You cannot ask him now. You 
 never will know. After this you will have to content your- 
 self with me. If you had made my acquaintance a little 
 earlier, you would not look so pitiful now. You are a long 
 way yet from being what you ought to be. Do you think 
 Doctor Cijfer in your place would look as you do ? It would 
 make him about as sad as that cat is — purring there in 
 the sunshine. And it is well. What is the use of being so 
 wretched ? Did the flowers teach you that ? They do not 
 grieve when one of them is plucked. Is not that lucky ? 
 They know nothing, therefore they are happy. You have
 
 122 THEQUEST 
 
 only begun to know things; and now you must know every- 
 thing, in order to be happy. I alone can teach you. All or 
 nothing. 
 
 "Listen to me. What is the difference whether that is 
 your father or not ? He is a man who is dying; that is a com- 
 mon occurrence. 
 
 " Do you hear the moaning still ? Very feeble, is it not .? 
 He is near his end." 
 
 Johannes looked toward the bed in fearful distress. 
 
 Simon, the cat, dropped from the window-seat, stretched 
 himself, and curled up purring on the bed close beside the 
 dying man. 
 
 The poor, tired head moved no more. It lay still, pressed 
 into the pillow; yet from the half-open mouth there still came, 
 at intervals, short, exhausted sounds. 
 
 They grew softer — softer — scarcely audible. 
 
 Then Death turned his dark eyes from the clock to rest 
 them upon the down-sunken head. He raised his hand — 
 and all was still. 
 
 An ashen shadow crept over the stiffening face. 
 
 Silence — dreary, lonely silence! 
 
 Johannes waited — waited. 
 
 But the recurring groans had ceased. All was still — 
 utterly, awfully still. 
 
 The strain of the long hours of listening was suspended, 
 and it seemed to Johannes as if his soul were released, and 
 falling into black and bottomless depths. 
 
 He fell deeper and deeper. It grew stiller and darker 
 around him. 
 
 Then he heard Pluizer's voice, as if from far away. 
 
 "Hey, ho! Another story told." 
 
 "That is good," said Doctor Cijfer. "Now you can find 
 out what the trouble was. I leave that to you. I must 
 away." 
 
 While still half in a dream, Johannes saw the gleam of 
 burnished knives.
 
 THEQUEST 123 
 
 The cat ruffed up his back. It was cold next the body, 
 and he sought the sunshine again. 
 
 Johannes saw Pluizer take a knife, examine it carefully, 
 and approach the bed with it. 
 
 Then Johannes shook off his stupor. Before Pluizer could 
 reach the bed he was standing in front of him. 
 
 "What are you going to do?" he asked. His eyes were 
 wide open with horror. 
 
 "We are going to find out what it was," said Pluizer. 
 
 "No!" said Johannes; and his voice was as deep as a man's. 
 
 "What does that mean ?" asked Pluizer, with a grim glare. 
 "Can you prevent me .'' Do you not know how strong I am ?" 
 
 "You shall not!" said Johannes. He set his teeth and 
 drew in a deep breath, looked steadily at Pluizer, and tried 
 to stay his hand. 
 
 But Pluizer persisted. Then Johannes seized his wrists, 
 and wrestled with him. 
 
 Pluizer was strong, he knew. He never yet had opposed 
 him; but he struggled on with a fixed purpose. 
 
 The knife gleamed before his eyes. He saw sparks and 
 red flames; yet he did not give in, but wrestled on. 
 
 He knew what would happen if he succumbed. He knew, 
 for he had seen before. But it was his father that lay behind 
 him, and he w^ould not let it happen now. 
 
 And while they wrestled, panting, the dead body behind 
 them lay rigid and motionless — just as it was the instant 
 when silence fell — the whites of the eyes visible in a narrow 
 strip, the corners of the mouth drawn up in a stiffened grin. 
 The head, only, shook gently back and forth, as they both 
 pushed against the bed in their struggle. 
 
 Still Johannes held firm, though his breath failed and he 
 could see nothino-. A veil of blood-red mist was before his 
 eyes; yet he stood firm. 
 
 Then, gradually, the resistance of the two wrists in his 
 grasp grew weaker. His muscles relaxed, his arms dropped 
 limp beside his body, and his closed hands were empty.
 
 124 THEQUEST 
 
 When he looked up Pliiizer had vanished. Death sat, 
 alone, by the bed and nodded to him. 
 
 "You have done well, Johannes," said he. 
 
 "Will he come back ?" whispered Johannes. Death shook 
 his head. 
 
 "Never. He who once dares him will see him no more." 
 
 "And Windekind ? Shall I not see Windekind again?" 
 
 The solemn man looked long and earnestly at Johannes. 
 His regard was not now alarming, but gentle and serious, and 
 attracted Johannes like a profound depth. 
 
 "I alone can take you to Windekind. Through me alone 
 can you find the book." 
 
 "Then take me with you. There is no one left — take me, 
 too! I want nothing more." 
 
 Again Death shook his head. 
 
 "You love men, Johannes. You do not know it, but you 
 have always loved them. You must become a good man. 
 It is a fine thing to be a good man." 
 
 "I do not want that — take me with you!" 
 
 "You mistake — you do want it: you cannot help it." 
 
 Then the tall, dark figure grew vague before Johannes' eyes 
 — it faded into a filmy, grey mist adrift in, the room — and 
 passed away along the sunbeams. 
 
 Johannes bowed his head upon the side of the bed, and 
 sobbed for the dead man.
 
 XIV 
 
 A LONG time afterward, he lifted up his head. The sunbeams 
 shone obHquely in, bringing a rosy glow. They resembled 
 straight bars of gold. 
 
 "Father, father!" whispered Johannes. 
 
 Outside, the sun was pouring over everything a flood of 
 shining, golden, glowing splendor. Every leaf hung motion- 
 less, and all was hushed in solemn worship of the sun. 
 
 Along with the light there fell into the room a gentle sough- 
 ing — as if the sunbeams were singing. 
 
 "Sun-son! Sun-son!" 
 
 Johannes lifted up his head, and listened. It tingled in 
 his ears. 
 
 "Sun-son! Sun-son!" 
 
 It was like Windekind's voice. He alone had named him 
 that; should he call him now ? 
 
 But he looked at the face beside him. He would listen no 
 more. 
 
 "Poor, dear father!" he said. 
 
 But suddenly it rang again around him from all sides, so 
 loud, so penetrating, that he trembled with his marvelous 
 emotion. 
 
 "Sun-son! Sun-son!" 
 
 Johannes stood up and gazed outside. What light! What 
 splendid light! It streamed over the high tree tops, it glistened 
 amid the grass-blades, and sparkled in the shadow-patches. 
 The whole air was filled with it up to the very sky where the 
 first exquisite sunset clouds were flecking the blue. 
 
 Beyond the meadow, between the green trees and shrubs, 
 he saw the dunes. Red gold lay along their slopes, and in 
 their shadows hung the blue of the heavens. 
 
 They lay stretched out reposefully in their robe of tender 
 tints. The delicate undulations of their expanse brought a 
 
 1 25
 
 126 THEQUEST 
 
 benediction — as does prayer. Johannes felt again as he 
 had felt when Windekind taught him how to pray. 
 
 Was not that he, there, in the blue garment? Look! there 
 in the heart of the light — shimmering in a maze of blue and 
 gold. Was not that Windekind, beckoning him ? 
 
 Johannes flew out of doors into the sunlight. For an instant 
 he stood still. He felt the holy solemnity of the light, and 
 scarcely dared to move where the foliage was so still. 
 
 Yet, there, in front of him, was the light figure again. It 
 was Windekind! It surely was! His radiant face was turned 
 toward him, and the lips were parted as if calling him. 
 With his riffht hand he was beckoning. In his left he held 
 aloft some object. In the tips of his slender fingers he held it, 
 and it glittered and sparkled. 
 
 With a glad cry of joy and yearning, Johannes sped toward 
 the beloved apparition. But with laughing face and waving 
 hand, it floated before him, still beckoning him on. Some- 
 times it would drift low, and lingeringly skim the ground, to 
 ascend again lightly and swiftly, and float farther off^, like a 
 feathery seed borne on by the wind. 
 
 Johannes himself longed to rise and fly as he had done long 
 ago, in his dreams. But the earth held his feet, and his 
 steps were heavy on the grassy ground. He was obliged to 
 pick his way painfully through the bushes — their foliage 
 rustline and scratchinc; alone his clothes — their branches 
 brushing across his face. Panting with weariness he had to 
 climb the mossy slopes of the dunes. Yet he followed un- 
 tiringly — his eye never turned from Windekind's radiant 
 apparition — from what was gleaming in the upraised hand. 
 
 There he was, in the middle of the dunes. The wild-roses, 
 with their thousands of pale yellow cups, were blossoming in 
 the glowing valleys, and gazing at the sunlight. And many 
 other flowers were blooming there — bright blue, yellow, and 
 purple. A sultry heat filled the little hollows, cherishing the 
 fragrant herbs. Strong, resinous odors hung in the air. 
 Johannes smelled them as he went — he smelled the wild
 
 THEQUEST 127 
 
 thyme, and the dry reindeer-moss which crackled under his 
 feet. It was intoxicatingly dehghtful. 
 
 And he saw mottled field-moths fluttering in front of the 
 lovely image he was following; also little black and red butter- 
 flies, and the sand-eye — the merry little moth with satiny 
 wings of the most delicate blue. 
 
 Golden beetles that live on the wild-rose whirred around 
 his head, and big bumblebees danced and hummed all about 
 in the dry, scorched grass. How delightful it was! How 
 happy he would be if only he were with Windekind. 
 
 But Windekind swept farther and farther away. He 
 followed breathlessly. The big, pale-leaved thorn-bushes 
 held him back, and hurt him with their briars. The 
 fuzzy, silvery torch-plants shook their tall heads as he 
 pushed them aside from his course. He scrambled up the 
 sandy barriers, and wounded his hands with the prickly 
 broom. 
 
 He pushed on through the low birch-wood where the grass 
 was knee-high, and the water-birds flew up from the little 
 pools which ghstened among the shrubs. Dense, white- 
 flowered hawthorns mingled their fragrance with that of the 
 birch-leaves and the mint, which grew in great profusion in 
 the swampy soil. 
 
 But there came an end to woods, and verdure,and fragrant 
 flowers. Only the singular, pale blue sea-holly, growing 
 amid the sear, colorless heath-grass. 
 
 On the top of the last high swell of the dunes Johannes saw 
 Windekind's form. There was a blinding glitter from his 
 upraised hand. Borne over from the other side by a cool 
 breeze, a great, unceasing roar sounded mysteriously alluring. 
 It was the sea. Johannes felt that he was nearing it, and he 
 slowly climbed the last ascent. At the top, he fell on his 
 knees and gazed upon the ocean. 
 
 As he got above the ridge, a rosy glow illumined him. The 
 sunset clouds had drawn apart from the central light. Like 
 a wide ring of welded blocks of stone, with glowing red edges,
 
 128 THEQUEST 
 
 they surrounded the sinking sun. Upon the sea was a broad 
 path of Hving, crimson fire — a flaming, sparkHng path lead- 
 ing to the distant gates of heaven. 
 
 Behind the sun, which could not yet be looked upon — in 
 the depths of the light-grotto — were exquisite tints of inter- 
 mingled blue and rose. Outside, the whole wide sky was 
 lighted up with blood-red streaks, and dashes and fleckings 
 of streaming fire. 
 
 Johannes watched — until the sun's disk touched the far- 
 thest end of that glowing path which led up to him. 
 
 Then he looked down, and very near was the bright form 
 that he had followed. A boat, clear and glistening as crystal, 
 drifted near the shore upon the broad, fiery way. At one end 
 of the boat stood Windekind, alert and slender, with that 
 golden object in his hand. At the other end, Johannes recog- 
 nized the dark figure of Death. 
 
 "Windekind! Windekind!" cried Johannes. But as he 
 approached the marvelous boat, he also looked toward the 
 horizon. In the middle of the glowing space, surrounded by 
 great fiery clouds, he saw a small, black figure. It grew 
 larger and larger, and a man slowly drew near, calmly walking 
 on the tossing fiery waters. 
 
 The glowing red waves rose and fell beneath his feet, but 
 he walked tranquilly onward. 
 
 The man's face was pale, and his eyes were dark and deep 
 • — deep as the eyes of Windekind; but there was an infinitely 
 gentle melancholy in their look such as Johannes had never 
 seen in any other eyes. 
 
 "Who are you?" asked Johannes. "Are you a man?" 
 
 "I am more," was the reply. 
 
 "Art Thou Jesus — Art Thou God?" asked Johannes. 
 
 "Speak not those names!" said the figure. "They were 
 holy and pure as sacerdotal robes, and precious as nourishing 
 corn; yet they have become as husks before swine, and a 
 jester's garb for fools. Name them not, for their meaning 
 •has become perverted, their worship a mockery. Let him
 
 THE QUEST 129 
 
 who would know me cast aside those names and listen to 
 himself." 
 
 "I know Thee! I know Thee!" said Johannes. 
 
 "It was I who made you weep for men, while yet you did 
 not understand your tears. It was I who caused you to love 
 before you knew the meaning of your love. I was with you 
 and you saw me not — I stirred your soul and you knew me 
 not." 
 
 "Why do I first see Thee now ?" 
 
 "The eyes which behold Me must be brightened by many 
 tears. And not for yourself alone, but for Me, must you weep. 
 Then I will appear to you and you shall recognize in Me an 
 old friend." 
 
 "I know Thee! I recognized Thee! I want to be with 
 Thee!" 
 
 Johannes stretched out his hands. But the man pointed to 
 the glittering boat that was slowly drifting out upon the fiery 
 path. 
 
 "Look!" said he; "that is the way to all you have longed 
 for. There is no other. Without those two shall you not find 
 it. Take your choice. There is the Great Light; there you 
 would yourself be what you long to know. There!" — and he 
 pointed to the dark East — "where human nature and its sor- 
 rows arc, there lies my way. Not that errant light which 
 has misled you, but /, will be your guide. You know now. 
 Take your choice." 
 
 Then Johannes slowly turned away his eyes from Winde- 
 kind's beckoning figure, and reached out his hands to the 
 serious man. And with his guide, he turned to meet the chill 
 night wind, and to tread the dreary road to the great, dark 
 town where hum.anity was, with all its misery. 
 
 Sometime I may tell you more about Little Johannes; but 
 it will not be like a fairy tale.
 
 PART II
 
 I HAVE said that I might perhaps have something more to 
 tell about Little Johannes. Surely you have not thought I 
 w^ould not keep my word! People are not so very trustful in 
 these days, nor so patient, either. 
 
 But now I am going to put you to confusion, by telling you 
 what else happened to Little Johannes. Listen! It is worth 
 your while. And the best thing of all is that it will be rather 
 like a fairy story — even more so than what I have already 
 told you. 
 
 And yet it is all true. Yes, it all really truly happened. 
 Perhaps you will again be inclined to doubt; but when you 
 are older — much, much older — you will perceive how true 
 it is. It will be so much more pleasant for you to have faith 
 in it, that I wish from my heart you may be able to. If you 
 cannot, I am sorry for you; but at least be truthful. There- 
 fore skip nothing, but read it all. 
 
 And should you happen to meet Johannes, I give you leave 
 to speak with him about these matters, and to give him my 
 regards. He might not answer, but he will not be offended. 
 He is still rather small, but he has grown a bit. 
 
 The fine weather did not continue far into the evening. 
 The splendid clouds which Johannes had seen above the sea, 
 and out of which strode that dark figure, now betokened a 
 thunder-storm. Before he reached the middle of the dunes 
 again, the sunset sky and the starry heavens were obscured, 
 and a wild, exhausting wind, filled with fine, misty rain, swept 
 him on. Behind him the lightning played above the sea, and 
 the thunder rolled as if the heavens were being torn asunder, 
 and the planks of its floor tossed one by one into a great 
 garret. 
 
 Johannes was not alarmed, but very happy. He felt the 
 
 »33
 
 134 THEQUEST 
 
 close clasp of a \varm, firm hand. It seemed as if he never 
 yet had clung to a hand so perfect and so life-giving. Even 
 the hand of Windekind seemed flimsy and feeble compared 
 with this. 
 
 He thought that he now had reached the end of all his 
 puzzles and difficulties. This may also have occurred to you. 
 But how could that be possible when he was still such a mere 
 stripling, and did not yet comprehend one half of all the 
 marvelous things that had befallen him! 
 
 It may be that all has been plain to you. But it was not 
 to him, although he may have thought so. He was yet only 
 a little fellow without beard or moustache, and his voice was 
 still that of a boy. 
 
 "My friend," said he to his Guide, "I know now that I 
 have been bad — very bad. But now that you have come 
 and I can cling to your hand, can I not redeem my faults ? 
 Is there still time ?" 
 
 The dark figure kept silently and steadily on beside him in 
 the storm and darkness. Johannes could see neither his 
 eyes nor his features; he only heard the swishing and flapping 
 of his garments — heavy with the rain. Then he asked 
 again, somewhat anxiously, because the consolation he was 
 yearning for was longer delayed than he expected: 
 
 "May I not sometime call myself a friend of yours ? Am 
 I not yet worthy of that ? I have always so wanted to have 
 a friend! That was the best thing in life, I thought — really 
 the only thing I cared about. And now I have lost all my 
 friends — my dog, Windekind, and my father. Am I too 
 bad to deserve a true friend ?" 
 
 Then there came an answer: 
 
 "When you can he a true friend, Johannes, then indeed 
 you will find one." 
 
 There was consolation in the soft, low tones, and there 
 was love and forgiveness; but the words were torturing.
 
 THEQUEST 135 
 
 "Bad, bad!" muttered Johannes, setting his teeth together. 
 He wanted to cry, but he could not do that. That would 
 have been to pity himself, and that was not in accordance 
 with his Guide's reply. He had not been a good friend to his 
 dog, nor to Windekind, nor to his father. He wished now 
 that he could at once make amends for everything, but that 
 could not be. It had been made clear. 
 
 It was desolate on the dunes, and dark as pitch. The 
 wind was whistling through the reeds and the dwarf poplars, 
 but there was nothing to be seen. How far away seemed 
 the quiet sunlight now, the playful animals, and the flowers! 
 Silently and swiftly the two strode on along a winding cart- 
 track through the deep, wet sand, now and then stumbling 
 over the ruts. It was the road that led to the town. 
 
 "I shall — " began Johannes again, resolutely lifting his 
 head. But there he halted. 
 
 "Who says 'I shall' ^ Who knows what he will do ? Can 
 Johannes say, I am ?" 
 
 "I am sorry and I am ashamed, and I wish to be better," 
 said Johannes. 
 
 "That is well," said the soft low voice. And the tears 
 started in Johannes' eyes. He clung close to his Guide, 
 trembling slightly as they went. 
 
 "Teach me, my Father. I want to know how to be better." 
 
 "Not 'Father,' Johannes. We both have the same Father. 
 You must call me Brother." 
 
 At that word Johannes looked timidly up at his Guide with 
 startled face and wide-open eyes. In a flash of the steel-blue 
 lightning, Johannes saw the pale brow, with the dark eyes 
 turned kindly toward him. The hair of his Guide was matted 
 and dripping with water, as were also his beard and his mous- 
 tache. The locks clung to his white gleaming forehead, and 
 his eyes glowed with an inner light. Johannes felt a bound- 
 less love and adoration, and at the same time an inexpressible
 
 136 THE GUEST 
 
 compassion. "My brother!" thought he. "Oh, good, good 
 man! 
 
 And he said: "How wet you are! Put my jacket over 
 your head. I do not need it." 
 
 But in the darkness his hand was gently restrained, and 
 they hurried on while the sweat and the rain were commingled 
 upon their faces. 
 
 After a while his Guide said to him: 
 
 "Johannes, pay attention to me, for I am going to say some- 
 thing to you that you must bear in mind. Your true life is 
 only now beginning, and it is difficult to live a good life. If 
 only you could remember what I am now telling you, you 
 would never again be unhappy. Neither life nor people 
 would be able to make you unhappy. And yet it will not 
 prove thus — because you will forget." 
 
 There was silence for a while, broken only by the whist- 
 ling of the wind, the flapping of their garments, and their 
 rapid breathing — for they were walking very fast. 
 
 " Train your memory, therefore; for without an exact and 
 retentive memory nothing good is attained. And mark this 
 well; not the small and transient must you be mindful of, but 
 the great and the eternal." 
 
 Then there was a flash of lightning, and it seemed as if the 
 heavens were being consumed in the white fire, while a terrific 
 peal of thunder immediately followed, directly over their heads. 
 
 But Johannes' thoughts were dwelling attentively upon the 
 words he had heard, and he was neither frightened nor dis- 
 quieted. He raised his head, proud and glad that he was not 
 afraid, and looked, with wide-open eyes, into the high, dark 
 dome of the heavens. 
 
 "This is the great and the eternal, is it not?" he asked. 
 "This I will bear in mind." 
 
 But his Guide said: 
 
 "It is not the thunder and the lio;htnino; ^vhich aou must
 
 THEQUEST 137 
 
 bear in mind, for they are temporal and will often recur; but 
 that you were unafraid, and bravely held up your counte- 
 nance — that you must remember, and the reason why you 
 did so. For it will thunder and lighten at other times, and 
 you will be afraid. But even now — at this instant — it 
 could strike you dead. Why do you not fear now?" 
 
 "Because you are with me," said Johannes. 
 
 "Well, then, Johannes, remember this; you always have 
 me with you." 
 
 They were silent for a long while, and Johannes was think- 
 ing over these noble words. But he did not understand their 
 import. If he were always to have his Leader with him, how 
 could he forget ? Then he asked, although he well knew 
 what the reply would be: 
 
 "Are you, then, going to stay with me always ?" 
 
 "Even as I always have been with you," was the unex- 
 pected answer. 
 
 "But I did not see you, then." 
 
 "And very soon again you will not see me; yet I shall be 
 with you, just the same. Therefore, you must cultivate your 
 memory, so that it will remind you when your eyes see not. 
 Who that is forgetful can be relied on .'' You have never been 
 faithful, Johannes, and you will forget me also. But I shall 
 remain faithful, and you will bring me to mind. Then, when 
 you have learned to bethink yourself, and are yourself a faithful 
 friend, you shall have a brother and a friend." 
 
 The road was firmer now, and in the distance they saw the 
 lights of the town. Close by, the orange-yellow window- 
 squares were glimmering through the rain and darkness — 
 the dwellings themselves being still invisible in the night. 
 They saw the pools glisten, and they met a man. There was 
 a hurried, heavy footstep — a glowing red cigar-tip. Johannes 
 breathed the well-known, offensive, human atmosphere of 
 wet garments and tobacco smoke. B\' the flashes of lightning
 
 138 THEQUEST 
 
 he could see all around him little white and grey cottages. 
 He saw the gleaming street, far out in front of him — hay- 
 stacks and barns — a fence along the way; everything suddenly 
 sharp and livid. 
 
 Then a change came over him. At once, he was conscious 
 of everything, as one, being awakened, is aw^are of a voice 
 already heard in his dream. 
 
 He clearly felt himself to be an ordinary human be- 
 ing, like every one else. And his exalted companion was 
 also an ordinary man. He saw both, just as the passers- 
 by would see them; a man and a boy, wet with the rain, 
 walking hand in hand. Windekind did not get wet in the 
 rain. 
 
 As they neared the suburbs, it became lighter and more 
 noisy. It was not the great city where Johannes had lived 
 with Pluizer, but the small one where he was born and where 
 he had gone to school. 
 
 And as the two approached, they heard, through the rushing 
 of the rain and the rolling of the thunder, a lighter, indistinct 
 sound which reminded Johannes so well of former times. It 
 was a confused intermingling of voices, singing, a continual 
 din of organ-grinding, sharp little sounds of trumpets and 
 flutes, the reports of fire-crackers and rifle-shots, and now and 
 then a shrill, discordant whistle, or the sound of a bell. It 
 was the Fair! 
 
 " Be careful now, Johannes. Here are people," said his 
 companion. 
 
 Johannes gave a start. His task was to begin. He could 
 no longer rail at human beings, nor disclaim his own human 
 origin. He knew now that he had been erring, and he resolved 
 to mend his ways. Had not good Death told him it was well 
 worth while to be a good man ? So now he would live with 
 men, and try to become a good man himself; to relieve pain, 
 to lighten grief, and to bring beauty and happiness into the
 
 THEQUEST 139 
 
 lives of others. Was not that what He was teaching — He 
 at whose blessed side he should henceforth go ? 
 
 But he was greatly distressed. He already knew so well 
 what men were. He shivered in his wet clothing. 
 
 "Are you afraid already? Think how brave you were 
 just now. You must mind, not only the words, but the meaning 
 of them." 
 
 "I will be strong and brave. I will be a man among men, 
 a good man — doing good to men." 
 
 So saying, Johannes nerved himself, and with steadfast step 
 entered the town. 
 
 Here things looked truly dismal. Water was spouting out 
 of the gutters into the streets. Everything was glistening in 
 the wet, and big streams of water were flowing down the tent 
 canvases. 
 
 But the people were out on pleasure bent, and pleasure 
 they would have. As the shop doors vv'ere opened one could 
 see the red faces within, close to one another in the blue tobacco 
 smoke, and could hear the uproar of loud singing and the 
 stamping of feet. 
 
 Under the projecting canvas of the booths the crowds 
 flocked together, slowly pushing one past the other into the 
 bright light of the lamps. Johannes and his Guide pressed 
 in among them to get out of the rain. 
 
 Johannes was fond of fairs. Always he was glad when 
 the boats arrived in the canal with the timber for the various 
 booths and play-tents; and he looked on eagerly while the 
 flimsy structures — for that one week only — were being put 
 together. This onlooking was an earnest of the strange and 
 fantastic pleasures in store for him. 
 
 He liked the gay and merry pageantry, the foolish inscrip- 
 tions on the merry-go-rounds, the mysterious places behind 
 and between the tents, where the performers lodged; and 
 above all, the tiny, out-of-the-way tents with their natural 
 curiosities, and the strange animals, which seemed so sadly
 
 140 THEQUEST 
 
 out of place in this Dutch world, in their tedious, unvarying 
 captivity, with the reveling crowd around them. 
 
 And every summer he found it just as hard to see the break- 
 ing up of this variegated medley. 
 
 Not that he ever had longed for the Fair when with Winde- 
 kind, but, of all that he had experienced while among human 
 beings, the Fair seemed to him the most delightful. 
 
 And now he was rejoiced at the familiar scene of the booths 
 with their toys; the cakes, layered with rose-colored sugar 
 and inscribed with white lettering; all the shining brass-work 
 of the toy-pistol bazaars; the small tents in lonely places, 
 where brown, smoked eels lay between brass-headed iron 
 bars; the shooting-galleries; the noisy and showy merry-go- 
 rounds. 
 
 Nor did he, for old remembrance' sake, mind the various 
 odors and mal-odors; the smell of cake, of frying fat, and of 
 smoking lamps; nor the strange, mysterious, stable and wild- 
 beast scents that came out of the large exhibition tents. 
 
 The children were running about, as usual, with their red 
 balloons — tooting upon trumpets, and twirling their rattles. 
 The mothers had their skirts over their heads to keep off the 
 rain. Now and then a train of young men and maidens — 
 their caps and hoods askew, or back side before — danced 
 their way through the crowds, with shining, rollicking faces, 
 shouting as they went: "hi! ha! hi! ha!" Then they would 
 calm down, and step one side to look again at the cakes and 
 the knick-knacks. 
 
 As Johannes dearly loved a laugh, he stopped again and 
 again where there was anything funny; at the Punch-and- 
 Judy show, or the antics in front of the circus, of which the 
 peasants are foolishly fond. 
 
 Thus, beside his companion, he stood looking, in the midst 
 of a group of people holding open umbrellas. On all sides 
 he saw staring faces, reddened by the light of the sputtering 
 oil-torch in front of the tent. The people looked stupid, he 
 thought, standing there staring, now and then all bursting
 
 THEQUEST 141 
 
 out together in a laugh when a clown cracked a joke. Painted 
 on the canvas, in front of the tent, he saw ugly pictures of 
 horrible battles between men and tigers — and everywhere, 
 blood! From the balustrade, a monkey was watching the 
 people very seriously. Ever and anon he darted a glance at 
 a boy standing close by, to discover if he meant well or ill by 
 his outstretched hand. 
 
 Behind the little table at the curtained entrance sat a 
 buxom woman dressed in a black silk gown. Her face was 
 round and broad, and her dark, glossy hair was smoothly 
 plastered to her forehead. She was not ugly, but reminded 
 Johannes of the wax dolls in front of the hair-dressers'. 
 
 Suddenly, Johannes heard the ring-master speaking to him; 
 and the people turned their heads round and grinned at him. 
 
 "Come on, young gentleman," said the ring-master, "you 
 must see the show, too! Ask your papa to let you see the 
 show. There are pretty girls here, too — very nice for young 
 gentlemen. Just look here, what pretty girls!" 
 
 Then he pointed to the buxom woman behind the table, 
 who, laughing not a bit, but showing off her rings with their 
 mock jewels, held up the curtain as an invitation to Johannes 
 to enter. And then the ring-master pointed to a pale, slim 
 girl, whose lank hair, light and silky, was combed straight 
 down, and fell below her waist. She stood in front of the tent, 
 dressed in a soiled white suit, spangled with silver. Her 
 skirt was short, and her white tights did not fit well over her 
 long, thin legs. 
 
 "Hello! Come on! Come on!" cried the girl, in a shrill, 
 eager little voice, clapping her hands. 
 
 Ha! How suddenly Johannes' attention was riveted! He 
 experienced a wonderfully strong feeling of tenderness and 
 sympathy as he looked at that pale child. She wore a little 
 silver crown on her hair, which was nearly ash-blonde, and 
 her eyes, also, were light-grey or light-blue, he could not tell 
 which. 
 
 "Would you like to go in ?" asked his Guide.
 
 142 THEQUEST 
 
 Without looking up Johannes nodded his head. They 
 pressed slowly through the people, and Johannes saw that 
 the girl kept looking at him attentively, as if his coming 
 mattered more to her than that of the others. What wonder- 
 ful things entered his head in those few seconds, while press- 
 ing through the packed, ill-smelling crowd, on his way into 
 the tent. He thought of his dead father — and about his 
 own going, now, to an entertainment at a Fair. But, imme- 
 diately, he thought, also, of the great change — his deliver- 
 ance from Pluizer, and that he had not come to the Fair for 
 his own pleasure, like an every-day schoolboy, but that he 
 had now come among people in order to soothe their sorrows, 
 and to make them good and happy. At the same time he 
 felt a strong aversion to that rough, rude, and unsavory throng. 
 And then he looked again at the pale girl who had called to 
 him, and was waiting for him. She was a human being, too, 
 and his whole heart went out to her. She looked so slight, 
 so serious and intelligent. What a life she must have led! 
 And what must she think and feel! 
 
 For an instant he forgot something; namely, whose hand it 
 was he was holding. He had not yet let drop that dear hand, 
 but was not thinking who it was that had been taken for his 
 father, and was leading him into a circus. 
 
 "What is the price?" he heard his Guide ask the young 
 woman, in his deep, serious voice. 
 
 But the pale little girl, who had continued all this time 
 looking at him, cried out in an abrupt, decided tone: "It's 
 Markus!" 
 
 The fat young woman just glanced in silence from the 
 girl to the two visitors, and then struck the table with her 
 plump, white, ring-covered hands, till the money-box jingled. 
 
 "Jerusalem! Is that you Vissie ? W^here did you swim 
 from? And how did you find that kid? Nix to pay! Just 
 step inside. Right here! First row. I'll see you again, 
 presently, eh ?" 
 
 Then she looked straight at Johannes with her black eyes.
 
 THEQUEST 143 
 
 He shrank from that cold, hard, scrutiny. But she laughed 
 in a friendly way and said: 
 
 "How d' do, youngster?" 
 
 Johannes felt the perspiration start, from fright and con- 
 fusion. That exalted being, whom he had seen treading the 
 glowing waters of the sea, whose hand he still retained, to be 
 spoken to in such a manner, by this insignificant creature — 
 as if he were an old acquaintance! Had he utterly lost his 
 senses ? Had he been dreaming, and had he been walking 
 with one or other of the Fair-goers ? 
 
 Not until he had sat awhile, and his heart had ceased to 
 beat so fast, did he venture to lift his eyes — which had taken 
 in nothing of their surroundings — and look up at his 
 Guide. 
 
 The latter had evidently been regarding him for a consider- 
 able time. The first glance sufficed. Johannes saw the 
 selfsame pale face, the selfsame somewhat weary, but clear 
 and steady eyes full of earnest ardor, trustful and begetting 
 trust; bestowing, through their regard alone, rest and solace 
 indescribable. 
 
 But he was an ordinary man — the same as the others. 
 He had on a brown cap with the ear-flaps tied together over 
 the top, and he wore an old faded cloak out of which the rain- 
 water was still trickling down upon the seat. His shoes, mud- 
 covered and water-soaked, stood squarely against each other 
 on the wooden floor. His trousers were frayed out, and had 
 lost all definite color. 
 
 Johannes wanted to speak to him, but his lips trembled so 
 he could not utter a word, and tears coursed down his 
 cheeks. 
 
 All this time they still sat hand in hand. Nothing had been 
 said, but Johannes felt his hand being pressed, while a super- 
 human assurance and encouragement, from out those kindly 
 eyes, gradually penetrated to the depths of his being. 
 
 His Guide smiled, and indicated that he ought to give 
 attention to the performance and to the spectators. Slowly,
 
 144 THEQUEST 
 
 with a long-drawn breath, Johannes turned his eyes thither; 
 but he looked on listlessly and without interest. 
 
 And now and then — whenever he dared — he looked at his 
 Guide; at his wet, shabby clothes; at his hands — not coarse 
 — but oddly rough, and with a blackened thumb and fore- 
 finger; at his pale, patient face, with the hair clinging to the 
 temples. 
 
 The boy's lips began to tremble again, his throat contracted, 
 and irrepressible sobs accompanied the tears. 
 
 When he looked into the sanded ring around which the 
 spectators sat, he saw a large white horse coming in. Upon 
 him stood the pale, fair little girl. She had more color now, 
 and looked much prettier and more graceful. She sprang 
 and knelt upon the big white horse while she enlivened him 
 with her shrill cries. 
 
 It was not merely sympathy and tenderness that moved 
 Johannes now, but something more of admiration and respect; 
 for she seemed no older than himself, and yet she was not in 
 the least timid, but understood her art well. The people 
 clapped loudly, and then she put her slender, delicate hands 
 one by one to her lips, waving them first to the left, then to the 
 right, with self-possessed grace. 
 
 The clown made her a low bow with all kinds of foolish 
 grimaces, and indicated the greatest respect; and she rewarded 
 him with a studied smile, like a princess. Johannes could 
 not take his eyes away from her. 
 
 "Who is that little girl.?" he asked his Guide. "Is she 
 really so lovely ?" 
 
 "Her name is Marjon," said his Guide, "and she is a dear, 
 good child, but too weak for her task." 
 
 "I wish I could do something for her," said Johannes. 
 
 "That is a good boy. We will go to her, presently." 
 
 Johannes did not pay much more attention to the exhibition. 
 His mind was full of the prospective interview with the little
 
 THEQUEST 145 
 
 actress. The world in which she Hved was charming. And 
 she herself seemed, at this moment, the one above all others 
 he most wished to help and benefit. 
 
 After the spectators were gone he went with his Guide 
 between the curtains from behind which the horses had come. 
 In the dimly lighted space where a single lamp was burning, 
 and close to where the breathing and stamping of the horses 
 could be heard, Johannes saw her sitting. She was stooping 
 down to a chest on the top of which were some plates of food, 
 and she still had on her pretty costume. There was no one 
 with her. 
 
 "Good day, Markus," said she, extending her hand to 
 Johannes' Guide. "Who is the little boy?" 
 
 "This is Johannes. He wishes to make your acquaintance, 
 and to do something good for you." 
 
 "Is that so.?" laughed the girl. "Then he might just 
 change my silver quarters into gold." 
 
 Johannes did not know what to say, and was more per- 
 plexed than he remembered ever in his life to have been before. 
 But Marjon looked at him with her large, light, grey eyes, 
 and nodded kindly. 
 
 "Come, little boy, don't be so bashful. Won't you have 
 something to eat? Quick! Before my sister comes! But 
 you ought to stay with us. We are going to Delft this week. 
 Are you going with us, Markus?" 
 
 "It may be," said Markus. "Now, we are only going to 
 try to find a place to sleep in. Johannes can hardly feel 
 hungry. Do you, Johannes?" 
 
 Johannes shook his head. 
 
 "He has had a great sorrow, Marjon; his father has just 
 died." 
 
 Marjon looked at him again, gently and good-naturedly, and 
 then gave him her hand, with the very same, quick gesture of 
 confidence a monkey employs when he recognizes his master. 
 
 "Good-by, till morning," she said, as the two passed out 
 of the rear door of the tent.
 
 146 THEQUEST 
 
 Outside, the moon was shining, and, since the rain had 
 stopped, the Fair-people had become still more jolly and 
 noisy. 
 
 Well, well! How ugly they were! How clumsily they 
 danced, and how badly they sang! The men and womenwere 
 now standing in circles, their arms interlocked, with one 
 another's hoods and caps on, ready to spring into the street, 
 and to shriek out, in their harsh voices, songs without sense or 
 tune. All their faces were wanton, vacant, or downright 
 dissipated, and most of them were flushed with excitement 
 or with drink. 
 
 Johannes saw mothers, too, with infants in their arms, 
 and leading little children by the hand, coming out of the 
 fritter-stalls, dragging themselves along through the crowds. 
 The tavern doors flew open, and the rude Fair-goers 
 bounced outside. Here and there, on the street corners, a 
 fierce quarrel was in progress, with a close ring of onlookers 
 gathered around. Nothing more that was pretty, or nice, 
 or pleasing, was in sight. Everywhere there was raving and 
 ranting and bawling; with a thousand dissonant noises, and 
 a wretched stench. 
 
 The only exception was a squad of six soldiers, passingcalmly 
 and quietly, with regulated step, through the throng, in single 
 file. It was the patrol. Johannes knew it, and it gave him 
 a feeling of rest and contentment, as if there was something 
 else in human beings save rudeness and debauchery; that a 
 little self-restraint and worthiness still remained. 
 
 Up above — beyond that petty tumult — beyond that 
 ruddy flaming and flickering, the moon was shining, silver- 
 white and stately. Johannes looked up longingly. 
 
 He found his task an awful one, and the people worse than 
 he had expected. But of one little being he thought with 
 tenderness; and in her case he would persevere. 
 
 "Let us go to sleep," he begged. 
 
 "Very well," said his Guide, opening a tavern door. 
 
 It was oppressive there, and reeking with the fumes of gin
 
 THEQUEST 147 
 
 and tobacco. They pressed their way through the crowd 
 and went up to the bar. 
 
 "Have you lodgings for us, Vrouw Schimmel?" asked 
 Johannes' Guide. 
 
 " Lodgings ? Well, seeing it's you, Markus. But other- 
 wise not! See? Go now — the two of you!" 
 
 They crept up to a small dark garret, and there received a 
 couple of mattresses which the maid had dragged upstairs; 
 and then they could lie down. 
 
 Johannes lay awake through the clamor and jingling and 
 the stamping of the Fair-goers downstairs until long after 
 the morning light had broken. The day just passed — long 
 as a year, and full of great and weighty matters — was thought 
 over from beginning to end. Serene, open-eyed — quietly, not 
 restlessly, he lay there meditating till morning dawned, and 
 the sunlight, like a red-gold stain, touched the wall above 
 him, and till the din downstairs had subsided and died away. 
 Then he fell asleep, thinking of Marjon — her bright eyes 
 and silver crown.
 
 II 
 
 He was awakened by jovial sounds. There was something 
 hopeful and powerful about and within him when he opened 
 his eyes again, and looked around the close, dark little 
 garret. A column of sunbeams stood slanting from the floor 
 to the little dormer window, and motes were glistening in the 
 light. 
 
 Both out-of-doors, and below him, Johannes heard the 
 women singing, and busily, merrily talking — the way women 
 do mornings as they hurry with their kitchen and door-yard 
 tasks. The rubbish of the day before was thrust aside, and 
 everything was in readiness for a new Fair day. 
 
 Beside him lay his Guide, still calmly sleeping. He had 
 removed nothing but his coat with which he had covered 
 himself, and his shoes which were standing beside the mattress. 
 He was in a profound sleep — his head upon his rolled-up 
 mantle. His curling hair was now dry, and looked dark and 
 glossy, and his cheeks bore a little more color. Johannes 
 gazed attentively at his right hand hanging down from under 
 his coat, over the mattress to the floor. It was a slender, 
 shapely hand, with short-cut nails, but the blackening which 
 Johannes had seen the day before was still there. That stamp 
 of toil could not be washed away. 
 
 Johannes slipped quietly downstairs and went to wash 
 himself at the pump in the courtyard. About him all was 
 cheerful activity — scrubbing and scouring, washing and 
 rinsing. The summer morning was warm and yet fresh. 
 It was a clear and sober world with nothing dreamy or fanci- 
 ful about it. 
 
 The bar-woman poured him out a cup of coff'ee, and asked 
 in a familiar way if his roommate was still sleeping, and how 
 Johannes had met him. 
 
 "Oh, just by chance!" answered Johannes, blushing deeply;
 
 THEQUEST 149 
 
 not only because he was fibbing, but because it was to himself 
 such a delicate and obscure matter, and of such supreme im- 
 portance. 
 
 "Who is he, really ?" he asked, with a feeling of committing 
 treason. 
 
 "Who is he!" re-echoed the mistress, in such a loud voice 
 and with such emphasis that the other women stopped their 
 work and looked up. "Did you hear him? He asks who 
 Markus is!" 
 
 "Do you mean Markus Vis?" asked a slatternly work- 
 girl. 
 
 "Yes, that's who he means!" said the bar-woman. 
 
 The women looked at one another, and then went on again 
 with their splashing and scrubbing. 
 
 "I do not know anything yet," said Johannes, a little more 
 boldly. 
 
 "Neither do we," said the slovenly girl. "Do you. Bet?" 
 
 "I know that he is a darn good fellow," answered Bet. 
 
 "They do say, though, that he is not good," said another 
 work-woman. 
 
 "True, he mav not be good — but good he is, I say," re- 
 torted Bet. 
 
 This sounded a bit obscure, but Johannes understood it 
 perfectly well. 
 
 "He has more sense than all four of you put together," 
 said the bar-woman, indignantly. "I have seen, with my 
 own eyes, how the little daughter of Sannes, the Plumber, 
 who had been given up by as many as four doctors because 
 there was not a ghost of a chance for her, — how she was 
 taken by Markus on his lap, when all the phlegm came loose; 
 and only yesterday, I saw her with her mother, running in 
 front of the booths." 
 
 "And the other day," said the slatternly girl, "when that 
 tall Knelis at the vegetable market was drunk again — you 
 know that common brawler with the white flap on his cap — 
 well, he just took him gently by the wing, home to his old
 
 150 THEOUEST 
 
 woman; and the fellow went along, as meek as a booby tied 
 to his mother's apron-string." 
 
 In this way, one story suggested another, and Johannes 
 soon learned how much his Guide was liked and esteemed 
 among performers, showmen, workmen, day-laborers — yes, 
 even by the shopkeepers and tavern-keepers, although he was 
 a poor customer. 
 
 "What does he really do ? " asked Johannes. 
 
 "Don't you know that?" replied the mistress, astonished. 
 "And yet I thought you were going to be his apprentice. He 
 is a scissors-grinder. His cart stands here, in the shed." 
 
 Johannes felt his heart thumping again, for he heard com- 
 ing the very one of whom they were speaking. He scarcely 
 dared to look at him. But the woman exclaimed: "Good 
 morning, Markus! That's a sly-boots of yours — he doesn't 
 even know what your work is!" 
 
 Quite in his accustomed w^ay Markus said: "Good morn- 
 ing, all! Is there a bowl of coffee for me, too? Well, there 
 is time enough yet to understand about that. One may 
 learn fast enough, turning the wheel." 
 
 "Will he have to turn?" asked the woman. "Then have 
 you no footboard?" 
 
 Markus set his coffee down among the clean drinking- 
 glasses, on a little table, and sat down beside it, while the 
 maid was cutting the slices of bread. 
 
 Then Johannes and he regarded each other with a look 
 full of complete, mutual understanding. In his earnest, 
 musical voice Markus had spoken lightly, and easily, with- 
 out conveying to the others any particular meaning. But 
 that they listened eagerly was apparent. Whenever his voice 
 was heard, others usually stopped speaking; and the least 
 thing he said, in jest or in earnest, was listened to with respect- 
 ful attention. 
 
 "Yes, you see," said Markus, "I still have a cart with a 
 footboard. But nowadays there are much finer ones with
 
 THE QUEST 151 
 
 window-glass upon them, and a big wheel which another has 
 to turn." 
 
 "Gracious!" said the bar-mistress, "so you're getting up 
 in the world, Markus! Sure, you've had a legacy, or a lucky 
 lottery ticket." 
 
 "No, Vrouw Schimmel, but I thought this; your standing 
 is good, of late, and as you have to go to the banker's now, 
 with your money, you might loan me, say, a hundred and 
 fifty guldens, and I'll repay the loan at the rate of a gulden a 
 week. How will that do .f"' 
 
 The woman stopped working and laughed. The mistress 
 laughed, too, and cried: "You're a regular Jew!" and, after 
 having sauntered back and forth a while, she said: 
 
 "All right — begin now and here! Sharpen these knives, 
 and mind you make them sharp as razors!" 
 
 After Markus and Johannes had eaten their bread, the old 
 cart was dragged out of the shed and dusted off, the axles 
 oiled, the rope moistened, and the knives were sharpened. 
 Johannes watched attentively, and saw how swiftly and skil- 
 fully Markus turned and directed the steel until it was sharp 
 and bright, and how the golden fountain of sparks flew over 
 the whizzing wheel. 
 
 Afterward they went together up the street, for it was neces- 
 sary to earn some money. 
 
 Markus stepped slowly wheeling his cart through the 
 sunny streets — alive with people. From time to time his 
 "Scissors to Gri-i-i-nd!" rang out above the tramp of feet and 
 the rattle of wagons, while he looked searchingly right and 
 left to see if there was not some one who had something to be 
 sharpened. Johannes ran ahead, to ring the bells of all the 
 houses, and to bring the knives and scissors out to the 
 cart. 
 
 Johannes did his very best. He felt that only now had life 
 begun in real earnest. For one's bread one must work, and 
 earn money. He had never yet thought about money and
 
 152 THEQUEST 
 
 money-making; but the reality was stern and sobering. Every 
 one around him talked about money and money-getting. 
 Yet his noble Guide, he saw, was poor and shabby — forced 
 to hard and constant labor to keep from starving. Life grew 
 serious indeed. 
 
 They said but little to each other. They were too busy. 
 Johannes enjoyed the work. He felt there was something 
 heroic and important in the fact that he, the young gentleman 
 who had been to a superior school here, was now going around 
 as a scissors-grinder's boy. And when the housemaids, some- 
 what surprised, looked at his neat little suit, he carried it more 
 jauntily. But the meeting with an old schoolmate was full 
 of pain. 
 
 Toward twelve o'clock he grew tired and hungry. In 
 passing by the bakeries he had a feeling now that he had never 
 known before — almost peevishness — as if something had 
 been taken away from him — as if that bread were his by 
 very right. 
 
 Then they came to the circus, where Marjon was. And 
 there she sat, with her dark-eyed sister. Her flaxen hair was 
 now braided and wound around her head. 
 
 Johannes heard the sound of an iron kettle being shaken, 
 and he knew that that meant potatoes. And there was bacon, 
 also, and some boiled vegetables. At first, these things were 
 of prime importance to him. He could think of nothing else 
 until he had eaten — ravenously. Then, rather ashamed, 
 he glanced up. 
 
 They were sitting out-of-doors, in the rear of the tents and 
 the booths, with an awning stretched out over their heads to 
 protect them from the sun, which was shining fiercely and 
 brightly. Close by stood the circus-wagon — painted green, 
 with variegated red and white trimmings. A canary's cage 
 stood upon the platform, between flower-pots, and the yellow 
 bird was singing merrily. 
 
 Johannes thought it fine and good now to be among people. 
 There sat the bright little being with the pale face, the large
 
 THEQUEST 153 
 
 grey eyes, and the ash-blonde hair — braided and wound Hke 
 a diadem about her head. It seemed to Johannes as if a 
 brilliant light streamed out from her; a light which tasted 
 sweet, and smelled sweet also. And could she not ride a 
 horse, and spring through hoops, and with those slender 
 hands throw plates up high, and catch and balance them ? 
 And she looked often at Johannes, and seemed to find him a 
 nice little boy. 
 
 Beside her, calm and serious, his head bent forward, his 
 dark hair curling in his neck, sat Markus, eating. This made 
 him seem to Johannes still more dear and intimate. 
 
 Next, sat Marjon's sister. Johannes felt a little uneasy 
 in her presence. She sat close by him, and ate very audibly. 
 She shoveled food upon Johannes' plate, and now and then 
 patted him on the shoulder, to encourage him to eat. Then 
 she looked at him, kindly enough, but with a cold penetration 
 as if with some fixed purpose. Her eyes seemed almost 
 black, and her glossy hair was as black as ebony. But her 
 skin was waxy white. Whenever she stirred, something in 
 her clothing always creaked, and there was a heavy odor of 
 perfumery about her. 
 
 Beyond Marjon sat the little monkey, watching the move- 
 ments of the steel forks with his sharp, earnest eyes. Occa- 
 sionally Marjon spoke to him, and then he whined in eager 
 expectation of something to eat. 
 
 That quarter of an hour was delightful! Johannes looked 
 repeatedly at Marjon, trying to think who she looked like, and 
 why it seemed as if he must have known her a long time. And 
 he found it pleasant and adorable when she spoke to him, and 
 was as confidential as if with a friend. Yes, he remembered 
 something of that old sensation with Windekind — the feeling 
 of friendship and intimacy. But he could well see that she 
 did not resemble Windekind. He noticed that her nails were 
 not very clean, and admitted that she did make use of coarse 
 and profane language. Yet her speech was not flat, but 
 musical — with a foreign accent; and her bearing was nearly
 
 154 THEQUEST 
 
 always winsome, although she did things considered bad 
 manners — things never permitted him. 
 
 The afternoon which now followed, filled with the same 
 sort of work — continually running back and forth across the 
 sunny streets — seemed hard indeed. At last he could not 
 think any more, and his feet burned fiercely. Sad and per- 
 plexed he sat down on a stone stoop as the shadows grew deeper 
 and cooler, and thought of the gloomy garret where he was 
 again to sleep. 
 
 "Come, Johannes." The day's money is nearly earned, 
 and then we go to Vrouw Schimmel's for our supper." 
 
 "How much have we earned .''" asked Johannes; expecting 
 to hear, to his consolation, of the riches which he had procured 
 by his hard work. 
 
 "Two guldens, forty-seven cents," said Markus. 
 
 "Is that enough V 
 
 "So long as we can sleep for nothing at Vrouw Schimmel's 
 and can eat for nothing at the circus. But we cannot do that 
 every day." 
 
 Johannes felt greatly discouraged. Already so tired, and 
 so little accomplished! Not enough earned yet for one day's 
 support! How would he ever have enough strength left over 
 to help the people ? With his head in his hands he sat staring 
 vacantly at the pavement. 
 
 "Tired ?" asked Markus, gently. Johannes nodded. Mar- 
 kus spoke again: 
 
 "But remember, my boy! This is your first day. It will 
 be easier after you get used to it." 
 
 Johannes lifted his weary, disheartened eyes, and looked at 
 his Guide who was patiently engaged in putting something 
 about the cart-axle to rights. 
 
 "It is not your first day, though, Markus, is it? It can 
 never be any easier for you. And that ought not to be so. 
 It will never do." 
 
 A strange bitterness of thought took possession of Johannes 
 — as if everything were full of fraud and foolishness — as
 
 THEQUEST 155 
 
 if he himself were made a fool of. What sort of fellow 
 was that, with the long hair, the silly old cap, and frayed-out 
 trousers, who sat there, pottering ? 
 
 Markus glanced round and looked at him. Immediately 
 Johannes grew ashamed of his thoughts and felt a deep, over- 
 mastering sorrow and sympathy, that He — He who was 
 standing there before him, was obliged to toil so — in poverty 
 and squalor. 
 
 This time he burst into unrestrained sobs, he was both so 
 tired and so over-excited. Weeping, he could only utter, 
 "Why isit ? I cannot understand. It will never — never! — " 
 
 Markus did not attempt to console him; he meiely said 
 gently but firmly that he must wheel the cart and go home, 
 for people were observing them. 
 
 Johannes went early to bed, and his Guide went with him. 
 The din from below came up to them, as before, and the 
 moon shone brightly into the little garret. The two friends 
 lay upon their hard mattresses, hand in hand, talking together 
 in an undertone. They did not use the careless common- 
 places of every-day speech, but they spoke as Johannes had 
 done with Windekind; — in the old, serious way. 
 
 "When I look at you, my brother, what is it makes me feel 
 so sad.?" asked Johannes. When I see your shabby clothes 
 and blackened hands; v/hen I hear you addressed as comrade 
 by those poor and filthy people; when I see you sharing their 
 hard, unlovely life, then I cannot keep from crying. I am 
 sorry I gave way to my feelings, and attracted attention, but 
 then it is so dreadful!" 
 
 "It is dreadful, Johannes, not on my account, but because 
 of the necessity for it." 
 
 "How can there be any need of your being so plain and 
 sad? Is there anything good in plainness and sadness?" 
 
 "No, Johannes; plainness and sadness are evils. The 
 beautiful and the joyful only are good, and it is they we must 
 seek." 
 
 "But, dear brother, you may be both beautiful and joyful.
 
 156 THEQUEST 
 
 Indeed, what is there you cannot be ? I saw you walking 
 upon the shining waters. That surely was no illusion ?" 
 
 "No, that was no illusion." 
 
 "I saw only your face — not your clothing; only your face, 
 and that was beautiful and noble. And if you can walk upon 
 the sea, then you can, if you wish to, be beautiful and grand 
 and joyful, even among those ugly people." 
 
 "Yes, I can do that also, Johannes, but I will not do it, 
 because I love those plain and sorrowful people. I will do 
 much more, just because so much power has been given me. 
 I will be a brother to them, so that they may learn to know 
 me. 
 
 "Must you, for that reason, be low in station and be sor- 
 rowful ?" 
 
 " I am not of low degree, nor am I sorrowful. My spirits 
 are high and my heart is glad: and because I am so strong I 
 can stoop to those who are lowly and sad, in order that they 
 may attain me, and with me, the Light." 
 
 In the dark — eyes shut close — Johannes nodded his 
 satisfaction, and then fell asleep, his hand still in that of his 
 friend.
 
 Ill 
 
 At the end of the week, the bell rang from noon until one 
 o'clock, to announce the closing of the Fair. The tent can- 
 vases remained fastened down, and the performances were 
 hurriedly broken off. The stakes and boards were loaded 
 upon the boats lying in the canal; and there the wooden lions 
 of the merry-go-rounds made a sorry figure. They bore no 
 resemblance whatever to the lively, furious lions of the day 
 before; and one could hardly tell what had become of all that 
 motley and magnificent array. 
 
 The real, living lions, and the people, in their different 
 vehicles, went up the street, in a long caravan, to the next 
 town where the Fair was to begin anew; for the summer is one 
 long Fair for the Fair-folk. 
 
 Days before, Johannes and Markus had passed through 
 that same street; for with their heavy cart, they would have 
 been unable to keep up with the more rapid, horse-drawn 
 vehicles. The weather remained fine and clear. The walks 
 along the road from village to village, with the excitement of 
 finding work and earning money — the restings on the sunny, 
 grassy wayside — the baths in retired spots — and now 
 and then coffee in the kitchens of the farmhouses — all this 
 was new, pleasant, and stimulating, and Johannes grew light- 
 hearted and merry again. 
 
 Close by the next town the circus overtook them. It was 
 only a mite of a company. The big white horse was drawing 
 the green wagon, and two black-and-white spotted horses 
 were drawing the second one. The ring-master walked 
 beside it, swearing now, not joking, and wearing a very sour 
 face. Then came a couple of men and some loose horses, in 
 the rear. 
 
 Johannes lay in the grass on the lookout for Marjon. There 
 she came, in her hand a big branch of alder leaves, with 
 
 IS?
 
 158 THEQUEST 
 
 which she was brushing away the flies from the white 
 horse. 
 
 She was walking on dreamily, with only an indifferent look 
 at the staring peasant children along the way. But when she 
 saw Johannes, her eyes grew big and bright, and she waved 
 her branch at him. 
 
 He sprang up and ran to her, and she struck at him play- 
 fully with her alder branch. Then, with a sudden charming 
 movement, she gave him a kiss. Johannes kissed her bash- 
 fully in return. The peasant children were astonished, but 
 circus folk are always queer! 
 
 From between the muslin curtains of the little window in 
 the green wagon, Johannes saw two jet-black eyes peeping at 
 him. They were the eyes of Marjon's sister, and they wore a 
 strange smile. 
 
 Johannes and Marjon walked on, hand in hand, chatting 
 busily about the experiences of the past few days. And while 
 Marjon told of her performances — how she had learned her 
 tricks, and how often, too, she had fallen - — he listened as 
 deferentially as if he were being initiated into the mysteries 
 of a princely court or of the national government. 
 
 Walking thus hand in hand beside the white horse, they 
 approached the town. By the wayside, with projecting 
 tea-arbors, and well-planned gardens, stood those low, wide 
 country-seats which are still to be seen in the neighborhood 
 of the towns of Holland. They bear such names as "Rust- 
 oord," * or " Nooit-gedacht," * and make one think of 
 ancient times when the burghers went out to walk, with their 
 Gouda* pipes, and when the fragrant violets still grew upon 
 the ramparts. 
 
 Between the windows of these houses, fastened to a curved 
 iron rod, are little mirrors, in which the inmates, seated by 
 the window, are able to see any one standing on the stoop, 
 or approaching from a distance. They are called " spionnet- 
 jes." The passer-by sees in this glass only the face of the 
 indweller. 
 
 * See note, page 520.
 
 THE QUEST 159 
 
 In one of these little spyglasses Johannes suddenly saw a 
 face that startled him. Yet it was not a frightful counte- 
 nance. It was pale and spectacled, with two stiff "puffs" 
 on each side. A lace cap crowned the whole, with lavender 
 ribbons falling over the ears down to the shoulders. Two 
 very clear, kindly, serious eyes were looking straight at him. 
 Johannes was startled, because he knew the face so well. It 
 was that of his aunt. 
 
 There was no doubt about it — it was Aunt Serena. She 
 had often been to visit at his home, and now Johannes remem- 
 bered the house where she lived. He had even spent the night 
 there. He cast a shy glance toward it. Yes, to be sure! 
 That was the one-story, white stucco house, with the low 
 windows, and the glass doors opening on the garden. He 
 remembered the garden, with the splendid beech-trees. Be- 
 tween the house and the road was a green ditch, and on 
 the fancy iron railing was the name '' Vrede-best." He re- 
 called it all very well now, and it made him uneasy and anxious. 
 
 "What makes you so white, Jo ?" asked Marjon. "Aren't 
 you well ? " 
 
 "An aunt of mine lives there," said Johannes, blushing 
 deeply now. 
 
 "Did she see you ?" asked Marjon, quickly perceiving the 
 significance of the event. 
 
 "She surely did." 
 
 "Don't look round," said Marjon. "Cut around the 
 corner! Can she do anything to you ?" 
 
 Johannes had not thought about that, at all. He owned to 
 himself, that while his Aunt Serena was looking at him, he felt 
 ashamed of being seen with the circus-wagon, but he said 
 nothing, and grasped Marjon's hand again, for he had let it drop. 
 
 Fortunately Markus did not tell him to ask if there was 
 anything at "Vrede-best" to be sharpened. 
 
 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
 
 i6o THEQUEST 
 
 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,
 
 THE QUEST i6i 
 
 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 unhar- 
 nessed, 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. 
 
 Wherever Markus came, things went better. Disputes 
 filled the air, and shocking language was to be heard on every 
 side, even from the lips of the children. But when Markus 
 appeared they calmed down, and threats and quarrels were 
 soon exorcised. Not having been seen in a long while, he 
 was greeted with hearty exclamations of surprise, and with all 
 sorts of questions which he answered jestingly. 
 
 "Hello, Vis! What have you been doing with yourself? 
 Have you been under water?" 
 
 "At court. Dirk Volders. See what a fine present I have 
 brought away." And he pointed out the new cart. 
 
 "Surely, you've been sharpening the coupon-scissors again, 
 haven't you ?" 
 
 "No, the nail-scissors. Dirk, and it's time to do it here." 
 
 Wherever Markus went, a troop of children followed him 
 Without apparent reason, or any expectation of delicacies, 
 always several children tagged untiringly after him, an hour 
 at a time, clinging fast, with their dirty little hands, to a shred 
 of his coat or a fold of his trousers. With earnest faces they 
 listened to his words and watched his movements, quietly
 
 i62 THEQUEST 
 
 managing the while to usurp one another's place at the front. 
 Whoever could catch hold of his coat held on. Wherever he 
 went, the ragged, unwashed little ones, from under wagons 
 and behind boxes, put in an appearance — trotting after, so 
 as to be on hand. There was always a chance of his suddenly 
 throwing himself down and telling a story to a dozen dirty 
 little listeners. Their small mouths, all smeared and stained, 
 were wide open with interest, and their hands, furnished 
 with a bread-crust or an old doll, hung down motionless, 
 as they listened in suspense. And no one had ever surprised 
 Markus in a peevish or impatient word to his troublesome 
 little admirers. Not one of the surly, scolding parents had 
 ever been able to admit to a child that it was naughty enough 
 for Markus, even, to send it away. 
 
 Johannes observed this with great admiration. At first it 
 seemed to him wonderful — supernatural. A whimpering, 
 naughty child became submissive, a troublesome one tractable, 
 and rude, unmannerly, and passionate children went away 
 composed and quiet. And how could any one remain patient 
 under such a continual din, and tagged after by the dirtiest 
 and the worst-behaved children in the world ? But, listening 
 and keenly scrutinizing, Johannes gradually came to under- 
 stand the apparently incomprehensible. It was the power of 
 the interest in them which performed the miracle. There 
 was nothing concerning those neglected little waifs in which 
 Markus did not evidence the keenest interest, and he gave it 
 his fullest attention — sparing no trouble nor exertion. Thus 
 the roving mind of the child was at the same time pacified and 
 restrained, and reduced to a state favorable for guidance. 
 But, however he himself might explain it, the parents who 
 were unable to control their children maintained that Markus 
 had something in his eyes, or in his fingers — a " magic," they 
 called it — by which he ruled the children. And these con- 
 victions grew still more settled through the knowledge of the 
 willing and blessed help he gave to the sick. 
 
 There prevailed among these people a great distrust of
 
 THE QUEST 163 
 
 physicians, and the one grievance they had against Markus 
 was that he too often (according to their views) referred the 
 sick to the doctor and the hospital. " He can do it better 
 himself," they thought. " He surely is afraid of getting into 
 jail." Yet they begrudged the police the satisfaction of seeing 
 him there. But they tried to induce Markus to help them 
 in every illness — even that of a broken bone — without their 
 having recourse to doctor or hospital. In cases where the 
 sick body could do without the relief of costly attendance and 
 technical apparatus, Markus did not refuse to help with his 
 simple expedients. It was said that he was a healer, yet no 
 one had ever seen or heard him pray beside a sick person. 
 He sometimes sat for a long time, deep in thought, by the side 
 of a sufferer who was restless, or in pain. He would lay his 
 hand upon the head, or the affected part, or take the hand of 
 the patient. This he would sometimes do hour after hour, 
 and he seldom left without having reduced the pain and rest- 
 lessness. 
 
 Johannes had already heard this related by Marjon, and 
 now he also saw mothers bringing their crying infants to him 
 for advice, and he gave eager attention to what Markus would 
 say. 
 
 A baby screamed and wriggled like a worm, resisting ve- 
 hemently, for it dreaded the light, and wanted to hide its 
 affected eyes in the mother's arms. But Markus insisted on 
 examining the poor little eyes. They were all stuck together 
 with foulness, and were red and swollen, 
 
 Johannes expected nothing else than that Markus would 
 anoint them and command them to open. But Markus said: 
 
 "That's a loathsome lot of stuff, mother. There is a good 
 eye-clinic in Leyden. But there is also a good one here. Go 
 to it soon — now — to-day. " 
 
 The mother, a strong, bony woman, looked at him through 
 her straggling hair, in an irresolute, dissatisfied way. 
 
 "Curse 'em — those quacks! You do it instead. You 
 can do it just as well."
 
 i64 THEQUEST 
 
 "I'll not do it, mother, positively. And think of it! If 
 you do not go quickly, your child will surely be stark blind. 
 Go! It is your duty to." 
 
 "How is it, Markus ? Can't you do it, or don't you dare to, 
 that you send me off to those murderers ?" 
 
 Markus regarded her several moments, and then said, 
 gently: "Mother, it is your own fault — you know it very 
 well. I may not give you help, but it is not on account of 
 the police. There in the town they will give you good 
 advice. But go now, quickly, or the blindness of your child 
 will be upon your conscience." 
 
 With a sullen look the woman turned away, and Johannes 
 asked in a whisper: "Are these doctors more clever than 
 Markus ?" 
 
 "They know enough for this," said Markus, abruptly.
 
 IV 
 
 In the heat of the afternoon the Fair-folk went to sleep. They 
 lay snoring everywhere — on straw or heaps of rags, in ugly, 
 ungainly postures. But the children continued in motion, 
 and often here and there the sound of their teasing and crying 
 could be heard. 
 
 Johannes strolled around dejectedly. To go and lie calmly 
 down, to sleep between those vile men, as Markus did, was 
 impossible. Rank odors pervaded everything, and he was 
 afraid, too, of vermin. Should he go walk in the town park, 
 or between the sunny polders ? Although he was ashamed to 
 run away, he could not remain in peace. Again that frightful 
 feeling arose, of unfitness for his great task. He was too 
 weak — too sensitive. 
 
 He thought, with a painful longing, of the cool, stately, and 
 peaceful parlors in the houses of the town, with furniture 
 neatly dusted by tidy maids. He thought, too, of Aunt Serena 
 and her pretty, old-fashioned house, and of her large, shady 
 garden, where surely the raspberries were now ripe. 
 
 Strolling moodily along, he came upon the green wagon, and 
 behold, there was Marjon, lying in peaceful sleep. She lay on 
 a shaggy, red-and-yellow horse-blanket, and her lean arms and 
 scrawny neck were bare. She was so still — her knees drawn 
 up and her cheek in her hand — that one could not tell whether 
 she was really sleeping, or lying awake with closed eyes. 
 
 The monkey sat close beside her in the hot sun, contentedly 
 playing with a cocoanut. 
 
 Johannes felt touched, and went to sit down against the wheel 
 of the wagon. Looking intently at the dear little girl, he 
 thought over her troubled, wandering life. 
 
 In thinking of that he forgot his own grief; and from the 
 depths of his discontent he passed over to a mood of tender 
 melancholy full of compassion. And then there awakened in 
 
 i6s
 
 i66 THEQUEST 
 
 him words which he was careful to remember. He thought 
 of a butterfly that he had once seen flying seaward over the 
 strand; and thinking of Marjon he said to himself: 
 
 "Out to the sea a white butterfly passed — 
 It looked at the sunshine, not at the shore; 
 Now it must flutter in every blast, 
 And may rest never more." 
 
 As he repeated those last words he was greatly moved, and 
 tears coursed down his cheeks. He repeated the lines, over 
 and over, adding new ones to them, and ended by losing 
 himself wholly in this sweet play. 
 
 Thus the summer afternoon sped quickly, and Johannes 
 went to the wagon for pencil and paper, to write down the 
 thoughts which had come into his head. He was afraid they 
 might escape. 
 
 "What are you doing.?" asked Marjon, waking up. "Are 
 you sketching meV 
 
 "I am making verses," said Johannes. 
 
 Marjon had to see the verses, and when she had read them 
 she wanted to sing them. Taking from the wagon a zither, 
 she began to hum softly, while trying to find the chords. 
 Johannes waited in suspense. 
 
 At last Marjon found a sad yet fervent melody, that sounded 
 to Johannes like one well known to him of old; and together 
 they sang the song: 
 
 "Out to the sea a white butterfly passed — 
 
 It looked at the sun, but at the shore, never; 
 Now it must flutter in every blast. 
 Nor may rest, ever. 
 
 "Oh, butterfly, little butterfly. 
 
 Seeking everysvhere for your valley fair. 
 Never, ah, never again will you spy 
 
 The shady dell, where sweet flow'rs dwell.
 
 THE QUEST 167 
 
 ** By wild winds driven out to sea, 
 
 Floating on sunshine far from the shore, 
 Evermore she a-wing now must be. 
 And can rest, never. 
 
 "Oh, butterfly, lovely butterfly! 
 
 Through sunny blue, or shadowy grey, 
 Never again shall you descry 
 
 That leafy dell where the roses dwell." 
 
 The children sang it once, twice, three times through; for 
 those who had been awakened listened and asked for a 
 repetition. Like a sudden illumination of sense and soul 
 there came to Johannes the consciousness of having done 
 something good. The poor, vile, neglected people — adults 
 and children — had listened. He had made it, and it had 
 given him happiness; now it seemed also to afford these 
 sorrowful people some pleasure. This made him glad. It 
 was not much, but then he could do something. 
 
 Night came; the air grew cooler, a fresh wind blew in from the 
 sea over the grassy polders, and a rosy mist hungover the dunes. 
 The broad canal along which the camp lay was sparkling in the 
 sunset light. Everywhere noises awoke, and from the town came 
 the twilight sounds of hand-organs and the rattling of carts. 
 
 The Fair-people formed a ring, and, eager for more music, 
 besought Markus to play for them. 
 
 Markus took a harmonica, and played all kinds of tunes. 
 Men and women, squatting down, or prone upon the ground, 
 chin in hand, listened with great earnestness; and when the 
 children, talking or loitering, and paying no attention to the 
 music, came up to their parents, they were impatiently sent off. 
 
 When Markus stopped, a man cried out in a husky voice: 
 "Come, boys, let's sing something — The Song of the Poor 
 Customers." 
 
 Instantly, they all fell in obediently — Markus striking the 
 key-note — and sang the following song:
 
 i68 THE GUEST 
 
 " We coatless wand'rers without land, — 
 We are poor customers. 
 He who more dollars has than wits, — 
 'Tis he may loll around, 
 Tho' high we jump, or low we jump 
 We're bound to lose the game. 
 With empty stomachs we must dance, — 
 Our Ruler is the dollar. 
 
 " In olden times the King was boss, 
 To rack us for our sins ; 
 But now he's only a figure-head. 
 And has his own boss found. 
 Whoever crown, or scepter bears. 
 And gorgeous raiment wears, — 
 Tho' he jump high, or jump less high, 
 He's ruled by the dollar. 
 
 " Before his men the General stands 
 And tells 'em how to kill. 
 The dapper heroes — one and all — 
 Make haste to do his will. 
 Yet, in his 'broidered uniform. 
 The dickens ! what commands he ? 
 Tho' he jump high or jump less high 
 Th' Commander is — The Dollar. 
 
 "Where lies our land ? where spreads our roof? 
 We live by favor, only. 
 To them who have but pelf in pocket 
 We show our arts and tricks. 
 But if at last we come to grief 
 There vet is something for us, — 
 The fill of our mouths, a tasteful cover, 
 And a nook that's all our own.
 
 THEQUEST 169 
 
 When the last word of the song had died away, the husky 
 voice cried: "You might as well say, while you are about it, 
 that the churchyards are emptied out every tenth year." 
 
 "Every twentieth!" cried another. 
 
 "Children," said Markus, setting his instrument upon the 
 ground between his feet, "children, now listen to me. We 
 have been singing of money, and of those who had more 
 money than sense; but have you more sense than money ? 
 What is it you have that is better than either?" 
 
 "Only give me the money," cried the husky voice. 
 
 "And me!" cried the other. 
 
 "I would sooner give money to the monkey, who would 
 throw it into the water, and not get tipsy with it," said Markus. 
 
 "Children," he continued, and gradually Johannes heard 
 that deep ring in his voice, which riveted attention and caused 
 an inner thrill, "where there is gold without sense, there will 
 be misery; and where there is sense, there will be prosperity. 
 For wisdom will not lack for gold. 
 
 "You truly are poor wretches — ill-treated and deceived. 
 
 " But nobody receives what is not his due. So do not rage 
 and curse about it. 
 
 "He who is wise is strong, and cannot be ill-treated. The 
 wise one cannot be deceived. The wise one is good, and 
 neither steals nor lets himself be stolen from. 
 
 "You are weak and foolish; therefore you are deceived. 
 
 "But you cannot help it, poor children. I know it well; 
 for the children suffer because of what parents and grand- 
 parents have done. 
 
 "But yet nobody receives what he does not deserve. 
 
 "We suffer for our parents and grandparents. Do not 
 call that unjust. The wise ones love their parents, and will 
 redeem their wrong-doing. 
 
 "And we can all make amends for what our parents did 
 amiss. Yes, we can make amends to our parents — even 
 now that they are dead. 
 
 "The grave is not a snare, children, for catching soul-
 
 lyo THE GUEST 
 
 birds. Father and mother are living still, and are benefited 
 through our efforts. 
 
 " Make your little ones good, then, for you will have need 
 of them. Yes, those who die like the dumb beasts — like 
 the harlots and drunkards — even they will find good children 
 most needful. 
 
 "And no one can complain who fails of the expiation of the 
 good children, nor is there any one who with their help cannot 
 grow wiser. 
 
 "If two travelers, wandering at night in the cold — the one 
 having wood, the other matches — do not understand each 
 other, both will suffer and be lost in the dark. 
 
 "And if two shipwrecked people have between them a 
 single cocoanut, and one takes the milk and the other the meat, 
 then they both will perish — one from hunger, the other from 
 thirst. 
 
 "So, also, with wisdom; and no one lives upon the earth 
 who can be wise alone." 
 
 Markus' voice rang loud and clear, and it was as still as 
 death in the sultry field, among those ragged people. For a 
 time he was silent, and Johannes was so moved he was softly 
 weeping; although he by no means accurately understood the 
 meaning: of the discourse. 
 
 Finally, the husky voice sounded again, but now more gently: 
 
 "Fll be darned if I can make head or tail of it; but I take 
 it for truth." 
 
 "Children," said Markus, "you are not bound to under- 
 stand, and you are not bound to believe me; but will you, for 
 my sake, remember it, word for word, and teach it to your 
 children .? Then I will be grateful to you." 
 
 Softly rang the voices here and there : " Yes — yes, indeed ! " 
 
 "Will you not play some more?" asked a young girl with 
 large, dark eyes. 
 
 "Yes, I will play, and then you can dance," said Markus, 
 nodding kindly. 
 
 Then he took a violin from one of the musicians and began
 
 THE QUEST 171 
 
 to play for the dancing — such fine music that the promenaders 
 upon the street along the canal stood still, and remained to 
 listen. A magistrate, who often played piano and violin 
 duets with his friend the notary, remarked that there must 
 be a veritable Zigeuner among the Fair-folk, since he only 
 could play in such a manner. 
 
 Then, forming a large circle, the people began to dance. 
 The men, holding the maidens with stiff right arms under the 
 armpits, whirled them around in an awkward, woodeny way. 
 They kept it up until the perspiration streamed from their 
 red, earnest faces. The children and their parents sat around. 
 Occasionally, also, songs were sung. There was a good deal 
 of laughing, and they all enjoyed themselves greatly. 
 
 In the midst of their jollity, two breathless children came 
 running in. The larger was a little girl of eight years, with a 
 dirty little cherub-face, haloed with flaxen ringlets. She had 
 on an old pair of boy's trousers, held up by suspenders, and 
 falling quite down to her little bare feet, so that in running so 
 fast she nearly tripped in them. "The cops!" cried the child, 
 panting, and the little one cried after her: "The cops!" 
 
 Johannes scarcely comprehended the full import of this 
 word; but it had the effect upon the group which the appear- 
 ance of a hawk in the upper air has upon a flock of tomtits, 
 or of sparrows. 
 
 The presence of one or two watchmen, or policemen, on 
 the road in front of the camp was nothing unusual; but now 
 they were coming in greater numbers, and conducted by a 
 dignified oflficial in a black coat, and with a walking-stick and 
 eye-glasses — the mayor, perchance! With that heroic tread 
 which indicates an exalted sense of duty he led his men upon 
 the scene. The music and noisy demonstrations were struck 
 dumb, the dancing stopped, and everybody looked toward 
 the road whence the common danger menaced. Each asked 
 himself who most probably would be the victim; or considered 
 the possibility of a harmless retreat from the neighborhood.
 
 172 THEQUEST 
 
 Johannes alone thought nothing specially about it, not com- 
 prehending the extraordinary concern of the others. 
 
 But, behold! After the policemen and the presumptive 
 mayor had stood a while at the entrance to the camp, asking 
 information, they came straight up to Marjon's wagon. They 
 soon had their eyes on Marjon and Johannes, and Johannes at 
 once felt that the affair concerned himself. He felt wretchedly 
 ashamed, and, although he could not remember any evil deed, 
 he felt as if he certainly must have done something very wrong, 
 and that now the law — the Law, had come to get him, and 
 to punish him. 
 
 ''Jimminy, Johnnie! Now you're in a pickle!" said Mar- 
 jon. "She's got you in a hole." 
 
 "Who?" asked Johannes, all at sea, and turning pale. 
 
 "Well, that furious aunt of yours, of course." 
 
 Johannes heard his name called, and he was requested to 
 go with them. While he was hesitating, in miserable silence, 
 Marjon's sister began scolding, in a sharp voice. 
 
 But the policemen acted as if they did not hear her, and the 
 chief began, in a kindly, admonitory tone: "Young man, you 
 are a minor — you must obey the orders of your family. 
 Here you are not in your own station. Your aunt is a very 
 nice and excellent lady. You will be much better off with her 
 than you are here. Your aunt is influential, and you must 
 do what she says. That is the wisest way." 
 
 In his uncertainty, Johannes looked round at Markus and 
 asked: 
 
 "What shall I do?" 
 
 Gravely, without any consolation in the look he gave 
 him, Markus said: "Do you think, Johannes, that I shall 
 tell you every time what you ought to do ? That would not 
 make you any wiser. Do what seems to you best, and do not 
 be afraid." 
 
 "Come, boy, this isn't a matter of choice," said the gentle- 
 man with the cane. "You can't stay, and that's the end 
 of it."
 
 THEQUEST 173 
 
 And when Johannes started to follow, Marjon threw her- 
 self upon his shoulder, and began to cry. The Fair-people 
 drew together in groups, muttering. 
 
 But Johannes did not cry. He was thinking of his Aunt 
 Serena's tidy house, and of the fresh, spacious chamber with 
 its large bed curtained with green serge, and of the big bed- 
 tassel. 
 
 "Cheer up, Marjon," said he. "I'll not forget you. Good- 
 by till we meet again." 
 
 And with the three officials he went his way to Vrede-best, 
 often turning round to look at the camp, and to wave his hand 
 at the weeping Marjon.
 
 V 
 
 "Well, well, Master Johannes!" said Daatje, the old servant, 
 as she thrust the heated bed-pan between the fresh linen 
 sheets. "Truly, that was a blessed escape for you; like get- 
 ting out of purgatory into paradise — away from those vile 
 people to be with our mistress. That was fortunate, indeed. 
 My! My!" 
 
 Damp sheets are dangerous, even in midsummer, and 
 Daatje had been drilled very strictly by her mistress in caring 
 for the comfort of guests. 
 
 Daatje wore a snow-white cap and a purple cotton gown. 
 Her face was wrinkled, and her hands and arms were still 
 more so. She had been an astonishingly long time in Aunt 
 Serena's service — perhaps forty years — and lost no oppor- 
 tunity clearly to prove to Johannes what an excellent being 
 his aunt was: always polite and kind, always ready to 
 assist, a blessing to the poor, a refuge for every one in the 
 neighborhood, adored by all who knew her, and pure as an 
 angel. 
 
 "She is converted," said Daatje, "yes, truly converted. 
 Ask whoever you please; like her there are not many living." 
 
 Johannes perceived that "converted" meant "very good." 
 According to Daatje, the natural man was not good, and it was 
 necessary for every one to be converted before he was fit for 
 anything. For a long time before falling asleep, while looking 
 around the big, quiet bedroom, Johannes lay thinking over 
 these things. A night-light was spluttering in a glass filled 
 with equal parts of water and oil. As soon as the flame was 
 lighted, behind the milk-white, translucent shade appeared 
 strange, dreamy landscapes — formed by the unequal thick- 
 nesses. 
 
 The chamber had an ancient, musty odor, and all the fur- 
 niture bore an old-fashioned stateliness. There was a queer 
 
 1/4
 
 THEQUEST 175 
 
 pattern upon the green bed-curtains, distressing to see; like 
 half-opened eyes, alternately squinting. The big bed-tassel 
 hung down from above in dogged dignity, like the tail of a 
 lion keeping watch up above, on the canopy of the four- 
 poster. 
 
 Johannes felt very comfortable, yet there was something 
 uncanny around him that he did not quite relish. Once, it 
 really seemed to be the ponderous linen-chest of dark wood, 
 with its big, brass-handled drawers, upon which stood, under a 
 bell-glass, a basket filled with wax fruit. What the pictures 
 represented could not be seen in the dim light, but they were 
 in the secret too, as was also the night-stand with its crocheted 
 cover, and the fearfully big four-poster. 
 
 Every half-hour "Cuckoo! Cuckoo!" rang through the 
 house, as if those out in the hall and in the vestibule were 
 also in the secret; the only one left out being the little fel- 
 low in clean underclothes and a night-gown much too big 
 for him, who lay there, wide awake, looking around him. In 
 the midst of all these solid, important, and dignified things, 
 he was a very odd and out-of-place phenomenon. He felt 
 that, in a polite way, he was being made sport of. Besides, it 
 remained to be seen whether, after his more or less unmannerly 
 adventures, he could ever be taken into confidence. Evi- 
 dently the entire house was, if not precisely hostile, yet in a 
 very unfriendly attitude. He kept his eye upon the bed-tassel, 
 all ready to see the lion wag his tail. In order to do that, 
 however, he must surely first become "converted," just like 
 Aunt Serena. 
 
 When the day dawned, this new life became more pleasant 
 than he had anticipated. Aunt Serena presided at the break- 
 fast, which consisted of tea, fresh rolls, currant buns, sweet, 
 dark rye-bread, and pulverized aniseed. Upon the pier-tables, 
 bright with sunshine, stood jars of Japanese blue-ware, filled 
 with great, round bouquets of roses, mignonette, and varie- 
 gated, ornamental grasses. The long glass doors stood open, 
 and the odor of new-mown grass streamed in from the garden
 
 176 THEQUEST 
 
 to the room, which was already deliciously fragrant with the 
 roses and mignonette, and the fine tea. 
 
 Aunt Serena made no allusion to the foregoing day, nor to 
 the death of Johannes' father. She was full of kindly atten- 
 tions, and interrogated him affably, yet in a very resolute 
 manner, concerning what he had learned at school, and asked 
 who had given him religious instruction. It was now vaca- 
 tion time, and he might rest a little longer, and enjoy himself; 
 but then would come the school again and the catechism. 
 
 Until now Johannes had had small satisfaction out of his 
 solemn resolution to value men more highly in order to live 
 with them in a well-disposed way. But this time he was more 
 at ease. The nice, cool house, the sunshine, the sweet smells, 
 the flowers, the fresh rolls, everything put him in good humor; 
 and when Aunt Serena herself was so in harmony with her 
 surroundings, he was soon prepared to see her in the light of 
 Daatje's glorification. He gazed confidingly into the gleam- 
 ing glasses of her spectacles, and he also helped her carry the 
 big, standing work-basket, out of which she drew the bright- 
 colored worsteds for her embroidery — a very extensive and 
 everlasting piece of work. 
 
 But the garden! It was a wonder — the joy of his new life. 
 After being released by his aunt until the hour for coffee, he 
 raced into it like a young, unleashed hound — hunting out all 
 the little lanes, paths, flower-plots, arbors, knolls, and the 
 small pool; and then he felt almost as if in Windekind's realm 
 again. A shady avenue was there which made two turns, 
 thus seeming to be very long. There were paths between 
 thick lilac-bushes already in bloom; and there were mock- 
 oranges, still entirely covered with exceedingly fragrant white 
 flowers. There was a small, artificial hill in that garden, with 
 a view toward the west, over the adjacent nursery. Aunt 
 Serena was fond of viewing a fine sunset, and often came to 
 the seat on the hilltop. There was a plot of roses, very fragrant, 
 and as big as a plate. There were vivid, fiery red poppies
 
 THEQUEST 177 
 
 with woolly st»ems, deep blue larkspurs, purple columbines, 
 tall hollyhocks, like wrinkled paper, with their strange, strong 
 odor. There were long rows of saxifrage, a pair of dark 
 brown beeches; and everywhere, as exquisite surprises, fruit 
 trees — apples, pears, plums, medlars, dogberries, and hazel- 
 nuts — scattered among the trees which bore no fruit. 
 
 Indeed, the world did not now seem so bad, after all. A 
 human being — a creature admirably and gloriously perfect 
 — a human dwelling filled with attractive objects, and, close 
 beside, a charming imitation of Windekind's realm, in which 
 to repose. And all in the line of duty, with no departure from 
 the prescribed path. Assuredly, Johannes had looked only 
 on the dark side of life. To confess this was truly mortifying. 
 
 Towards twelve o'clock Daatje was heard in the cool 
 kitchen, noisily grinding coffee, and Johannes ventured just a 
 step into her domain, where, on all sides, the copper utensils 
 were shining. In a little courtyard, some bird-cages were 
 hanging against the ivy-covered walls. One large cage con- 
 tained a skylark. He sat, with upraised beak and fixed gaze, 
 on a little heap of grass. Above him, at the top of the cage, 
 was stretched a white cloth. 
 
 "That's for his head," said Daatje, "if he should happen 
 to forget he was in a cage, and try to fly into the air." 
 
 Next to this, in tiny cages, were finches. They hopped 
 back and forth, back and forth, from one perch to another. 
 That was all the room they had; and there they cried, "Pink! 
 Pink!" Now and then one of them would sing a full strain. 
 Thus it went the whole day long. 
 
 "They are blind," said Daatje. "They sing finer so." 
 
 "Why?" asked Johannes. 
 
 "Well, boy, they can't see, then, whether it is morning or 
 evening, and so they keep on singing." 
 
 "Are you converted, too, Daatje?" asked Johannes. 
 
 "Yes, Master Johannes, that grace is mine. I know where 
 I'm going to. Not many can say that after me." 
 
 " Who besides you ? "
 
 1^8 THEQUEST 
 
 "Well, I, and our mistress, and Dominie Kraalboom." 
 "Does a converted person keep on doing wrong?" 
 "Wrong? Now I've got you! No, indeed! I can do no 
 more wrong. It's more wrong even if you stand on your 
 head to save your feet. But don't run through the kitchen 
 now with those muddy shoes. The foot-scraper is in the yard. 
 This is not a runway, if you please." 
 
 The luncheon was not less delicious: fresh, white bread, 
 smoked beef, cake and cheese, and very fragrant coffee, whose 
 aroma filled the entire house. Aunt Serena talked about 
 church-going, about the choosing of a profession, and about 
 pure and honest living. Johannes, being in a kindly mood, 
 and inclined to acquiescence, avoided argument. 
 
 In the afternoon, as he sat dreaming in the shady avenue of 
 lindens. Aunt Serena came bringing a tray, bearing a cooky 
 and a glass of cherry-brandy. 
 
 At half-past five came dinner. Daatje was an excellent 
 cook, and dishes which were continually recurring on stated 
 days were particularly well prepared. Vermicelli soup, with 
 forced-meat balls, minced veal and cabbage, middlings pud- 
 ding with currant juice: that was the first meal, later often 
 recalled. Aunt Serena asked a blessing and returned thanks, 
 and Johannes, with lowered eyes and head a little forward, 
 appeared, from the movement of his lips, to be doing a little 
 of the same thing. 
 
 Through the long twilight. Aunt Serena and Johannes sat 
 opposite each other, each one in front of a reflector. Aunt 
 Serena was thrifty, and, since the street lantern threw its light 
 into the room, she was not in a hurry to burn her own oil. 
 Only the unpretending little light for rhe making of the tea 
 was glimmering behind the panes of milk-white glass — with 
 landscapes not unlike those upon the night-light. 
 
 In complete composure, with folded hands, sat Aunt Serena 
 in the dusk, making occasional remarks, until Daatje came 
 to inquire "if the mistress did not wish to make ready for the
 
 THEQUEST 179 
 
 evening." Then Daatje wound up the patent lamp, causing 
 it to give out a sound as if it w^ere being strangled. A 
 quarter of an hour later it was regulated, and, as soon as the 
 cozy, round ring of light shone over the red table-cover, Aunt 
 Serena said, in the most contented way: "Now we have the 
 dear little lamp again!" 
 
 At half-past ten there was a sandwich and a glass of milk 
 for Johannes. Daatje stood ready with the candle, and, 
 upstairs, the night-light, the chest of drawers with the wax 
 fruit, the green bed-curtains, and the impressive bed-tassel 
 were waiting for him. Johannes also descried something 
 new — a big Bible — upon his night-table. There was no 
 appearance yet of any attempt at a reconciliation on the part 
 of the furniture. The cuckoo continued to address himself 
 exclusively to the stilly darkness, in absolute disregard of 
 Johannes; but the latter did not trouble himself so very 
 much about it, and soon fell fast asleep. 
 
 The morning differed but little from the foregoing one. 
 Some Bibles were lying ready upon the breakfast-table. Daatje 
 came in, took her place majestically, folded her half-bare 
 wrinkled arms — and Aunt Serena read aloud. The day be- 
 fore, Aunt Serena had made a departure from this, her custom, 
 uncertain how Johannes would take it ; but, having found the 
 boy agreeable and polite, she intended now to resume the read- 
 ings. She read a chapter of Isaiah, full of harsh denunciations 
 which seemed to please Daatje immensely. The latter wore a 
 serious look, her lips pressed close together, occasionally nod- 
 ding her head in approval, while she sniffed resolutely. Jo- 
 hannes found it very disconcerting, and could not, with his 
 best endeavors, keep his attention fixed. He was listening to 
 the twittering of the starlings on the roof, and the cooing of a 
 wood-dove in the beech tree. 
 
 In front of him he saw a steel engraving, representing a 
 young woman, clad in a long garment, clinging with out- 
 stretched arms to a big stone cross that stuck up out of a 
 restless waste of waters. Rays of light were streaming down
 
 i8o THEQUEST 
 
 from above, and the young person was looking trustfully up 
 into them. The inscription below the engraving read, "The 
 Rock of Ages," and Johannes was deep in speculation as to 
 how the young lady had gotten there, and especially how she 
 was to get away from there. It was not to be expected that 
 she could long maintain herself in that uncomfortable position 
 
 — surely not for ages. That refuge looked like a peculiarly 
 precarious one; unless, indeed, something better might be 
 done with those rays of light. 
 
 Upon the same wall hung a motto, drawn in colored letters, 
 amid a superfluity of flowers and butterflies, saying: "The 
 Lord is my Shepherd. I shall not want." 
 
 This awakened irreverent thoughts in Johannes' mind. 
 When the Bible-reading was over, he was suddenly moved 
 to make a remark. 
 
 "Aunt Serena," said he, conscious of a rising color, and 
 feeling rather giddy on account of his boldness, "is it only 
 because the Lord is your Shepherd that you do not lack for 
 anything ?" 
 
 But he had made a bad break. 
 
 Aunt Serena's face took on a severe expression, and adjust- 
 ing her spectacles somewhat nervously, she said: "I willingly 
 admit, dear Johannes, that in many respects I have been 
 blessed beyond my deserts; but ought not you to know — you 
 who had such a good and well-informed father — that it is 
 very unbecoming in young people to pass judgment, thought- 
 lessly, upon the lives of older ones, when they know nothing 
 either of their trials or of their blessings V 
 
 Johannes sat there, deeply abashed, suddenly finding him- 
 self to be a silly, saucy boy. 
 
 But Daatje stood up, and in a manner peculiarly her own 
 
 — bending a little, arms akimbo — said, with great em- 
 phasis: "/'// tell you what, mistress! you're too good. He 
 ought to have a spanking — on the bare spanking place, too!" 
 And forthwith she went to the kitchen.
 
 VI 
 
 There were regularly recurring changes in Aunt Serena's 
 life. In the first place, the going to church. That was the 
 great event of the week; and the weekly list of services and of 
 the officiating clergymen was devoutly discussed. Then the 
 lace cap, with its silk strings, was exchanged for a bonnet 
 with a gauze veil; and Daatje was careful to have the church 
 books, mantle, and gloves ready, in good reason. Nearly 
 always Daatje went also; if not, then the sermon was repeated 
 to her in detail. 
 
 Johannes accompanied his aunt with docility, and tried, 
 not without a measure of success, to appreciate the discourse. 
 
 The visits of Minister Kraalboom were not less important. 
 Johannes saw, with amazement, that his aunt, at other times 
 so stately and estimable, now almost humbled herself in rev- 
 erent and submissive admiration. She treated this man, in 
 whom Johannes could see no more than a common, kindly 
 gentleman, with a head of curling grey hair, and with round, 
 smoothly shaven cheeks, as if he belonged to a higher order 
 of beings; and the adored one accepted her homage with 
 candid readiness. The most delicious things the aunt had, 
 in fine wines, cakes, and liqueurs, were set before him; and, 
 as the minister was a great smoker, Daatje had a severe 
 struggle with herself after every visit, between her respect for 
 the servant of the Lord and her detestation of scattered ashes, 
 stumps of cigars, and tobacco-smelling curtains. 
 
 Once a week there was a "Krans," or sewing circle, and 
 then came Aunt Serena's lady friends. They were more or 
 less advanced in years, but all of them very unprepossessing 
 women, among whom Aunt Serena, with her erect figure and 
 fine, pale face, made a very good appearance; and she was 
 clearly regarded as a leader. Puff-cakes were offered, and 
 warm wine or "milk-tea" was poured. The aim of the 
 
 i8i
 
 i82 THEQUEST 
 
 gatherings was charitable. Talking busily, the friends made 
 a great many utterly useless, and, for the most part, taste- 
 less, articles: patchwork quilts, anti-macassars, pin-cushions,, 
 flower-pot covers, picture frames of dried grasses, and all that 
 sort of thing. Then a lottery, or "tombola,"* as it was called, 
 was planned for. Every one had to dispose of tickets, and the 
 proceeds were given, sometimes to a poor widow, sometimes 
 to a hospital, but more often, however, to the cause of 
 missions. 
 
 On such evenings Johannes sat, silent, in his corner, with 
 one of the illustrated periodicals of which his aunt had a large 
 chestful. He listened to the conversation, endeavoring to 
 think it noble and amiable; and he looked, also, at the trifling 
 fingers. No one interfered with him, and he drank his warm 
 wine and ate his cake, content to be left in peace; for he felt 
 attracted toward none of the flowers composing this human 
 wreath. 
 
 But Aunt Serena did not consider her duty accomplished 
 in these ways alone. She went out from them to busy herself 
 in parish calls on various households — rich as well as poor 
 — wherever she thought she could do any good. It was a 
 great satisfaction to Johannes when, at his request that he be 
 allowed to go with her, she replied: "Certainly, dear boy; why 
 not.?" 
 
 Johannes accompanied her this first time under great ex- 
 citement. Now he was going to be initiated into ways of 
 doing and being good. This was a fine chance. 
 
 So they set out together, Johannes carrying a large satchel 
 containing bags of rice, barley, sugar, and split peas. For 
 the sick there were jars of smoked beef and a flask of wine. 
 
 They first went to see Vrouw Stok, who lived not far away, 
 in French Lane. Vrouw Stok evidently counted upon such a 
 visit, and she was extremely voluble. According to her state- 
 ments, one would say that no nobler being dwelt upon earth 
 than Aunt Serena, and no nicer, more grateful, and contented 
 
 * Lottery-Fair.
 
 THEQUEST 183 
 
 creature than Vrouw Stok. And Dominie Kraalboom also 
 was lavishly praised. 
 
 After that, they went to visit the sick, in reeking little rooms 
 in dreary back streets. And everywhere they met with re- 
 iterations of gratitude and pleasure from the recipients, to- 
 gether with unanimous praising of Aunt Serena, until Johannes 
 several times felt the tears gather in his eyes. The barley 
 and the split peas were left where they would be of use, as 
 were also the wine and the jars of smoked beef. 
 
 Johannes and his aunt returned home very well pleased. 
 Aunt Serena was rejoiced over her willing and appreciative 
 votary, and Johannes over this well-conducted experiment 
 in philanthropy. If this were to be the way, all would be well. 
 In a high state of enthusiasm he sped to the garden to dream 
 away the quiet afternoon amid the richly laden raspberry- 
 bushes. 
 
 "Aunt Serena," said Johannes, at table that noon, "that 
 poor boy in the back street, with the inflamed eyes and that 
 ulcerated leg — is he a religious boy?" 
 
 "Yes, Johannes, so far as I know." 
 
 "Then is the Lord his Shepherd, too?" 
 
 "Yes, Johannes," said his aunt, more seriously now, having 
 in mind his former remark. But Johannes spoke quite inno- 
 cently, as if deep in his own thoughts. 
 
 "Why is it, then, that he lacks so much? He has never 
 seen the dunes nor the ocean. He goes from his bed to his 
 chair, and from his chair to his bed, and knows only that 
 dirty room." 
 
 "The Lord knows what is good for us, Johannes. If he is 
 pious, and remains so, sometime he will lack for nothing." 
 
 "You mean when he is dead ? . . . But, Aunt Serena, if I 
 am pious I shall go to heaven, too, shall I not?" 
 
 "Certainly, Johannes," 
 
 "But, Aunt Serena, I have had a fine time in your 
 home, with raspberries and roses, and delicious things to 
 eat, and he has had nothing but pain and plain living. Yet
 
 i84 THEQUEST 
 
 the end is the same. That does not seem fair, does it, Aunt 
 Serena ?" 
 
 "The Lord knows what is good for us, Johannes. The 
 most severely tried are to Him the best beloved." 
 
 "Then, if it is not a blessing to have good things, we ought 
 lo long for trials and privations ?" 
 
 "We should be resigned to what is given us," said Aunt 
 Serena, not quite at her ease. 
 
 "And yet be thankful only for all those delicious things? 
 Althouo;h we know that trials are better?" 
 
 Johannes spoke seriously, without a thought of irony, and 
 Aunt Serena, glad to be able to close the conversation, 
 replied: 
 
 "Yes, Johannes, always be thankful. Ask the dominie 
 about it." 
 
 Dominie Kraalboom came in the evening, and, as Aunt 
 Serena repeated to him Johannes' questions, his face took on 
 the very same scowl it always wore when he stood up in the 
 pulpit; his wry mouth rolled the rs, and, with the emphasis 
 of delightful certainty, he uttered the following: 
 
 "My dear boy, that which you, in your childlike simplicity, 
 have asked, is — ah, indeed — ah, the great problem over 
 which the pious in all ages have pondered and meditated — 
 pondered and meditated. It behooves us to enjoy gratefully, 
 and without questioning, what the good Lord, in His eternal 
 mercy, is pleased to pour out upon us. We should, as much 
 as lies in our power, relieve the afflictions that He allots to 
 others, and at the same time teach the sufferers to be resigned 
 to the inevitable. For He knows what we all have need of, 
 and tempers the wind to the shorn lamb." 
 
 Then said Johannes: "So you, and Aunt Serena, and I, 
 have a good time now, because we have no need of all 
 that misery ? And that sick boy does need it ? Is that it, 
 Dominie ?" 
 
 "Yes, my dear boy, that is it." 
 
 "And has Daatje, too, need of privations? Daatje said
 
 THEQUEST 185 
 
 that she was converted as completely as you and Aunt Serena 
 were. 
 
 "Daatje is a good, pious soul, entirely satisfied with what 
 the Lord has apportioned her." 
 
 "Yes, Dominie; but," said Johannes, his voice trembling 
 with his feeling, "I am not converted yet, not the least bit, 
 I am not at all good. Why, then, have I so much more given 
 me than Daatje has ? Daatje has only a small pen, up in the 
 garret, while I have the big guest-room; she must do the scrub- 
 bing and eat in the kitchen, while I eat in the house and get 
 many more dainties. And it is not the Lord who does that, 
 but Aunt Serena." 
 
 Dominie Kraalboom threw a sharp glance at Johannes, and 
 drank in silence, from his goblet of green glass, the fragrant 
 Rhine wine. Aunt Serena looked, with a kind of suspense, at 
 the dominie's mouth, expecting the forthcoming oracle to 
 dissipate all uncertainty. 
 
 When the dominie spoke again, his voice was far less kindly. 
 He said: "I believe, my young friend, that it was high time 
 your aunt took you home here. Apparently, you have been 
 exposed to very bad influences. Accustom yourself to the 
 thought that older and wiser people know, better than your- 
 self, what is good for you; and be thankful for the good things, 
 without picking them to pieces. God has placed each one in 
 his station, where he must be active for his own and his fellow- 
 creatures' salvation." 
 
 With a sigh of contentment, Aunt Serena took up her 
 embroidery again. Johannes was frightened at the word 
 "picking," which brought to mind an old enemy — Pluizer. 
 Dominie Kraalboom hastened to light a fresh cigar, and to 
 begin about the "tombola." 
 
 That night, in the great bed, Johannes lay awake a long 
 while, uneasy and restless. His mind was clear and on the 
 alert, and he was in a state of expectancy. Things were not 
 going right, though. Something was the matter, but he knew
 
 i86 THEOUEST 
 
 not what. The furniture, in the still night-time, wore a hos- 
 tile, almost threatening air. The call of the cuckoo spelled 
 mischief. 
 
 About three or four o'clock, when the night-light had sput- 
 tered and gone out, he lay still wider awake. He was looking 
 at the bed-cord, which, bigger and thicker than ordinary, was 
 growing ominously visible in the first dim light. 
 
 Suddenly — as true as you live — he saw it move! A 
 slight quiver — a spasmodic, serpentine undulation, like the 
 tail of a nervous cat. 
 
 Then, very swiftly and without a rustle, he saw a small 
 shadow drop down the bed-cord. Was it a mouse ? 
 
 After that he heard a thin little voice: 
 
 "Johannes! Johannes!" 
 
 He knew that voice. He lifted up his head and took a 
 good look. 
 
 Seated upon the bed-tassel, astride the handle, was his old 
 friend Wistik. 
 
 He was the same old Wistik, looking as important as ever; 
 yes, his puckered little face wore a peculiar, almost frightened 
 expression of suspense. He was not wearing his little acorn- 
 cup, but a smart cap that appeared black in the twilight. 
 
 "I have news for you," cried Wistik. "A great piece of 
 news. Come with me, quick!" 
 
 "How do you do, Wistik?" whispered Johannes. He lay 
 cozily between the sheets, and was glad to see his friend again. 
 Let the chest of drawers and the cuckoo be as disagreeable as 
 they wanted to, now; here was his friend again. "Must I go 
 with you ? How can I ? Where to ?" 
 
 "This way — up here with me," whispered Wistik. "I 
 have found something. It will make you open your eyes. 
 Just give me your hand. That's the best way. You can 
 leave your body lying here while you are away." 
 
 ^' That will be a fine sight," said Johannes. 
 
 But it happened without any trouble. He put out his hand, 
 and in a twinkling he was sitting beside Wistik, on the bed-
 
 THEQUEST 187 
 
 tassel. And truly, as he looked down below, there he saw 
 his body lying peacefully fast asleep. A ray of light streamed 
 into the room, through the clover-leaf opening in the blinds, 
 and lighted up the sleeping head. Johannes thought it an 
 extremely pretty sight, and himself still a really nice boy as he 
 lay there among the pillows, with his dark curly hair about 
 the slightly contracted brows. 
 
 "Do you believe that I am very bad, Wistik?" said he, 
 looking down upon himself. 
 
 "No," said Wistik, "we must never fib to each other. 
 Neither am I bad; not a bit. I have found that out now, 
 positively. Oh, I have discovered so much since we last met! 
 But we must not admire ourselves on that account. That 
 would be stupid. Come, now, for we have not much time." 
 
 Together they climbed up the bed-cord. It was easy work, 
 for Johannes was light and small, and he climbed nimbly up 
 the shaggy rope. But it felt warm, and hairy, and alive in 
 his hands! 
 
 Up they worked themselves, through the folds of the canopy. 
 But the bed-cord did not end there. Oh, no! It went on 
 farther and grew bigger and bigger, and then. . . . What 
 they came to, I will tell you in the following chapter.
 
 VII 
 
 It was, indeed, a real lion's tail, and not a bed-cord. 
 
 Johannes and Wistik were now sitting on the very back of 
 the mighty beast. Above them it was all dark, but out in 
 front — away where the lion was looking — the daylight could 
 be seen. 
 
 They let themselves down cautiously to the ground. They 
 were in a large cave. Johannes saw streaks of water glisten- 
 ing along the rocky walls. 
 
 Gently as they tried to slip past the monster, he yet dis- 
 covered them, and turned his shaggy head around, watching 
 them distrustfully. 
 
 "He will not do anything," said Wistik. And the lion 
 looked at them as if they were a pair of flies, not worth eat- 
 ing up. 
 
 They passed on into the sharp sunlight outside, and, after 
 several blinding moments, Johannes saw before him a wide- 
 spread, glorious mountain view. 
 
 They were standing on the slope of a high, rocky mountain. 
 Down below, they saw deep, verdant valleys, whence the sound 
 of babbling brooks and waterfalls ascended. 
 
 In the distance was the dazzling, blinding glitter of sun- 
 shine upon a sea of deepest, darkest blue. They could see 
 the strand, and every now and then it grew white with the 
 combing surf. But there was no sound; it was too far away. 
 
 Overhead, the sky was clear, but Johannes could not see 
 the face of the sun. It was very still all around, and the blue 
 and white flowers among the rocks were motionless. Only 
 the rushing of the water in the valleys could be heard. 
 
 "Now, Johannes, what do you say to this? It is more 
 beautiful than the dunes, is it not ?" said Wistik, nodding his 
 head in complete satisfaction. 
 
 Johannes was enchanted at the sight of that vast expanse
 
 THEQUEST 189 
 
 before him, with the rocks, the flowers, the ravines, and 
 the sea. 
 
 "Oh, Wistik, where are we?" asked he, softly, enraptured 
 with the view, 
 
 "My new cap came from here," said Wistik. 
 
 Johannes looked at him. The pretty cap that had appeared 
 black in the twilight proved to be bright red. It was a Phry- 
 gian cap. 
 
 "Phrygia ?" asked Johannes, for he knew the name of those 
 caps well. 
 
 "Maybe," said Wistik. "Is not this a great find? And 
 I know, too , . ." Here he spoke in whispers again, very 
 importantly, behind the back of his hand, in Johannes' ear: 
 "Here they know something more about the little gold key, 
 and the book, which we are both trying to find." 
 
 "Is the book here?" asked Johannes. 
 
 "I do not know yet," said Wistik, a trifle disturbed. "I did 
 not say that, but the people know about it — that is certain." 
 
 "Are there people here?" 
 
 "Certainly there are. Human beings, and elves, and all 
 kinds of animals. And they know all about it." 
 
 "Is Windekind here, too, Wistik?" 
 
 "I do not doubt it, Johannes, but I have not seen him yet. 
 Shall we try to find him ?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, Wistik! But how are we going to get down 
 there? It is too steep. We shall break our necks." 
 
 "No, indeed, if only you are not afraid. Just let yourself 
 float. Then you will be all right." 
 
 At first Johannes did not dare. He was wide awake, not 
 dreaming; and if any one wide awake were to throw himself 
 dow^n from a high rock, he would meet his death. If one were 
 dreaming, then nothing would happen. If only he could 
 know, now, whether he was awake or dreaming! 
 
 "Come, Johannes, we have only a little time." 
 
 Then he risked it, and let himself drift downward. And 
 it was splendid — so comfortable! He floated gently down
 
 190 THEQUEST 
 
 through the mild, still air, arms and legs moving as in swim- 
 ming. 
 
 "Is it only a dream, then ?" he asked, looking down atten- 
 tively at the beautiful, blooming world below him. 
 
 "What do you mean .?" asked Wistik. "You are Johannes, 
 just the same, and what you see, Johannes sees. Your body 
 lies asleep, in Vrede-best, at your aunt's. But did you ever 
 in the daytime see anything so distinct as this ?" 
 
 "No," said Johannes. 
 
 "Well, then, you can just as well call your Aunt Serena 
 and Vrede-best a dream — just as much as this." 
 
 A large bird — an eagle — swept around in stately circles, 
 spying at them with its sharp, fierce eyes. 
 
 Below, in the dark green of the valley, a small white temple, 
 with its columns, was visible. Close beside it a mountain 
 stream tumbled splashing down below. Still and straight as 
 arrows, tall cypresses, with their pale grey trunks and black- 
 green foliage, encircled it. A fine mist rose up from the 
 splashing water, and, crowned with an exquisite arc of color, 
 remained suspended amidst the glossy green myrtle and 
 magnolia. Only where the water spattered did the leaves 
 stir; elsewhere everything was motionless. 
 
 But over all rang the warbling and chattering of birds, from 
 out the forest shade. Finches sang their fullest strains, and 
 the thrushes fluted their changeful tune, untiringly. 
 
 But listen! That was not a bird! That was a more 
 knowing, more cordial song; a melody that said something — 
 something which Johannes could feel, like the words of a 
 friend. It was a reed, played charmingly. No bird could 
 sing like that. 
 
 "Oh, Wistik, who is playing? It is more lovely than 
 blackbird or nightingale." 
 
 "Pst!" said Wistik, opening his eyes wide. "That is only 
 the flute, yet. By and by you will hear the singing." 
 
 They sank down upon a mountain meadow, in a wide 
 valley. The limpid, bkic-grcen rivulet flowed through the
 
 THE QUEST 191 
 
 sunny grass-plot, between blood-red anemones, yellow and 
 white narcissi, and deep purple hyacinths. On both sides 
 of it were thick, round azalea-bushes, entirely covered with 
 fragrant, brick-red flowers. White butterflies were fluttering 
 back and forth across it. On the other side rose tall laurel, 
 myrtle, olive, and chestnut trees; and still higher the cedars 
 and pines — half-way up the mountain wall of red-grey 
 granite. 
 
 It was so still and peaceful and great blue dragon-flies with 
 black wings were rocking on the yellow narcissus flowers 
 nodding along the stream. 
 
 Then Johannes saw a fleeing deer, springing up from the 
 sod in swift, sinewy leaps; then another, and another. 
 
 The flute-playing sounded close by, but now there was 
 singing also. It came from a shady grove of chestnut trees, 
 and echoed gloriously from mountain-side to mountain-side, 
 while the brook maintained the rhythm with its purling, mur- 
 muring flow. The voices of men and women could be heard, 
 vigorously strong and sweetly clear; and, intermingling with 
 these somewhat rude shouts of joy, the high-pitched voices 
 of children. 
 
 On they came, the people, a joyous, bright-colored pro- 
 cession. They all bore flowers — as wreaths upon their 
 heads, as festoons in their hands or about their shoulders — 
 flute-players, men, women, and children. And they them- 
 selves seemed living flowers, in their clear-colored, charming 
 apparel. They all had abundant, curling hair which gleamed 
 like dull gold in the sunshine, that tinted everything. Their 
 limbs and faces were tanned by the sun, but when the folds 
 of their garments fell aside, their bodies beneath them shone 
 white as milk. The older ones kept step, with careful dignity; 
 the children bore little baskets, with fruit, ribbons, and green 
 branches; but the young men and maidens danced as they 
 went, keeping the rhythm of the music in a way Johannes had 
 never seen before. They swayed their bodies in a swinging 
 movement, with little leaps; sometimes even standing still,
 
 192 THEQUEST 
 
 in graceful postures, their arms alternately raised above their 
 heads, their loosened garments flowing free, and again arrang- 
 ing themselves in charming folds. 
 
 And hovs^ beautiful they were! Not one, Johannes noted, 
 old or young, who had not those noble, refined features, and 
 those clear, ardent eyes, in which was to be found the deep 
 meaning he was always seeking in human faces — that which 
 made a person instantly his friend — that made him long to 
 be cordial and intimate — that which he had first perceived 
 in Windekind's eyes, and that he missed so keenly in all those 
 human faces among which he had had to live. That, they 
 all had — man and woman, grey-haired one and little child. 
 
 "Oh, Wistik," he whispered, so moved he could scarcely 
 speak, "are they really human beings, and not elves? Can 
 human beings be so beautiful ? They are more beautiful 
 than flowers — and much more beautiful than the animals. 
 They are the most beautiful of all things in this world!" 
 
 "What did I tell you?" said Wistik, rubbing his little legs 
 in his satisfaction. "Yes, human beings rank first in nature, — 
 altogether first. But until now we have had to do with the 
 wrong ones — the trash, Johannes — the refuse. The right 
 ones are not so bad. I have always told you that." 
 
 Johannes did not remember about it, but would not contra- 
 dict his friend. He only hoped that those dear and charming 
 people would come to him, recognize him as their comrade, 
 and receive him as one of them. That would make him 
 very happy; he would love the people truly, and be proud 
 of his human nature. 
 
 But the splendid train drew near, and passed on, without 
 his having been observed by any one; and Johannes also 
 heard them singing in a strange, unintelligible language. 
 
 "May I not speak to them ?" he asked, anxiously. "Would 
 they understand me?" 
 
 "Indeed, no!" said Wistik, indignantly. "What are you 
 thinking about ? This is not a fairy tale nor a dream. This 
 is real — altogether real."
 
 THEQUEST 193 
 
 "Then shall I have to go back again to Aunt Serena, and 
 Daatje, and the dominie?" 
 
 "Yes, to be sure!" said Wistik, in confusion. 
 
 "And the little key, and the book, and Windekind?" 
 
 "We can still be seeking them." 
 
 "That is always the way with you!" said Johannes, bitterly. 
 "You promise something wonderful, and the end is always a 
 disappointment." 
 
 "I cannot help that," said Wistik. 
 
 They went farther, both of them silent and somewhat dis- 
 couraged. Then they came to human habitations amid the 
 verdure. They were simple structures of dark wood and 
 white stone, artistically decorated and colored. Vines were 
 growing against the pillars, and from the roofs hung 
 the branches of a strange, thickly leaved plant having red 
 flowers, so that the walls looked as if they were bleeding. 
 Birds were everywhere making their nests, and little golden 
 statues could be seen resting in marble niches. There were 
 no doors nor barriers — only here and there a heavy, many- 
 colored rug hanging before an entrance. • It seemed very 
 silent and lonely there, for everybody was away; yet nothing 
 was locked up, nor concealed. An exquisite perfume was 
 smoldering in bronze basins in front of the houses, and col- 
 umns of blue smoke coiled gently up into the still air. 
 
 Then they ventured farther into the forest that lay behind 
 the houses. It was dusky twilight there, and all was solemnly 
 and mysteriously silent. The moss grew thick upon the 
 massive rocks between which the mighty chestnut and cedar 
 trees took root. Foaming rivulets were flowing down; and 
 frequently it seemed to Johannes as if he saw some creature 
 — a deer or other animal — peep at him, and then dart away 
 between the tree-trunks. "What are they? Deer?" asked 
 Johannes. 
 
 "Indeed, no!" said Wistik, lifting a finger. "Only listen! 
 They are laughing. Deer do not laugh."
 
 194 THEQUEST 
 
 Truly, Johannes heard every now and then, as he saw a 
 figure disappear in the twihght of the woods, a soft peal of 
 laughter — clearly, human laughter. 
 
 "Now! now we are going to see him!" said Wistik. 
 
 "Who?" asked Johannes. 
 
 "Pst!" said Wistik, very mysteriously, pointing toward an 
 open place in the forest. 
 
 Johannes saw there such a pretty and captivating spectacle 
 that he stood speechless, with only a light laugh of joy and 
 amazement. 
 
 The forest was more open there, and the sun shone in upon 
 a grassy, flower-covered spot. In the centre stood a single, 
 extraordinarily large chestnut tree. About its foot, bordered 
 with white narcissi, a little stream of purest water was wind- 
 ing. On every side tall rhododendrons stood out in all their 
 beauty of dark foliage, and hundreds of hemispherical clusters 
 of purple flowers. 
 
 At the foot of the tree, in the shade of its leaves, a strange 
 figure, dark and shaggy, was sitting in a circle of exquisite, 
 fair-skinned beings. Johannes did not know what to think 
 of them, they were so light and so delicate. And they lay in 
 all sorts of graceful attitudes amid the tall grass and the nar- 
 cissus flowers. They seemed to be human beings, but they 
 were so small; and they were as white as the foam of the brook. 
 Their long hair was so feathery light, it seemed to float about 
 their heads in the motionless air. 
 
 In the centre sat the dark, shaggy figure, with his arms 
 upon his knees, and his hands extended. He had a long, grey 
 beard, an old, wrinkled, friendly face, large gold earrings, a 
 wreath of leaves upon his head, a red flower-festoon adorned 
 with living yellow butterflies about his shoulders, bare, brown 
 arms, a deep, broad, hairy chest, and legs entirely covered 
 with a growth of red-brown fleece. On each hand rested a 
 bird — a finch — and each bird sang, in turn, his longest 
 strain. Then the old figure laughed, and nodded his approval, 
 and the fair little beings joined in the laugh. On his shoulder
 
 THEQUEST 195 
 
 sat a squirrel, shucking chestnuts so that the shells fell upon 
 his beard. 
 
 "Oh, Wistik!" cried Johannes, half laughing, half crying, 
 with rapture, "I know who that is — I know him. That is 
 Pan — Father Pan!" 
 
 "Very likely!" said Wistik, with a knowing look. "Now 
 he will listen to us. Let's try!" 
 
 Diffidently, Johannes went nearer. At the first step he 
 took in the open space, the little white nymphs sped apart 
 in a trice — as swiftly and softly as if they had been 
 turned into newts — and there was nothing to be heard save 
 their light, mocking laughter, and a slight rustling in the 
 dark shadow of the rhododendrons. The two finches flew 
 away and the yellow butterflies, also, from their flower-fes- 
 toon; and the squirrel shot into the tree — his little nails 
 clattering as he went. But Pan remained sitting, with head 
 bent forward, down-dropping hands, and peering, friendly 
 eyes. 
 
 "I know you all right!" came from the wide mouth of Pan, 
 while he nodded to Johannes, and looked at him with his 
 large head a little to one side. 
 
 "Oh, Father Pan!" exclaimed Johannes, quivering with 
 awe and suspense, "do you know me ] Will you answer me ? 
 Tell me where we are, then!" 
 
 Continuing to nod in a quieting, aff'able manner. Pan re- 
 plied: "Phrygia! Golden Era — to be sure!" 
 
 "And do you know Wistik, too? And Windekind ? And 
 do you know about the little key, and the book ?" 
 
 "Wistik? Certainly! Would that I knew all, though! — 
 You know how to ask questions, Vraagal. Know-all and 
 Ask-all! A pretty pair you are!" 
 
 And Pan laughed heartily, showing his great white teeth in 
 an astonishingly large mouth. 
 
 "But tell me, Father Pan! Who is Windekind?" 
 
 "My dearest dear! My darling, clever little son! That 
 is who he is. We are two yolks of one egg, although I
 
 196 THEQUEST 
 
 am old, rough, and shaggy, and he is sleek, and fine, and 
 beautiful." 
 
 "Shall I ever see him again ?" 
 
 "Why not ? He comes here often; and you also like it here, 
 do you not ? " 
 
 "But Wistik said I could not stay." 
 
 "You cannot do so — now; but why could you not come 
 back again sometime ? " 
 
 "Could I? " 
 
 Pan's face took on a most amused, astonished look, and he 
 puffed out his cheeks. 
 
 "You dear little Vraagal! Give me your hand." Johannes 
 laid his small hand trustfully in the broad open palm. The 
 large hand was dark and shaggy on the outside, but white, and 
 smooth, and firm on the inside. "Do you not know that yet ? 
 Then let Father Pan make you happy with a word. Do not 
 forget it, mind! Fraagal can do whatever he wills to Jo — 
 everything — if he will only be patient! But tell me now, — 
 how did you know me V 
 
 "I have seen statues and engravings of you." 
 
 "Do I look like them V 
 
 "No!" said Johannes. "I think you are much nicer. In 
 the prints you look like the Devil." 
 
 "Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Pan, raising his heavy hands above 
 his head, and clapping them together. "That is who I am, 
 Vraagal. They have made a devil of me, so as to drive people 
 away. But do you believe, now, that I am bad ? Give me 
 your paddy again ! And now the other one ! " 
 
 This time Johannes laid both his own in Pan's two giant 
 hands, and said: "I know who you are. You are good. You 
 are Nature!" 
 
 "Hold your tongue, little hypocrite, with your conceited 
 platitudes! Are you not ashamed of yourself?" 
 
 Johannes blushed deeply; tears fell from his eyes, and he 
 wished he could sink out of sight. But Pan drew him up 
 closer and stroked his cheek.
 
 THEQUEST 197 
 
 "Now, do not cry! It is not so bad. You have come, too, 
 out of a dreary nest. I am not evil — neither is Wistik. 
 Only trust us." 
 
 "I have told him that, too," said Wistik, earnestly and 
 emphatically. 
 
 "Little Vraagal," continued Pan, looking very serious, 
 "there is, indeed, an evil Devil, but he is far more ugly than 
 I am. Is it not so, Wistik ^ You know^ him. Is he not 
 much uglier? Tell us!" 
 
 Johannes never forgot the look on Wistik's face as Father 
 Pan asked him this in a loud voice, with a keen, serious regard. 
 The little fellow grew as pale as death, his mouth dropped 
 open, he pressed both hands upon his stomach, and from his 
 trembling lips came the almost inaudible word: "Horrible!" 
 
 "Oh, indeed!" said Pan. "Well, I am not that. Some- 
 time Wistik must point him out to you. He looks much more 
 like those foolish people you have just come from than like me." 
 
 "Aunt Serena ?" asked Johannes, astounded. "Is she, then, 
 not good and first-rate? Is she a foolish person?" 
 
 "Now, now, you dear little Vraagal!" said Pan, in pallia- 
 tion. "Everything is relative. But it is a fact that she looks 
 more like the Devil than I do." 
 
 "How can that be?" asked Johannes, in amazement. 
 
 Pan grew a little impatient. "Does that puzzle you? 
 Then ask her to show you the little tree she has in her safe, 
 with the golden apples growing on it. Do not forget I " 
 
 "Good, good!" shouted Wistik, clapping his hands with 
 delight. 
 
 At this moment there came suddenly from the distance an 
 alarming sound — a short, hoarse, resounding roar that echoed 
 through the forest. 
 
 "The lion!" cried Wistik; and away he went, as fast as he 
 could run. 
 
 Johannes also was greatly frightened. He knew it was
 
 198 THEQUEST 
 
 time to leave, but he would not go quite yet. He asked, im- 
 ploringly: 
 
 "Father Pan, shall I find the book?" 
 
 "Remember what I said to you," replied Pan. "Vraagal 
 can do what Vraagal wills to do. To will is to do. But it 
 must be the right sort of will." 
 
 Again that frightful roar resounded, this time much nearer. 
 Johannes stretched out his hand, hesitating between his 
 mounting fears, and his desire to make use of an instant more. 
 
 "One more question!" he cried. "Who is Markus?" 
 
 At that, he saw Pan's eyes distend, and stare at him with a 
 look full of intense emotion. He seemed as fiercely sorrowful 
 as a wounded animal; and, until now, Johannes had not ob- 
 served what beautiful great eyes he had. He lifted up his 
 outspread hands — then covered his face with them, and 
 began to weep and wail, loudly. The air grew dense and 
 dark, and a heavy shower descended. 
 
 Then, for the third time, the lion roared. . . .
 
 VIII 
 
 "It's a downright shame!" said Daatje, snappishly, while 
 unfastening the third shutter, which opened with a shriek and 
 a rumble. Half past-nine — on Saturday, at that — and the 
 room to be tidied up ! You'll catch it from Aunt Serena. 
 Half-past nine ! It's a downright shame ! " 
 
 Johannes was not pleased with this famiharity, as if he 
 were still a mere child; and, in a rebellious spirit, without 
 quite understanding his own object, he muttered: "This 
 thing's got to end." 
 
 With Aunt Serena, disapproval was expressed in a manner 
 very different from that in a kermis-wagon. There was no 
 swearing, nor scolding, nor any din; and no cooking utensils 
 flew out of the window. 
 
 But Aunt Serena would grow a little paler, her fine face 
 become cold and severe like marble, and the very few words 
 that fell from her lips would be short and spoken in a soft, 
 low voice. She knew how, though, to make one so uncom- 
 fortable in this way, that he would rather she had thrown a 
 piece of the tea-set at his head. 
 
 Johannes, however, neither felt, nor evinced, any remorse. 
 On the contrary, he assumed an independent bearing. He 
 was not saucy, but wonderfully indifferent; neither was he 
 morose, but cheerful and obliging; for his thoughts were full 
 of that beautiful land and its noble people, and of his good 
 Father Pan. Aunt Serena, herself, felt a little disconcerted. 
 
 That evening the circle of lady friends came in full force. 
 There was Juffrouw Frederike — called Free — tall and 
 bowed, with her grey hair in a net. There was Pietekoo, 
 who was always laughing, and saying flattering things, but 
 who could, also, show a tart side upon occasion. There was 
 Suze, who had the name of being so musical, and who, 
 pluming herself on that score, kept on taking piano lessons — 
 
 199
 
 200 THEOUEST 
 
 far on in her sixties though she was. There was the 
 saintly Koos, who had once leaped into the water, in a 
 religious frenzy, and who could repeat the sermons, word 
 for word. There was the quiet Neeltje, a bit round- 
 shouldered, and very negligent in her dress, who never said 
 anything, and was always being teased about suitors. There 
 was the widow Slot, who, in her deep voice, uttered short, 
 sarcastic comments, mostly at the expense of poor Neeltje. 
 There was Miebet, the beauty of the company, toward 
 whom Johannes felt a special aversion. They all brought 
 their hand-work, and were speedily deep in conversa- 
 tion. Johannes was greeted in a friendly way as " dear 
 boy" and "good boy," but, after that, as always, was left in 
 peace. 
 
 It did seem, listening to their conversation, as if love and 
 meekness reigned undisturbed in their hearts. It was an 
 uninterrupted competition in generosity, each striving to be 
 foremost in helping the others to the footstools, the cozy places, 
 and the various delicacies. Miebet said that she had only 
 one defect — this one, that she always thought of others first, 
 and herself last. From this single defect one could perceive, 
 by comparison, the nature and number of her virtues. To 
 the saintliness of Koos, according to her own testimony, even 
 Daatje and Aunt Serena would have to yield precedence. 
 She could repeat, word for word, the long, closing prayer of 
 the previous Sunday, and stood alone in this proficiency. 
 Johannes noticed that she could neither read nor write, nor 
 even tell the time, but cunningly contrived to hide her igno- 
 rance. Juffrouw Frederike, who was wont to enumerate the 
 excruciating pains that her poor health inflicted upon her, 
 was not silent concerning the heavenly patience with which 
 she endured these trials, and the indifference of the world 
 toward her sufferings. 
 
 At seven o'clock came the dominie. He was greeted re- 
 spectfully, and with a tender solicitude, while he made 
 interested and condescending inquiries after health and cir-
 
 THE QUEST 201 
 
 cumstances. Also, he admired and praised the products of 
 womanly industry, deducing therefrom weighty and forceful 
 morals that were listened to in thoughtful silence. 
 
 Johannes had received a cold, limp hand-shake. He felt 
 that he had been a long time in disfavor. Neither had Aunt 
 Serena's stiffness relaxed, and she looked at him now and 
 then, restlessly, as if wishing and expecting that he would 
 show signs of repentance or submissiveness. And it seemed 
 as if the entire circle concerned themselves less about him 
 than ever. 
 
 He sat still in his corner, turning the leaves of his penny 
 magazine, his little heart brave and not at all disquieted. 
 But he did not see much of the engravings, and felt more than 
 at other times constrained to listen to the talking. 
 
 Then, while all gave quiet attention. Aunt Serena began 
 an enumeration of all the petty trifles and knick-knacks which 
 had been brought together this time for the "tombola": 
 "three napkin-rings, two corner-brackets, one waste-paper 
 basket worked with worsted, seven anti-macassars, a knitting- 
 needle holder, two sofa-pillows, one lamp-shade, the beautiful 
 fire-screen made by Free, two picture-frames, four pincush- 
 ions, one needle-book, one patchwork quilt, one pair of slip- 
 pers, by Miebet, one reticule, one painted teacup, two 
 flower-pieces made of bread, one cabinet of shells, one straw 
 thread-winder, seventeen book-marks, eight pen-wipers, one 
 small postage-stamp picture, two decorated cigar-cases, one 
 ash-holder. That is all, I believe." 
 
 "Aunt Serena," said Johannes, over the top of his penny 
 magazine, "do you know what else you ought to count 
 m r 
 
 A moment of suspense followed. All eyes were turned 
 upon him. Aunt Serena looked surprised, but kindly in- 
 quisitive. The dominie suspected something, and his brows 
 contracted. 
 
 "What, my dear boy!" asked Aunt Serena. 
 
 "A couple of gold apples, from your little tree."
 
 202 THEOUEST 
 
 There followed a moment of subdued silence. Then Aunt 
 Serena, with a self-restrained but severe manner, asked: 
 
 "What tree do you mean, Johannes?" 
 
 "The little tree you have in your chest, with the gold apples 
 growing on it." 
 
 Again silence, but all understood; that was clear. Piete- 
 koo even tittered. The others exchanged significant glances. 
 Aunt Serena's pale face flushed perceptibly, and she shot a 
 glance at the dominie over her spectacles. The dominie took 
 the affair very calmly, gave Johannes a cold, disdainful look, 
 as much as to say that he had all along had his measure, and 
 then, while his eyes narrowed in a smile, he signified to Aunt 
 Serena, by a quieting motion of the hand, that she ought not 
 to bestow any thought upon such a matter. Thereupon, with 
 assumed unprejudice, and in a sprightly tone, he said: 
 
 "This is, indeed, a fine 'tombola'!" 
 
 But Aunt Serena was not to be appeased in this way. She 
 threw back her rustling, purple silk cap-strings with a nervous, 
 trembling gesture (in her the betrayal of vehement emotion), 
 and, standing up, motioned to Johannes to follow her into the 
 vestibule. 
 
 Closing the door of the room behind her: "Johannes!" said 
 she, in a voice not quite within control, "Johannes, I will not 
 suflPer this! To think of you making me appear ridiculous 
 to others! For shame! And after all the good I thought to 
 have done you! Ought you to have grieved your old aunt so ? 
 For shame, Johannes! It is mean and ungrateful of you!" 
 
 With a face almost as pale as that of his aunt, Johannes 
 looked straight up into her glistening glasses. There were 
 tears in her voice, and Johannes saw them appear from under 
 the spectacles, and slowly trickle down along the delicate lines 
 of her cheeks. 
 
 It was Johannes' turn, now, to feel badly. He was utterly 
 confounded. Who was right — Father Pan or Aunt Serena ? 
 In such straits was he that he would rather be running the 
 streets at such a pace as never to get back again.
 
 THEQUEST 203 
 
 The street door stood ajar, the autumn day was drawing to 
 its close in a melancholy twilight, and a drizzling rain was 
 falling. Daatje was standing outside, talking with some one. 
 
 "Aunt Serena," said Johannes, trying hard to control him- 
 self, " I know that I am wicked, but I really will be good — ■ 
 really — if only I knew. . . ." 
 
 Just then there came from outside a sound which made him 
 quiver with agitation. It thrilled through marrow and bone, 
 and he felt his knees giving way. It was the sharp, rasping 
 sound of steel being held against the whetstone; and through 
 the door-crack he saw the glitter of that beautiful fountain of 
 golden sparks. 
 
 It sounded to him like a blessed tidings — like the utterance 
 of mercy to one condemned. 
 
 "That is Markus!" he cried, with heightened color and 
 shining eyes. 
 
 Aunt Serena went to the door and opened it. There, bowed 
 over his work, stood Markus. Again, he was treading the 
 wheel of the old cart, the one with the footboard. As before, 
 the water was dripping from his old cap, down upon his faded 
 raincoat. His face was sad, and there were deep lines about 
 his mouth. 
 
 "Markus!" cried Johannes; and, springing forward, he 
 threw his arms around him, and pressed his head caressingly 
 against the wet clothing. 
 
 "For the love of Christ, Boy! What are you doing ?" said 
 Daatje. "What Romish freak is this.?" 
 
 "Oh, Aunt Serena!" cried Johannes. "May he not come 
 indoors ? He is so wet, and so tired! He is a good man — 
 my best friend." 
 
 Daatje placed her arms akimbo, and stepped angrily in 
 front of Aunt Serena and the doorway. 
 
 "Now, I'll attend to that. The dear Lord preserve us! 
 Such a dirty lout of a gypsy come into my clean marble hall! 
 That's altogether too much!" 
 
 But Aunt Serena, in that earnest tone which had always
 
 204 THEQUEST 
 
 been a command for Daatje — admitting no oppositions — 
 said : " Daatje, go back to the kitchen. I will settle this matter 
 myself." 
 
 And turning toward Markus she asked: "Will you not come 
 in and rest V 
 
 Slowly straightening himself up, Markus replied: "I will, 
 Madam." And he laid down his scissors, took off his cap, 
 and walked in. 
 
 This time Daatje was disobedient, for she did not return to 
 the kitchen, but remained, arms still akimbo, repeatedly 
 shaking her head, surveying the intruder with horror — 
 especially his feet, and the old coat which he hung upon the 
 hat-rack. And, when Aunt Serena actually let him out of 
 the vestibule into the room itself, she tarried behind the un- 
 closed door, anxiously listening. 
 
 Within the room a dead stillness ensued. The dominie's 
 face took on an expression of utter amazement, while he lifted 
 his eyebrows very high, and thrust out his pursed-up lips. 
 Pietekoo tittered in her embarrassment, and then hid her face 
 in her hands. The others looked, now with a puzzled mien 
 at Markus, then in doubtful expectation at Aunt Serena, with 
 distrust at Johannes, with very expressive glances at one 
 another, and finally, with pretended absorption in their hand- 
 work. The silence was still unbroken. 
 
 "Will you take something?" asked Aunt Serena. 
 
 "Yes, Madam, a bit of bread," said Markus, in his calm, 
 gentle voice. 
 
 "Would younot rather have aglass of wine, and somecake ?" 
 
 "No, Madam, if you will excuse me; I prefer common 
 bread." 
 
 The dominie thought it time to intervene. He was stung 
 by the censure conveyed in Markus' refusal. 
 
 "The Scripture teaches, my friend, that we should eat what 
 is set before us, when we are guests." 
 
 "Do you take me for a theologian — or for an apostle?" 
 asked Markus.
 
 THEQUEST 205 
 
 "He has the gift of gab," said Mevrouw Slot, in her coarse 
 voice. 
 
 In those pure accents which held Johannes breathlessly 
 attentive, Markus continued: "I will even sit at table with 
 witches, but not necessarily eat of their food." 
 
 "Dear me! Dear me!" said the dominie, and the ladies 
 cried: "Good gracious T' and other exclamations of disap- 
 proval and indignation. "Be a little less uncivil, friend; you 
 are not with your own kind here." 
 
 Markus continued, in a calm, friendly tone: "Theologians, 
 however, thank God for many a rude truth, and know, also, 
 how to take parables. Even when with cannibals, an apostle 
 need not eat human flesh." 
 
 Widow Slot, who alone of all in the circle seemed to have 
 retained her coolness, here interposed ; " We have not 
 improved, yet." 
 
 Markus turned toward her and said with great earnest- 
 ness: 
 
 "Who are they who have their portion ? Are not the poorest 
 ones they who drink wine and eat cake, and yet produce not 
 even bread .'' Every day they sink deeper into debt. I prefer 
 to eat honest food." 
 
 "You mistake, my man! I have no debts!" cried Aunt 
 Serena, with trembling lips. 
 
 "But, Aunt Serena, he does not mean that," said Johannes, 
 as much moved as herself. 
 
 "Children must be silent, here!" cried the dominie, 
 angrily. 
 
 " If the children are silent here, w^ho is there to speak sense ? " 
 continued Markus. And then, with a gentle, penetrating 
 voice, he addressed Aunt Serena. "Whoever will not listen 
 to children, the Father will not understand. I spoke in 
 metaphor — in a simple way, for simple people. The whole 
 world is a metaphor, and not a simple one. If we do not yet 
 understand such a simple metaphor, then the world must 
 indeed remain a sad riddle."
 
 2o6 THEQUEST 
 
 The dominie held his peace, and smoked fiercely; but Aunt 
 Serena thought it over, looking in front of her, and said; "All 
 understanding comes through the light of grace." 
 
 Markus nodded, kindly. "Yes," said he, "for those who 
 unbolt the shutters and throw open the windows. And the 
 sun will shine even through little windows." 
 
 Then he ceased speaking and ate his bread. No one 
 said anything more, unless in a whisper to his next 
 neighbor. 
 
 When Markus had eaten he stood up and said: "Thank 
 you. Good night!" 
 
 Johannes also stood up, and said anxiously: "Markus, 
 You are not going away ? " 
 
 "Yes, Johannes. Good-by till we meet again!" 
 
 Then he passed silently out of the door, took his cap and 
 coat, and was let out by Daatje. Johannes heard her ask: 
 "How much did you get.''" And when Markus said simply: 
 "Twopence," he felt a twinge at his heart. Indoors, no one 
 spoke so long as the creaking of the cart-wheel could be heard. 
 Then the dominie, in a loud tone, and with assumed lightness, 
 said: 
 
 "That was a venturesome deed, dear Madam. You ought 
 to be more cautious in future with that altogether too-largely 
 developed philanthropy of yours. That man is known as a 
 very dangerous individual." 
 
 Exclamations of astonishment and alarm followed this, 
 and different ladies cried: "Goodness!" "It's a sin!" "Do 
 you know him ?" 
 
 "Alas, indeed I do!" averred the dominie, with a con- 
 temptuous shrug of the shoulders. "He is a well-known 
 person - — one of those fanatics who incite the people and 
 poison their natures: a nihilist." 
 
 "A nihilist!" echoed the ladies, frightened and horrified. 
 Poor Johannes sat listening to Dominie Kraalboom with pain- 
 ful interest. The name "nihilist" did not make him afraid, 
 but such notoriety was a bitter disappointment. It was as if
 
 THEQUEST 207 
 
 thereby all the mysterious superiority of his beloved friend 
 had been leveled. Had it, then, all been a fraud ? 
 
 When the circle had taken their leave, and Aunt Serena was 
 going to bed, he saw Daatje very carefully counting the silver 
 spoons!
 
 IX 
 
 "Listen, JufFrouw, " said Daatje, the following morning, 
 when all was ready lor going to church, "for forty years I have 
 served you faithfully and well; but I just want to say to you, 
 that if you bring any more heathen or Hottentots into the house 
 — into the parlor, rather — in the future, / will leave in a 
 jiffy, as sure as fate!" 
 
 "Will you, Daatje ?" said Aunt Serena, drily, asking for her 
 prayer-book. Johannes sat stiffly in his Sunday collar, strug- 
 gling to draw his thread gloves smoothly over his finger-tips. 
 Then, under two umbrellas, the three set out for church. 
 
 Already Dominie Kraalboom was sitting in the chancel, 
 busily stroking his freshly shaven cheeks, and thoughtfully 
 watching the coming in of his flock. Not one of the circle 
 was missing. The clothing of the congregation, wet with rain, 
 gave out a peculiar odor; chairs were noisily shoved about over 
 the flat, blue tombstones, while above the sound of shuffling 
 feet and of slamming doors the deep throbbing of the organ 
 was heard. 
 
 The dominie soon caught sight of Johannes ; and the little 
 man had cause to feel conceited by reason of all the attention 
 paid him. Johannes said to himself that it certainly must be his 
 own imagining (for what could such a great man have to do 
 with a little boy ?) but it appeared as if the entire sermon was 
 written for, and especially aimed at, Johannes. 
 
 The text was: "Who shall understand his errors ? Cleanse 
 thou me from secret faults." 
 
 The dominie dwelt upon the sin of arrogance, and the num- 
 bers of young people who were wrecked through it ere they 
 rightly understood what it was, and said that they ought to 
 desire to be cleansed from it. 
 
 Young people, said the dominie, were conceited and 
 presumptuous, and full of evil; but they were themselves 
 
 208
 
 THEQUEST 209 
 
 unconscious of it. They thought they knew more than their 
 elders, and they Hstened, far too wilhngly, to pernicious dogmas 
 that would make all men equal — that would reason away 
 royal and divine authority, and that made people rebellious, 
 and discontented with the sphere in which God had placed 
 them. 
 
 "The true Christian," said the dominie, "cares for neither 
 gold nor goods. He has higher aspirations. If he be blessed 
 with them, let him manage them well, for they are only lent to 
 him. If he be poor, then let him not repine nor complain, 
 knowing that everything is ordered for the best, and that true 
 riches are not of this world." 
 
 It was a fine sermon. Johannes and his aunt both listened 
 attentively. The precentor looked pleased, and the saintly 
 Koos nodded repeatedly. Neeltje, alone, slept; but, as every- 
 body knew, that was because of her nervous trouble. 
 
 The entire congregation joined spiritedly in the singing, 
 and the dominie sat down visibly self-satisfied. 
 
 Once, Johannes looked around, and, close by the door, 
 athwart the chancel in the shadow, beheld, supported by a 
 slender hand, a bowed head with dark hair! 
 
 He knew the hand well, and recognized instantly that dark- 
 haired man. Again and again he felt constrained to look in 
 that direction. The figure remained sitting, motionless, and 
 in a bowed posture. 
 
 But when the singing came to an end, and the dominie de- 
 liberately made ready to continue his sermon. . . . Surely, 
 the dark head was lifted up! Markus regarded the faces about 
 him for an instant, with a sorrowful look, and then he stood 
 erect. 
 
 Johannes' heart began to thump. "Was he going away? 
 What was he going to do? Oh, dear! Oh, dear!" 
 
 But Markus, taking advantage of that pause wherein the 
 people in a congregation are wont to cough, to make use of 
 their handkerchiefs, and to compose themselves again for 
 listening, began speaking in his gentle, musical voice:
 
 210 THEQUEST 
 
 "My friends, excuse me for addressing you unbidden, but 
 you know that it is always permitted to bear witness of the 
 Father, if one can do so truthfully." 
 
 In perplexity, the congregation looked from the speaker to 
 Dominie Kraalboom. The precentor, also, directed his 
 frightened eyes to the chancel up behind him, as if expect- 
 ing from that quarter deliverance from this extraordinary 
 difficulty. 
 
 Dominie Kraalboom grew very red, and, speaking in his 
 most impressive tones — rolling his r's, for he was really 
 angry — he said: "I beseech you not to disturb the order of 
 this church." 
 
 Markus, however, paid not the slightest attention to these 
 words. His voice rang clearer than ever through the chill, 
 lofty spaces. The people listened, and the dominie had no 
 alternative but to be silent or to shout the louder, which latter 
 expedient he renounced from a sense of dignity. 
 
 "My poor friends," said Markus, "does it not alarm you 
 that there are wrong-doings of which you are not conscious ? 
 Is it not sad to be guilty and not to know it ?" 
 
 "If we, poor souls, forgive those who unconsciously wrong 
 us, will not our Father forgive us ? 
 
 "But to wander is to wander, and not to follow the straight 
 course: and he who errs, though he may know it not, does not 
 do right, although he may intend a thousand times to do the 
 
 "And he who continues to wander gets lost; for the Father's 
 justice is inalterable and unfailing. 
 
 "And yet, my poor friends, the Father's forgiveness is for 
 every one, even the poorest wanderer. His mercy is for all. 
 
 "And His forgiveness is called knowledge, and the name 
 of His mercy is insight. 
 
 "These are bestowed upon every one who does not reject 
 them; and no one will be lost who makes use of them. 
 
 "Therefore, the Psalmist begged to be cleansed from secret 
 faults. He knew that we know not ourselves how very guilty
 
 THE QUEST 211 
 
 we are. And He knew that the enlightening and purifying 
 fire of confession is of the Father's mercy. 
 
 "Has ever a thirsty one continued to wander away from the 
 water, after recognizing his mistake ? 
 
 "Who of us does not long for forgiveness and blessedness? 
 Or who would continue to err after confession ? 
 
 "Confess, then, and will to look within. It is never too 
 late to do so. 
 
 "We are guilty, my poor friends: confess it and there will 
 be forgiveness, but not without knowledge thereof. The 
 least among you can understand this, if only he will. 
 
 "It was not the Father who willed that you should be poor, 
 and rich — the poor laboring, the rich idling. It would be 
 abominable blasphemy to say that. Believe it not. Shun 
 as defiling those who would thus delude you. 
 
 "Not by divine ordering, but through human mismanage- 
 ment, wickedness, and foolishness, and the wandering away 
 from the Father's will, have poverty and riches come into this 
 human world. 
 
 "Acknowledge it; for, truly, there will be no forgiveness for 
 those who reject the Father's mercy." 
 
 Here Dominie Kraalboom beckoned to the sexton and the 
 precentor, who were standing together whispering with con- 
 siderable vehemence, casting furious looks at the speaker. 
 The sexton coughed and mounted the pulpit. The dominie 
 exchanged a few words with him, and, with a resigned air, 
 half-closed eyes, and a face as severe as possible, went to 
 resume his seat. The sexton strode resolutely through the 
 church, and left the building, all eyes following him in sus- 
 pense. 
 
 Imperturbably, Markus proceeded: 
 
 "My poor friends, did ever an artist create a grand master- 
 piece, and desire that no one should admire it ? 
 
 "Would the Father, then, have made the mountains, seas, 
 and flowers, gold and jewels, and have desired that we should 
 despise and reject them all ?
 
 212 THE QUEST 
 
 "No; the highest good belongs not to this world, and neither 
 does the beauty of the universe belong to this world. Yet 
 even here — upon this earth — we may learn to know and to 
 admire; for why else were we placed in this world ? 
 
 "Let us admire not the mere wood and strings, but the 
 music of them; not paint and canvas, but the eternal beauty 
 to which they do homage. 
 
 "So we shall love the world, and admire it only as that by 
 means of which the Father speaks to us; and whoever despises 
 the world despises the voice of the Father. 
 
 "Will not he who receives a letter from his distant love 
 kiss the dry paper, and wet the black ink with his tears ? 
 
 "Shall we, then, hate the world, through which alone, in 
 our alienation, the Father reveals to us his beauty ?" 
 
 Markus' voice was so deep-toned, and so sweet to hear, that 
 many listeners were moved, even although they only half under- 
 stood. Tears were streaming freely from Johannes' shining, 
 wide-open eyes. Aunt Serena, too, looked agitated, and 
 Neeltje, even, had waked up. The dominie scowled blackly, 
 with closed eyes, like one about to lose his forbearance. 
 The precentor looked nervously toward the door. 
 
 Again Markus began: 
 
 "My friends, how shall the poor, who compulsorily toil, and 
 the rich, who compel them, comprehend the sacred message 
 of the Father .? 
 
 "Must they always remain both deaf and blind to what is 
 best and most beautiful ^ Must they see and hear nothing 
 of this ? 
 
 '' Sooner can the sunlight penetrate dungeon-doors of three- 
 fold thickness, than can the light of the Father's loving kind- 
 ness and the radiance of His beauty enter the soul of the 
 stupefied drudge. 
 
 "Upon the sands of the sea grow neither grapes nor roses. 
 In the heart of the ovenvorked, needy sufferer grows neither 
 beauty nor wisdom. 
 
 "And the rich — who purloin the good things which the
 
 THEQUEST 213 
 
 Father has given to others — who are served, without render- 
 ing service — who eat, without working, and found their 
 houses upon the misery of others — how can these compre- 
 hend the justice of the Father? 
 
 "Exceeding sweetness shall turn to gall in the rich man's 
 stomach; illicit pleasure shall waste him away like sorrow; 
 wisdom, unrighteously acquired, shall turn in him to despair 
 and madness. 
 
 "The rich man is like one who takes away the fire of many 
 others, that he may always keep himself warm; but the heat 
 consumes him. He will have all the water, that he may never 
 again thirst; but he is drowned. Yet unto all the Father has 
 given light and water in equal measure. 
 
 "No one escapes the Father's justice. The rich have their 
 reward as they go; and in want shall they envy those whom 
 they robbed while they were still upon earth. 
 
 "Admit, then, my poor friends, that it is not the Father's 
 will that there should be poverty and riches, but that your own 
 wickedness and maliciousness have created them — your un- 
 brotherliness and ignorance, your thirst for power and your 
 servility. 
 
 "Confess, and there shall be forgiveness for the most guilty. 
 Submit and humble yourselves, and you shall be exalted. 
 Lift up your hearts, fear not, and you shall be saved. Throw 
 open the windows and the light will stream in." 
 
 At last, there was a creaking of the heavy, outside door, 
 which was held shut by a rope, weighted with lead. Then fol- 
 lowed several more long-drawn creakings of the pulley, ere the 
 door closed with a dull thud. All heads were again turned in 
 that direction. The dominie, too, looked up, visibly relieved. 
 
 And Johannes, stiff with terror, saw, in the rear of the 
 sexton, two officers — two common, insignificant policemen 
 — step up to Markus with an air of professional sternness, 
 albeit with a rather slouching mien. 
 
 Yes, it was going to happen! The congregation looked on
 
 214 THEQUEST 
 
 in breathless suspense. The sexton bristled, and the officers 
 hesitatingly prepared themselves for a struggle. 
 
 But before the outstretched hand of the helmeted chief had 
 descended upon his shoulder, Markus looked round and 
 nodded in a friendly way as if he was expecting them. 
 After that, he looked about the congregation once again, and 
 bade them farewell with a cordial, comforting gesture which 
 seemed to come to all as a surprise. He had the appearance, 
 indeed, of one who was being conducted by two lackeys to a 
 feast, instead of by policemen to the station. 
 
 When he went away, the officers grasped him by his arms, 
 as firmly as if they were resolutely determined not to let him 
 escape. They did this so awkwardly, and Markus was so 
 cheerfully docile, that the effect was very comical, and several 
 people smiled. 
 
 The dominie spoke a few more words, and made a long 
 closing prayer which, however, was not listened to attentively. 
 The congregation were too anxious to talk over what had 
 happened. And they made a busy beginning even before 
 they were out of the church. 
 
 But Aunt Serena and Johannes went home with averted 
 eyes, and in anxious silence, without exchanging a word or a 
 look.
 
 Johannes had one peculiarity which he could not excuse in 
 himself. His good intentions and heroic resolves always came, 
 according to his own opinion, a trifle too late. He might be 
 a good boy yet, he thought, if only things did not happen so 
 suddenly that he had not due time to think them over before 
 he needed to act. Thus, sitting on the opposite side of the 
 breakfast table from his Aunt Serena, deliberating whether it 
 would still be proper, after the agitating events of the morning, 
 to spread his first roll, as usual, with sweet-milk cheese, and 
 his second with Deventer cake, it suddenly dawned upon him 
 what a mean, cowardly, perfidious boy he had been. He felt 
 that any other brisk, faithful person in his place w^ould have 
 risen up instantly, and resisted with all his power of word and 
 deed that shameful outrage against his beloved brother. 
 
 Of course, there had been something for him to do! He 
 ought to have intervened, instead of walking home again with 
 Aunt Serena, as calmly and serenely as if he were not in 
 the least concerned. How was it possible — how couU it be 
 possible, that he only now perceived this ? He might not, 
 perhaps, have accomplished anything; but that was not the 
 question. Was it not his dearest friend who was concerned; 
 and had he not, like a coward, left him alone ? Was not that 
 friend now sitting among thieves in a musty pen, enduring the 
 insolence of policemen, while he himself was here in Aunt 
 Serena's fine house, calmly drinking his coflTee ? 
 
 That must not be. He felt very sure of it, now. And 
 since Johannes, as I have already remarked, was never afraid 
 to do a thing if he was only first sure about it, not only the 
 cake and cheese, but even the rolls and coffee, remained un- 
 touched. He suddenly stood up and said: 
 
 "Aunt Serena!" 
 
 "What is it, my boy?" 
 
 215
 
 2i6 THEQUEST 
 
 "I want to go!" 
 
 Aunt Serena threw back her head, that she might give him 
 a good look through her spectacles. Her face took on a very 
 grieved expression. 
 
 At last, after a long pause, she asked, in her gentle voice, 
 "What do you mean.?" 
 
 "I want to go away. I cannot stand it. I want to be 
 with my friend." 
 
 "Do you think he will take better care of you than I do, 
 Johannes ?" 
 
 "I do not believe that, Aunt Serena, but he is being treated 
 unfairly. He is in the right." 
 
 "I will not take it upon myself . . ." said Aunt Serena, 
 hesitating, "to say that he is wrong. I am not clever enough 
 for that. I am only an old woman, and have not studied 
 much, although I have thought and experienced a great deal. 
 I will readily admit that perhaps I was at fault without know- 
 ing it. I did my best, to the best of my belief. But how 
 many there are, better than I am, Johannes, who think your 
 friend in the wrong!" 
 
 "Are they also better than he is ?" asked Johannes. 
 • "Who can say? How long have you known this friend — 
 and whom of the people have you known besides ^ But al- 
 though your friend were right, how would it help me, and 
 what would it matter to me ? Must I, in my sixty-fourth 
 year, give away all that I have, and go out house-cleaning ? 
 Do you mean that I ought to do that, Johannes ?" 
 
 Johannes was perplexed. "I do not say that, dear Aunt 
 
 S' >> 
 erena. 
 
 " But, what do you say, then ? And what do you want of 
 me r 
 
 Johannes was silent. 
 
 "You see, Johannes . . ." continued Aunt Serena, with a 
 break in her voice — not looking at him now, but staring hard 
 at her cofFee-tray — "I never have had any children, and all 
 the people whom I have been very fond of are either dead or
 
 THE QUEST 217 
 
 gone away. My friends do, indeed, show me much cordiahty. 
 On my birthday I had forty-four calls, two hundred and 
 eleven cards and notes, and about fifty presents; but that, 
 however, is not for me true life. The life of the old is so barren 
 if no young are growing near. I have not complained about 
 it, and have submitted to God's will. But since . . . for a 
 few months . . . you ... I thought it a blessing — a dis- 
 pensation from God . . ." 
 
 Aunt Serena's voice grew so broken and hoarse that she 
 stopped speaking, and began to rummage in her work-basket. 
 
 Johannes felt very tenderly toward her, but it seemed to 
 him as if, in two seconds, he had become much older and 
 wiser; yes, as if he had even grown, visibly, and was taller 
 than a moment before. Never yet had he spoken with such 
 dignity. 
 
 "My dear Aunt, I really am not ungrateful. I think you 
 are good. More than almost any other you have been kind 
 to me. But yet I must go. My conscience tells me so. 
 I would be willing to stay, you see; but still I am going because 
 it is best. If you say, 'You must not,' then I cannot help it; 
 I think, though, that I will quietly run away. I am truly 
 sorry to cause you sadness, but you will soon hear of an — 
 another boy, or a girl, who will make you happier. I must 
 find my friend — my conscience tells me so. Are you going 
 to say, Aunt Serena, that I must not.?" 
 
 Aunt Serena had taken out her worsted work, and appeared 
 to be comparing colors. Then, very slowly, she replied: 
 
 "No, I shall not say that, my dear boy; at least, if you have 
 thought it all over well." 
 
 "I have, Aunt Serena," said Johannes. 
 
 Being deeply anxious, he wished to go instantly to learn 
 where Markus had been taken. After that he would return 
 to "Vrede-best." 
 
 He mounted the stone steps of the police station with dread 
 and distaste. The officers, who were sitting outside on chairs,
 
 2i8 THEQUEST 
 
 received him, according to their wont, with scant courtesy. 
 The chief eyed Johannes, after the latter's bashful inquiry, 
 with a scornful expression, which seemed to say: "What busi- 
 ness is it of yours, and where have I seen you before ?" 
 
 Johannes learned, however, that "the prisoner" had been 
 set free. What use he had made of his freedom Johannes 
 must find out for himself. 
 
 As he could give no other reason for his interest in the 
 prisoner than that he was his friend, and as this reason was 
 not enough to exalt him in the esteem of police authority, 
 none of the functionaries felt called upon to put him on the 
 track. They supposed that the scissors-grinder had very 
 likely gone back to the Fair. That was all the help they 
 gave. 
 
 Johannes returned to his aunt's baffled and in dismay. 
 There, happily, he found relief; for the good aunt had already 
 discovered that Markus had been led out of the town, and 
 that, with his cart, he had taken the road to Utrecht. Already, 
 lying in plain sight, he saw a large, old-fashioned satchel of 
 hairy leather (a sort of bag which could be hung about one), 
 full of neatly packed sandwiches and hard-boiled eggs. And 
 in the inside of a waistcoat Aunt Serena had sewed a small 
 pocket. Within that pocket was a purse containing five little 
 gold-pieces. 
 
 "I do not give you more, Johannes, for by the time this is 
 gone you will surely know if you really wish to stay away for 
 good or to come back again. Do not be ashamed to return. 
 I will not say anything to you about it." 
 
 "I will be honest, and give it back to you when I have 
 earned it," said Johannes. He spoke in sober earnest; but 
 he had, no more than had his aunt, any clear expectation that 
 it would be possible. 
 
 Johannes took just a run into the garden to say good-by to 
 his favorite places — his paths and his flowers. Swiftly and 
 shyly, so as not to be seen, he ran past the kitchen where 
 Daatje, loudly singing hymns the while, stood chopping
 
 THE QUEST 219 
 
 spinach. After that, he embraced Aunt Serena in the vesti- 
 bule for the first and for the last time. "Cuckoo! Cuckoo!" 
 came insultingly and triumphantly from the little trap-door, 
 as the clock struck two. Then the stately green front door 
 closed between him and Aunt Serena. 
 
 That was a painful moment; yet there quickly followed in 
 Johannes' heart a delightful glow — a feeling of freedom such 
 as he had never yet known. He almost felt himself a man. 
 He had extricated himself from soft and perilous ways ; he 
 was going out into the wide world; he would find his beloved 
 brother again; he had a bagful of rolls, and in his waistcoat 
 were five gold-pieces. These last were only lent to him; he 
 would earn as much, and give them back again. 
 
 It was a still, humid, August day, and Johannes, full of 
 gladness, saw his beautiful native land lying in white light 
 under a canopy of delicate grey. He saw thickly wooded 
 dikes, black and white cattle, and brown boats in water 
 without a ripple. He walked briskly, inquiring every- 
 where for Markus the scissors-grinder. In front of an 
 inn, not far from the city, sat three httle gentlemen. They 
 were apparently government or post-office clerks, who had 
 taken their midday stroll and their glass of bitters. 
 
 Johannes asked information of the waiter who brought 
 drinks, but received no answer. 
 
 One of the little dandies, who had heard his question, said 
 to his companions: 
 
 "Jerusalem! but did you chaps hear that kicker.? The 
 fellow went into the new church yesterday morning, and 
 talked back at the dominie." 
 
 "What fellow?" asked the others. 
 
 "Good Lord! Don't you know him? That half-luny 
 fellow with the black curly-pate ? He does that now and 
 then." 
 
 " Gee ! That's rich. And what did the dominie say ? " 
 
 " Well, he found it no joke, for the fellow knew all about
 
 220 THEQUEST 
 
 it — as darned well as he did himself. But the gypsy had 
 his trouble for his pains; for that time the dominie wouldn't 
 have anything to do with such a dirty competitor!" 
 
 And the three friends laughed at the top of their voices. 
 
 "How did it end ?" 
 
 "He had him walked clean out of the church, by the sexton 
 and two cops." 
 
 "That's confounded silly. 'Twould have been better to see 
 who could crow the loudest. It's the loudest cock that wins." 
 
 "The idea! You'd have me believe you mean it.? Sup- 
 pose they gave the prize to the wrong fellow ? " 
 
 "Whether you are cheated by a fool of a preacher, or by a 
 scissors-grinder, what's the difference?" 
 
 Johannes reflected a moment and wondered if it would not 
 be commendable to do what he ached to do — fly at these 
 people and rain blows upon their heads. But he controlled 
 himself and passed on, convinced that in doing so he was es- 
 caping some hard work. 
 
 For five hours he walked on without being much the wiser 
 for his inquiries. Some people thought they had seen Markus; 
 others knew positively nothing about him. 
 
 Johannes began to fear he had passed him; for by this time 
 he ought to have overtaken him. 
 
 It began to grow dark, and before him lay a wide river 
 which he must cross by means of a ferry-boat. On the farther 
 side were hills covered with an underwood of oak, and tall, 
 purple-flowered heather. 
 
 The ferryman was positive that he had not that day taken 
 over a scissors-grinder; but in yonder town, an hour's distance 
 from the river, a Fair was to begin in the morning. Very 
 likely Markus also would be there. 
 
 Johannes sat down by the roadside in the midst of the dark 
 broom, with its millions of small purple flowers. The setting 
 sun cast a glorious coloring over land and mist, and over the 
 lustrous, flowing water. He was tired but not depressed, and 
 he ate his bread contentedly, certain that he should find Markus.
 
 THEQUEST 221 
 
 The road had become quiet and lonely. It was fun to be so 
 free — so alone and independent — at home in the open 
 country. Rather than anywhere else he should like to sleep 
 out-of-doors — in the underwood. 
 
 But just as he was about to lay himself down, he saw the 
 figure of a man with his hands in his pockets, and his cap 
 pushed back. Johannes sat up, and waited until he came 
 closer. Then he recognized him. 
 
 "Good evening, Director!" said Johannes. 
 
 "Good evening to you, my friend!" returned the other. 
 "What are you doing here? Are you lost.?" 
 
 "No; I am looking for friends. Is Markus with you ?" 
 
 The man was the director of a Flea-Theatre; a little fellow, 
 with a husky voice, and eyes inflamed by his fine work. 
 
 "Markus? I'm not sure. But come along — there's no 
 knowing but he might be there." 
 
 "Are you looking for new apprentices?" asked Johannes. 
 
 "Do you happen to have any? They're worth a pretty 
 penny, you know!" 
 
 They walked together to the camp of gypsy wagons, near 
 the town. Johannes found there all the old acquaintances. 
 There was the fat lady, who could rest a plate upon her bosom 
 and thus eat out of it. Now, however, she was eating simply 
 from a box, like the others, because there were no spectators. 
 There were the mother and daughter who represented the 
 living mermaid, taking turns because one could not hold out 
 very long. There was the exhibitor of the collection of curi- 
 osities — a poor, humpbacked knave whose entire possessions 
 consisted of a stuffed alligator, a walrus-tooth, and a seven- 
 months baby preserved in alcohol. There were the two wild 
 men, who, growling horribly, could eat grass and live rabbits, 
 and who might come out of the wagon only at night, when 
 the street boys were away ; but who, far from savage now, 
 were sitting in the light of a flickering lantern, " shaving " 
 one another with exceedingly dirty cards.
 
 222 THE QUEST 
 
 The flea-tamer brought Johannes at last to Marjon's wagon. 
 "Bless me!" cried Lorum, who seemed to be in a good 
 humor as he sat by the road smoking his pipe. "Here is our 
 runaway young gentleman again! Now the girls will be glad!" 
 From behind the wagon came the soft tones of a voice, sing- 
 ing to a zither accompaniment. Johannes could hear the song 
 distinctly, in the dreamlike stillness of the hour. It was sung 
 in a whining, melancholy, street-organ style, but with unusual 
 emotion : 
 
 "They have broken my heart — 
 Ah, the tears I have shed! 
 They have torn us apart — 
 His dear voice is now dead. 
 Alas! Alas! 
 How could you forsake me ? 
 
 Alas! Alas! 
 How you have deceived me!" 
 
 It was a ditty that Johannes thought he had often heard the 
 nurse-maids sing. But, because he recognized that dear voice, 
 and perhaps even because he was worried over the applica- 
 bility to himself, he was greatly touched by it. 
 
 "Hey, there!" cried Lorum to one behind him. "The kid 
 has come back! Stop your squalling!" 
 
 Then Marjon appeared from behind the wagon, and ran 
 up to Johannes. Also, the door of the wagon flew back, and 
 Johannes saw Marjon's sister standing in the bright opening. 
 Her fat arms were bare, and she was in her night-gown.
 
 XI 
 
 Since that first night in the dunes with Windekind, Johannes 
 had slept many a time in the open air, and he did not see 
 why he should not now do so. He would lie down under the 
 wagon, upon some hay. He was tired, and so would sleep 
 well. 
 
 But sleep did not come to him very promptly. Adventures 
 in the world of people proved to be even more exciting than 
 those in Windekind's land of elves. He was full of the im- 
 portant and unusual situation in which he was placed; the 
 strange human life that surrounded him claimed his atten- 
 tion. Above him, feet were shuffling over the wagon floor, 
 and he could see the people crawling around one another 
 inside the warm, dirty wagons. He was obliged to listen to 
 the talking, singing, laughing and quarreling that frequently 
 broke out here and there. A solitary ocarina continued to 
 whistle awhile; then all was still. 
 
 It grew cold. He had with him only a thin cloak of Aunt 
 Serena's; and, as a horse-blanket could not be spared, he found 
 a couple of empty oat-bags; but they were too short. 
 
 When all were asleep, and he was still lying awake, shiver- 
 ing, his spirits already inclined to droop, he heard the door 
 of the wagon open. A voice called him, in a whisper. Jo- 
 hannes scrambled out into sight, and recognized Marjon's 
 dark sister. 
 
 "Why don't you come in here. Kiddie?" she asked. 
 
 The truth was that Johannes, above all else, feared the 
 closeness and the fleas. But he would not off"er these insulting 
 reasons, so he replied — intending to be very courteous and 
 praiseworthy: "But that would not do for me — to be with 
 you! 
 
 Now, formality is not a very strong point in a house-wagon. 
 In the very stateliest, a curtain does indeed sometimes define 
 
 223
 
 224 THEQUEST 
 
 two sleeping-rooms at night, thus denoting regard for the pro- 
 prieties. But in most cases the custom is to do as do the birds 
 which change their suits but once a year, and not too much, at 
 that; and as do the mice which also have no separate bedrooms. 
 
 "Aw! Come, Boy! You're silly. Just come on! It's all 
 right." 
 
 And when Johannes, perplexed and very bashful, hesitated, 
 he felt a fat, heavy arm around his neck, and a soft, broad, 
 cold mouth upon his cheek. 
 
 "Come on. Youngster! Don't be afraid. Surely you are 
 not so green! Hey.'' It's time for me to make you wiser." 
 
 Now there was nothing Johannes had learned more to value 
 than wisdom, and he never willingly neglected a chance of be- 
 coming wiser. But this time there came to him a very clear 
 idea of the existence of an undesirable wisdom. 
 
 He had no time to deliberate over this wonderful discovery; 
 for, happily, there came to the help of his immature thoughts 
 a very strong feeling of aversion, so that for once he knew 
 betimes what he ought to do. 
 
 He said loudly, and firmly: "I will not! I rest better 
 here." And he crept back under the wagon. The swarthy 
 jade appeared not to like that, for she uttered an oath as she 
 turned away, and said: "Clear out, then!" Johannes did not 
 take it greatly to heart, although it did appear to him un- 
 fair. He slept, however, no more than before; and the sen- 
 sation of the recent touches, and the wretched odor of poor 
 perfumery which the woman had brought with her, remained 
 with him, to his distress. 
 
 As soon as it began to grow light, the door of the wagon was 
 again opened. Johannes, surprised, looked up. Marjon 
 came softly out in her bare feet, with an old purple shawl 
 thrown over her thin little shoulders. She went up to Jo- 
 hannes and sat down on the ground beside him. 
 
 "What did she do?" she asked, in a whisper. 
 
 "Who.'"' asked Johannes, in return. But that was from 
 embarrassment, for he well knew whom she meant.
 
 THEQUEST 225 
 
 "Now, you know well enough. Did you think I was sleep- 
 ing ? Did she give you a kiss ?" 
 
 Johannes nodded. 
 
 "Where.'' On your mouth .^" 
 
 "No. On my cheek." 
 
 "Thank God!" said Marjon. "You will not let her do it 
 again .'' She is a common thing!" 
 
 "I could not help it," said Johannes. 
 
 Marjon looked at him thoughtfully a few moments, with 
 her clear, light grey eyes. 
 
 "Do you dare steal ?" she asked then, abruptly. 
 
 "No," said Johannes. "I dare to, but it's wrong." 
 
 "Indeed it isn't!" said Marjon, very emphatically. "In- 
 deed, it is not! It's only a question of who from. Stealing 
 from one another is mean, but from the public is allowable. I 
 must not steal from that woman any more than from Lorum. 
 But you may steal from the huzzy, if you only dared." 
 
 "Then can you steal from me, too?" asked Johannes. 
 Marjon looked at him in sudden surprise, and gave a pretty 
 laugh, showing her white, even teeth. 
 
 "A while ago I could, but not now. Now you belong to 
 me. But that woman has a lot of money and you have not." 
 
 "I have some money, too — fifty guldens. Aunt Serena 
 gave it to me." 
 
 Marjon drew in the air with her lips as if sipping something 
 delicious. Her pale face shone with pleasure. 
 
 "Five little golden Teners! Is it truly so ? But, Johannes, 
 then we are well off! We'll have a good time with them. 
 Shan't we ?" 
 
 "To be sure," assented Johannes, recovering himself. 
 "But I want to find Markus." 
 
 "That's good," said Marjon. "That's the best thing to do. 
 We'll both go looking for him." 
 
 "Right away ?" asked Johannes. 
 
 "No, you stupid! We should be nabbed in no time. We'll
 
 226 THEQUEST 
 
 start in the evening. Then, during the night, we can get a 
 good way oft. I'll give you the signal." 
 
 It was morning — clear and cool, yet growing warmer with 
 the early August sunshine. Ever}'^vhere over the dark heather 
 the dew-covered cobwebs were shining like clusters of spark- 
 ling stars. The fires of the foregoing evening were still smoul- 
 dering in the camp; and there was a smell of wood coals and 
 of honey. 
 
 Johannes was well pleased. There was a glowing little 
 flame also within himself. He felt that it was good to be alive, 
 and a joy to strive. It was a long, strange day, but he was 
 patient and happy in the thought of fleeing with Marjon. 
 The dark woman was friendly toward him again. He was 
 helping her in the circus the entire day, and had no chance to 
 speak with Marjon. But now and then they gave each other 
 a look full of complete understanding. That was delightful! 
 Never before in his every-day life had Johannes experienced 
 anything so delightful. 
 
 That evening there was an exhibition, and Marjon per- 
 formed her tricks. Johannes felt very proud and important 
 because he belonged to the troupe, and was looked upon by 
 the public as an athlete or an equestrian. He might stand, 
 in topboots and with a whip, at the entrance to the stall, but 
 he must not perform a single trick, nor once crack his whip. 
 
 When it was good and dark, and everybody was asleep 
 again, Marjon came to summon him. He could scarcely 
 distinguish her figure; but he knew by a soft, grunting sound, 
 that she carried Kees, her monkey, on her arm. She thrust 
 her guitar into Johannes' hand, and said in a low tone: "Move 
 on, now!" 
 
 They set out hastily and in silence, Marjon taking the lead. 
 First they went ,by the highway; then they took a footpath 
 along the river; and then, at a ferry, they softly unfastened a 
 small boat, and pushed out into the current. 
 
 "Keep your wits about you, Jo, and be on the lookout!"
 
 THEQUEST 227 
 
 **We shall be overtaken," said Johannes, not quite at his 
 ease. 
 
 "Are you afraid ?" 
 
 "No, not afraid," said Johannes, although the truth was 
 that he was trying not to be; " but where are we going to bring 
 up ? And how can we keep out of the way if a boat should 
 come along ? We have no oars!" 
 
 " I wish a boat would come. Then we'd go on with it." 
 
 "Where do you want to go, Marjon ?" 
 
 "Well, over the frontier, of course. Otherwise they'll catch 
 us. 
 
 "But Markus!" 
 
 "We'll find him, by and by — only come on now." 
 
 In silence the two children drifted out over the still, black 
 water, which here and there bubbled past a floating log, or a 
 barrel. Everything was mysterious. It was pitch dark, and 
 th'ere was no wind. The reeds, even, scarcely sighed. Keesje 
 whined, complainingly, not liking the cold. 
 
 " But who is Markus, Marjon ? Do you know .'' " 
 
 "You must not ask that, Jo. You must trust him. I do." 
 
 Then they heard a dull, fitfully throbbing sound that slowly 
 drew nearer from the distance, and Johannes saw red and 
 white lanterns ahead of them. 
 
 "A steamboat!" he cried. "What are we going to do 
 now : 
 
 "Sing!" said Marjon, without a moment's hesitation. 
 
 The boat came very gradually, and Johannes saw in the 
 rear of her a long file of little lights, like a train of twinkling 
 stars. It was a steam-tug with a heavy draught of Rhine- 
 boats. It seemed to be panting and toiling with its burden, 
 against the powerful current. 
 
 They stayed a boat's length away from the tug, but its long, 
 unwieldy train — swinging out in a great curve at the rear — 
 came nearer and nearer.
 
 228 THEQUEST 
 
 Marjon took her guitar and began to sing, and suddenly, 
 with the sound of lapping water and throbbing engines, the 
 music was ringing out in the still night — exquisite and clear. 
 She sang a well-known German air, but with the following 
 words: 
 
 "Tho' on dark depths of waters 
 I fear not and am strong, 
 For I know who will guard me 
 And guide me all life long." 
 
 "Are you tipsy, there, or tired of life? What do you put 
 yourself across the channel for — and without a light ^ " 
 rang out over the water from one of the vessels. 
 
 "Help! Throw a line!" cried Marjon. 
 
 "Help! help!" cried Johannes, after her. 
 
 Then a rope came wabbling across their oarless craft. By 
 good luck Johannes caught it, and pulled himself, hand over 
 hand, up to the vessel. The helmsman, standing beside the 
 great, high-arched rudder, looked overboard, with a lantern 
 in his hand. 
 
 "What wedding do you hail from ?" 
 
 Johannes and Marjon climbed into the boat and Marjon 
 pushed off their own little shallop. 
 
 "Two boys!" exclaimed the helmsman. 
 
 "And a monkey!" subjoined Marjon. 
 
 Johannes looked round at her. By the light of the lantern 
 he saw a little figure that he hardly recognized — a slip of a 
 boy wearing a cap on his closely cropped head. She had 
 sacrificed for the flight her silky blonde hair. Keesje's head 
 was sticking up out of her jacket, and he was blinking briskly 
 in the glare of the lantern. 
 
 "Oh, that's it! Fair-folk!" grumbled the skipper. "What's 
 to become of that boat ?" 
 
 "It knows the way home!" said Marjon.
 
 XII 
 
 I WILL simply tell you, without delay, in order that you may 
 be able to read what follows in peace of mind, that Johannes 
 and Marjon became husband and wife ere the ending of the 
 story. But at the time the old skipper pointed out to them a 
 comfortable sleeping-corner in the deck-house of the long 
 Rhine-boat, they had not the least idea of it. Being very 
 tired, they were soon lying, like two brothers, in deep sleep, 
 with Keesje, now warm and contented, between them. 
 
 When it grew light, the whole world seemed to have vanished. 
 Johannes had been wakened by the rattling of the anchor- 
 chains, and when he looked out, he saw on all sides nothing 
 but white, foggy light; no sky, no shore — only, just under the 
 little windows, the yellow river current. But he heard the 
 striking of the town clocks, and even the crowing of cocks. 
 Therefore the world was still there, as fine as ever, only hidden 
 away under a thick white veil. 
 
 The boats lay still, for they could not be navigated. So 
 long as the waters of the Rhine could not be seen frothing 
 about the anchor-chains, so long must they wait for a chance 
 to know the points of the compass. Thus they remained for 
 hours in the still, thick white light, listening to the muffled 
 sounds of the town coming from the shore. 
 
 The two children ran back and forth over the long, long 
 vessel, and had a fine time. They had already become good 
 friends of the skipper, especially since he had learned that they 
 could pay for their passage. They ate their bread and sausage, 
 peering into the fog in suspense, for fear that Lorum and the 
 dark woman might be coming in a boat to overtake them. 
 They knew that they could not yet be very far away from their 
 last camping-place. 
 
 At last the mists grew thinner and thinner, and fled from 
 before the shining face of the sun; and, although the earth still 
 
 229
 
 230 THEQUEST 
 
 remained hidden beneath swirhng white, up above began to 
 appear the glorious blue. 
 
 And this was the beginning of a fine day for Johannes. 
 
 Sighing and groaning, as if with great reluctance, the tug- 
 boat began again its toilful course up the stream. The still, 
 summer day was warm, the wide expanse of water sparkled 
 in the sun, and on both sides the shores were gliding gently 
 by — - their grey-green reeds, and willows and poplars, all fresh 
 and dewy, peeping through the fog. 
 
 Johannes lay on the deck, gazing at land and water, while 
 Marjon sat beside him. Keesje amused himself with the 
 tackle rope, chuckling with satisfaction every now and then, 
 as he sprang back and forth, with a serious look, after a flitting 
 bird or insect. 
 
 "Marjon," said Johannes, "how did you know so certainly 
 yesterday that there was nothing to be afraid oH" 
 
 "Some one watches over me," said Marjon. 
 
 "Who?" asked Johannes. 
 
 "Father." 
 
 Johannes looked at her, and asked, softly: 
 
 "Do you mean your own father?" 
 
 But Marjon made a slight movement of her head toward 
 the green earth, the flowing water, the blue sky and the sun- 
 shine, and said, with peculiar significance, as if now it was 
 quite clear to her: 
 
 "No! I mean The Father." 
 
 "The Father Markus speaks about?" 
 
 "Yes, Of course," said Marjon. 
 
 Johannes was silent a while, gazing at the rapid flow of the 
 water, and the slower and slower course of things according 
 to their distance in the rear. His head was full of ideas, each 
 one eager for utterance. But it is delightful to lie thus and view 
 a passing country spread out under the clear light — letting the 
 thoughts come very calmly, and selecting carefully those worthy 
 of being clad in speech. Many are too tender and sensitive to 
 be accorded that honor, but yet they may not be meanest ones.
 
 THE QUEST 231 
 
 Johannes first selected a stray thought. 
 
 "Is that your own idea ?" he asked. Marjon was not quick 
 with an answer, herself, this time. 
 
 "My own ? No. Markus told me it. But I knew it my- 
 self, though. I knew it, but he said it. He drew it out of me. 
 I remember everything he says — everything — even although 
 I don't catch on." 
 
 "Is there any good in that V' asked Johannes, thoughtlessly. 
 
 Marjon looked at him disdainfully, and said: 
 
 " Jimminy! You're just like Kees. He doesn't know either 
 that he can do more with a quarter than with a cent. When I 
 got my first quarter, I didn't catch on, either, but then I noticed 
 that I could get a lot more candy with it than with a cent. 
 Then I knew better what to do. So now I treasure the things 
 Markus has said — all of them." 
 
 " Do you think as much of him as I do ^ " asked Johannes. 
 
 "More," said Marjon. 
 
 "That cannot be." 
 
 Then there was another long pause. The boat was not in a 
 hurry, neither was the sun, and the broad stream made even 
 less haste. And so the children, as well, took plenty of time 
 in their talking. 
 
 "Yes, but you see," Johannes began again, "when people 
 speak of our Father, they mean God, and God is . . ." 
 
 What was it again, that Windekind had said about God ? 
 The thought came to him, and clothed in the old terms. But 
 Johannes hesitated. The terms were surely not attractive. 
 
 "What is God, now?" asked Marjon. 
 
 The old jargon must be used. There was nothing better. 
 
 "... An oil-lamp, where the flies stick fast." 
 
 Marjon whistled — a shrill whistle of authority — a circus- 
 command. Keesje, who was sitting on the foremast, thought- 
 fully inspecting his outstretched hind foot, started up at once, 
 and came sliding down the steel cable, in dutiful haste. 
 
 "Here, Kees! Attention!" 
 
 Kees grumbled assent, and was instantly on the alert, for
 
 232 THEQUEST 
 
 he was well drilled. His sharp little brown eyes scarcely 
 strayed for one second away from the face of his mistress. 
 
 "The young gentleman here says he knows what God is. 
 Do you know ?" 
 
 Keesje shook his head quickly, showing all his sharp little 
 white teeth in a grin. One would have said he was laughing, 
 but his small eyes peered as seriously as ever from Marjon's 
 mouth to her hand. There was nothing to laugh at. He 
 must pay attention. That was clear. Goodies were bound 
 to follow — or blows. 
 
 But Marjon laughed loudly. 
 "Here, Kees! Good Kees!" 
 
 And then he had the dainties, and soon was up on the mast, 
 smacking aloud as he feasted. 
 
 The result of this affront was quite unexpected to Marjon. 
 Johannes, who had been lying prone on the deck, with his chin 
 in his hands, gazed sadly for a while at the horizon, and then 
 hid his face in his folded arms, his body shaking with sobs. 
 
 "Stop now, Jo; you're silly! Cry for that!" said Marjon, 
 half frightened, trying to pull his arms away from his face. 
 But Johannes shook his head. 
 
 "Hush! Let me think," said he. 
 
 Marjon gave him about a quarter of an hour, and then she 
 spoke, gently and kindly, as if to comfort him: 
 
 "I know what you wanted to say, dear Jo. That's the 
 reason, too, why I always speak of The Father. I understand 
 that the best; because, you see, I never knew my earthly father, 
 but he must have been much better than other fathers. 
 "Why.?" asked Johannes. 
 
 "Because I am much better than all those people round 
 about me, and better than that common, dark woman who had 
 another father." 
 
 Marjon said this quite simply, thinking it to be so. She 
 said it in a modest manner, while feeling that it was something 
 which ought to be spoken. 
 
 "Not that I have been so very good. Oh, no! But yet I
 
 THE QUEST 233 
 
 have been better than the others, and that was because of the 
 father; for my mother, too, was only a member of a troupe. 
 And now it is so lovely that I can say 'Father' just as Markus 
 does!" 
 
 Johannes looked at her, with the sadness still in his eyes, 
 
 "Yes, but all the meanness, the ugliness, and the sorrow that 
 our Father permits! First, He launches us into the world, 
 helpless and ignorant, without telling us anything. And then, 
 when we do wrong because we know no better, we are punished. 
 Is that fatherly?" 
 
 But Marjon said: 
 
 "Did you fancy it was not ? Kees gets punished, too, so he 
 will learn. And now that he is clever and well taught he gets 
 hardly any blows — only tid-bits. Isn't that so, Kees?" 
 
 "But, Marjon, did you not tell me how you found Kees — • 
 shy, thin, and mangy — his coat all spoiled with hunger and 
 beatings; and how he has remained timid ever since, because 
 a couple of rascally boys had mistreated him ?" 
 
 Marjon nodded, and said: 
 
 "There are rascals, and deucedly wicked boys, and very 
 likely there is a Devil, also; but I am my Father's child and not 
 afraid of Him, nor what He may do with me." 
 
 "But if He makes you ill, and lets you be ill-treated ? If 
 He lets you do wrong, and then leaves you to cry about it ? 
 And if He makes you foolish ?" 
 
 Keesje was coming down from the mast, very softly and 
 deliberately. With his black, dirty little hands he cautiously 
 and hesitatingly touched the boy's clothes that Marjon was 
 wearing. He wanted to go to sleep, and had been used to a 
 soft lap. But his mistress took him up, and hid him in her 
 jacket. Then he yawned contentedly, like a little old man, 
 and closed his pale eyelids in sleep — his little face looking very 
 pious with its eyebrows raised in a saintly arch. Marjon 
 said: 
 
 "If I should go and ill-treat Keesje, he would make a great 
 fuss about it, but still he would stay with me."
 
 234 THE QUEST 
 
 "Yes; but he would do the same with a common tramp," 
 said Johannes. 
 
 Marjon shook her head, doubtfully. 
 
 "Kees is rather stupid — much more so than you or I, but 
 yet not altogether stupid. He well knows who means to treat 
 him rightly. He knows well that I do not ill-treat him for 
 my own pleasure. And you see, Jo, I know certainly, ever so 
 certainly — that my Father will not ill-treat me without a 
 reason." 
 
 Johannes pressed her hand, and asked passionately: 
 
 "How do you know that .^ How do you know ?" 
 
 Marjon smiled, and gave him a gentle look. 
 
 "Exactly as I know you to be a good boy — one who does 
 not lie. I can tell that about you in various ways I could not 
 explain — by one thing and another. So, too, I can see that 
 my Father means well by me. By the flowers, the clouds, the 
 sparkling water. Sometimes it makes me cry — it is so plain." 
 
 Then Johannes remembered how he had once been taught 
 to pray, and his troubled thoughts grew calmer. Yet he could 
 not refrain from asking — because he had been so much with 
 Pluizer: 
 
 "Why might not that be a cheat ?" 
 
 Suddenly Keesje waked up and looked behind him at 
 Johannes, in a frightened way. 
 
 "Ah, there you are!" exclaimed Marjon, impatiently. 
 "That's exactly as if you asked why the summer might not 
 perchance be the winter. You can ask that, any time. I 
 know my Father just for the very reason that He does not de- 
 ceive. If Markus was only here he would give it to you ! " 
 
 "Yes, if he was only here!" repeated Johannes, not appear- 
 ing to be afraid of what Markus might do to him. 
 
 Then in a milder way, Marjon proceeded: 
 
 "Do you know what Markus says, Jo .^ When the Devil 
 stands before God, his heart is pierced by genuine trust." 
 
 "Should I trust the Devil, then ?" asked Johannes. 
 
 "Well, no! How could that be? Nobody can do that.
 
 THEQUEST 235 
 
 You must trust the Father alone. But even if you are so un- 
 lucky as to see the Devil before you see the Father, that makes 
 no difference, for he has no chance against sincere trust. That 
 upsets his plans, and at the same time pleases the Father." 
 
 "Oh, Marjon! Marjon!" said Johannes, clasping his 
 hands together in his deep emotion. She smiled brightly and 
 said: 
 
 "Now you see that was a quarter out of my savings-box!" 
 
 Really, it was a very happy day for Johannes. He saw great, 
 white, piled-up clouds, tall trees in the light of the rising sun, 
 still houses on the river-banks, and the rushing stream — 
 with violet and gold sparkling in the broad bends — ever flow- 
 ing through a fruitful, verdant country; and over all, the deep, 
 deep blue — and he whispered: "Father — Father!" In an 
 instant, he suddenly comprehended all the things he saw as 
 splendid, glorious Thoughts of the Father, which had always 
 been his to observe, but only now to be wholly understood. 
 The Father said all this to him, as a solemn admonition that 
 He it was — pure and true, eternally guarding, ever waiting 
 and accessible, behind the unlovely and the deceitful. 
 
 "Will you always stay with me, Marjon?" he asked 
 earnestly. 
 
 "Yes, Jo, that I will. And you with me ?" 
 
 Then Little Johannes intrepidly gave his promise, as if 
 he really knew what the future held for him, and as if he had 
 power over his entire unknown existence. 
 
 "Yes, dear Marjon, I will never leave you again. I promise 
 you. We remain together, but as friends. Do you agree ? 
 No foolishness!" 
 
 "Very well, Jo. As you like," said Marjon. After that 
 they were very still.
 
 XIII 
 
 It was evening, and they were nearing Germany, The dwell- 
 ings on the river-hanks no longer looked fresh and bright 
 colored, but faded and dirty. Then they came to a poor, 
 shabby-looking town, with rusty walls, and grey houses in- 
 scribed with flourishing black letters. 
 
 The boats went up the stream to lie at anchor, and the 
 custom-house officers came. Then Marjon, rousing up from 
 the brown study into which Johannes' last question had 
 plunged her, said: 
 
 "We must sing something, Jo. Only think! Your Aunt's 
 money will soon be gone. We must earn some more." 
 
 " Can we do it ? " asked Johannes. 
 
 "Easy. You just furnish the words and I'll take care of the 
 music. If it isn't so fine at first, that doesn't matter. You'll 
 see how the money rains down, even if they don't understand 
 a thing." 
 
 Marjon knew her public. It came out as she said it would. 
 When they began to sing, the brusque customs collectors, the 
 old skipper, and other ships' folk in the boats lying next them, 
 all listened; and the stokers of the little tugboat stuck their 
 soot-begrimed faces out of the machine-room hatch, and they, 
 also, listened. For those two young voices floated softly and 
 harmoniously out over the calmly flowing current, and there 
 was something very winning in the two slender brothers — 
 something fine and striking. They were quite unlike the 
 usual circus-people. There was something about them 
 which instantly made itself felt, even upon a rude audience, 
 although no one there could tell in what it consisted, nor 
 understand what they were singing about, nor even the 
 words. 
 
 At first they sang their old songs — The Song of the Butter- 
 fly, and the melancholy song that Marjon had made alone, 
 
 236
 
 THEQUEST 237 
 
 and which Johannes, rather disdainfully, had named The 
 Nurse-Maid's Song, and also the one Marjon had composed 
 in the evening, in the hoat. But when Marjon said, "You 
 must make something new," Johannes looked very serious, 
 and said: 
 
 "You cannot make verses — they are born as much as 
 children are." 
 
 Marjon blushed; and, laughing in her confusion, she re- 
 plied: "What silly things you do say, Jo. It's well that the 
 dark woman doesn't hear you. She might take you in 
 hand." 
 
 After a moment of silence, she resumed: "I believe you talk 
 trash, Jo. When I make songs the music does come of itself; 
 but I have to finish it off, though. I must t7jake — compose, 
 you know. It's exactly," she continued, after a pause, as if 
 a troop of children came in, all unexpected — wild and in 
 disorder, and as if, like a school-teacher, I made them pass in 
 a procession — two by two — and stroked their clothing 
 smooth, and put flowers in their hands, and then set them 
 marching. That's the way I make songs, and so must you 
 make verses. Try now!" 
 
 "Exactly," said Johannes; '"but yet the children must first 
 come of themselves." 
 
 "But are they not all there, Jo ?" 
 
 Gazing up into the great dome of the evening sky, where 
 the pale stars were just beginning to sparkle, Johannes thought 
 it over. He thought of the fine day he had had, and also of 
 what he had felt coming into his head. 
 
 "Really," said Marjon, rather drily, "you'll just have to, 
 whether you want to or not — to keep from starving." 
 
 Then, as if desperately alarmed, Johannes went in search 
 of pencil and paper; and truly, in came the disorderly chil- 
 dren, and he arranged them in file, prinked them up, and 
 dealt them out flowers.
 
 238 THEOUEST 
 
 He first wrote this: 
 
 "Tell me what means the bright sunshine, 
 The great and restless river Rhine, 
 
 This teeming land of flocks and herds — 
 The high, wide blue of summer sky, 
 Where fleecy clouds in quiet lie. • 
 
 To catch the lilt of happy birds. 
 
 "The Father thinks, and spreads his dream 
 As sun and heaven, field and stream. 
 
 I feast on his creation — 
 And when that thought is understood. 
 Then shall my soul confess Him good, 
 
 And kneel in adoration." 
 
 Marjon read it, and slowly remarked, as she nodded: "Very 
 well, Jo, but I'm afraid I can't make a song of it. At least, not 
 now. I must have something with more life and movement in 
 it. This is too sober — I must have something that dances. 
 Can't you say something about the stars ? I just love them 
 so! Or about the river, or the sun, or about the autumn .f"* 
 
 "I will try to," said Johannes, looking up at the twinkling 
 dots sprinkled over the dark night-sky. 
 
 Then he composed the following song, for which Marjon 
 quickly furnished a melody, and soon they were both singing: 
 
 "One by one from their sable fold 
 
 Came the silent stars with twinkling eyes, 
 And their tiny feet illumed like gold 
 The adamantine skies. 
 
 "And when they'd climbed the domed height — • 
 So happy and full of glee, 
 There sang those stars with all their might 
 A song of jubilee."
 
 THE QUEST 
 
 239 
 
 It was a success. Their fresh young voices were floating 
 and ghding and intertwining hke two bright garlands, or 
 two supple fishes sporting in clear water, or two butterflies 
 fluttering about each other in the sunshine. The brown old 
 skipper grinned, and the grimy-faced stokers looked at them 
 approvingly. They did not understand it, but felt sure it must 
 be a merry love-song. Three times — four times through — 
 the children sang the song. Then, little by little, the night 
 fell. But Johannes had still more to say. The sun, and the 
 splendid summer day that had now taken its leave, had left 
 behind a sweet, sad longing, and this he wanted to put upon 
 paper. Lying stretched out on the deck, he wrote the follow- 
 ing, by the light of the lantern: 
 
 "Oh, golden sun — oh, summer light, 
 I would that I miffht see thee bright 
 
 Thro' long, drear, winter days! 
 Thy brightest rays have all been shed — 
 Full soon thy glory will have fled, 
 And cold winds blow; 
 While all dear, verdant ways 
 Lie deep in snow." 
 
 As he read the last line aloud, his voice was full of emotion. 
 
 "That's fine, Jo!" said Marjon. "I'll soon have it ready." 
 
 And after a half-hour of trying and testing, she found for 
 the verses a sweet air, full of yearning. 
 
 And they sang it, in the dusk, and repeated the former one, 
 until a troupe of street musicians of the sort called "tooters" 
 came boisterously out of a beer-house on the shore, and 
 drowned their tender voices with a flood of loud, dissonant, and 
 brazen tones. 
 
 "Mum, now," said Marjon, "we can't do anything against 
 that braying. But never mind. We have two of them now 
 — The Star Song and The /Autumn Song. At this rate we 
 shall get rich. And I'll make something yet out of The Father
 
 240 THEQUEST 
 
 Song; but in the morning, I think — not to-night. We've 
 earned at least our day's wages, and we can go on a lark with 
 contented minds. Will you go, Jo.-*" 
 
 "Marjon," said Johannes, musingly, hesitating an instant 
 before he consented, "do you know who Pluizer is V 
 
 "No!" said Marjon, bluntly. 
 
 "Do you know what he would say V 
 
 "Well?" asked Marjon, with indifference. 
 
 "That you are altogether impossible." 
 
 "Impossible? Why?" 
 
 "Because you cannot exist, he would say. Such beings do 
 not and cannot exist." 
 
 "Oh, he must surely mean that I ought only to steal and 
 swear and drink gin. Is that it ? Because I'm a circus-girl, 
 hey ?" 
 
 "Yes, he would say something like that. And he would 
 also call this about the Father nothing but rot. He says the 
 clouds are only wetness, and the sunshine quiverings, and 
 nothing else ; that they could be the expression of anything is 
 humbug." 
 
 "Then he would surely say that, too, of a book of music ?" 
 asked Marjon. 
 
 "That I do not know," replied Johannes, "but he does say 
 that light and darkness are exactly the same thing." 
 
 "Oh! Then I know him very well. Doesn't he say, also, 
 that it's the same thing if you stand on your head or on your 
 heels ? " 
 
 "Exactly — that is he," said Johannes, delighted. "What 
 have you to say about it ?" 
 
 "That for all I care he can stay standing on his head; and 
 more, too, he can choke!" 
 
 "Is that enough?" asked Johannes, somewhat doubt- 
 fully. 
 
 "Certainly," said Marjon, very positively. "Should I have 
 to tell him that daytimes it is light, and night-times it is 
 dark ? But what put you in mind of that Jackanapes ?"
 
 THEQUEST 241 
 
 "I do not know," said Johannes. "I think it was those 
 tooters." 
 
 Then they went into the deck-house where Keesje was 
 already lying on the broad, leather-cushioned settee, all rolled 
 up in a little ball, and softly snoring; and this cabin served the 
 two children as a lodging-house.
 
 XIV 
 
 On the second day they came to the great cathedral which, 
 fortunately, was then not yet complete, and made Johannes 
 think of a magnificent, scrag-covered cliff. And when he 
 heard that it was really going to be completed, up to the highest 
 spire, he was filled with respect for those daring builders and 
 their noble creation. He did not yet know that it is often 
 better to let beautiful conceptions rest, for the reason that, 
 upon earth, consummated works are sometimes really less fine 
 and striking than incomplete projects. 
 
 And when at last, on the third evening, be found himself 
 among the mountains, he was in raptures. It was a jovial 
 world. Moving, over the Rhine in every direction were 
 brightly lighted steamboats laden with happy people, feast- 
 ing and singing. Between the dark, vine-covered mountains 
 the river reflected the rosy, evening light. Music rang on the 
 water; music came from both banks. People were sitting 
 on terraces, under leafy bowers, around pretty, shining 
 lamps — drinking gold-colored wine out of green goblets; 
 and the clinking of glasses and sound of loud laughter came 
 from the banks. And, singing as they stepped, down the 
 mountains came others, in their shirt sleeves, carrying 
 their jackets on alpenstocks over their shoulders. The 
 evening sky was aflame in the west, and the vineyard foliage 
 and the porphyry rocks reflected the glowing red. Hurrah! 
 One ought to be happy here. Truly, it seemed a jolly way 
 of living. 
 
 Johannes and Marjon bade their long ark farewell, and went 
 ashore. It saddened Johannes to leave the dear boat, for he 
 was still a sentimental little fellow, who promptly attached 
 himself by delicate tendrils to that which gave him happiness. 
 And so the parting was painful. 
 
 They now began the work of earning their livelihood. And 
 
 242
 
 THE QUEST 243 
 
 Keesjc's idle days were over, as well. They put his little red 
 jacket upon him, and he had to climb trees, and pull up 
 pennies in a basin. 
 
 And the children had to sing their songs until they lost their 
 charm, and Johannes grew weary enough with them. 
 
 But they earned more — much more than Markus with his 
 scissors-grinding. The big, heavily moustached, and whis- 
 kered gentlemen, the prettily dressed and perfumed ladies, 
 sitting on the hotel terraces, looked at them with intolerable 
 arrogance, saying all kinds of jesting things — things which 
 Johannes only half understood, but at which they themselves 
 laughed loudly. But in the end they almost all gave — some 
 copper, some silver — until the frised waiters, in their black 
 coats and white shirt-fronts, crossly drove them away, fearing 
 that their own fees might be diminished. 
 
 Marjon it was who dictated the next move, who was never 
 at a loss, who dared the waiters with witty speeches, and always 
 furnished advice. And when they had been singing rather 
 too much, she began twirling and balancing plates. She spoke 
 the strange tongue with perfect fluency, and she also looked 
 for their night's resting-place. 
 
 The public — the stupid, proud, self-satisfied people who 
 seemed to think only of their pleasure — did not wound Marjon 
 so much as they did Johannes. 
 
 When their snobbishness and rudeness brought tears to his 
 eyes, or when he was hurt on account of their silly jests, 
 Marjon only laughed. 
 
 "But do not you care, Marjon.?" asked Johannes, indig- 
 nantly. " Does it not annoy you that they, every one of them, 
 seem to think themselves so much finer, more important, and' 
 fortunate beings than you and I, when, instead, they are so 
 stupid and ugly .?" 
 
 And he thought of the people Wistik had shown him. 
 
 "Well, but what of it?" said Marjon, merrily. "We get 
 our living out of them. If they only give, I don't care a rap.
 
 244 THEQUEST 
 
 Kees is much uglier, and you laugh about it as much as I do. 
 Then why don't you laugh at the snobs ? " 
 
 Johannes meditated a long time, and then replied: 
 
 "Keesje never makes me angry; but sometimes, when he 
 looks awfully like a man, then I have to cry over him, because 
 he is such a poor, dirty little fellow. But those people make 
 me angry because they fancy themselves to be so much." 
 
 Marjon looked at him very earnestly, and said: 
 
 "What a good boy you are! As to the people — the 
 public — why, I've always been taught to get as much out of 
 'em as I could. I don't care for them so much as I care for 
 their money. I make fun of them. But you do not, and 
 that's why you're better. That's why I like you." 
 
 And she pressed her fair head, with its glossy, short-cut hair, 
 closer against his shoulder, thinking a little seriously about 
 those hard words, "no foolishness." 
 
 They were happy days — that free life, the fun of earning 
 the pennies, and the beautiful, late-summer weather amid the 
 mountains. But the nights were less happy. Oh! what 
 damp, dirty rooms and beds they had to use, because Fair- 
 people could not, for even once, afford to have anything better. 
 They were so rank with onions, and frying fat, and things even 
 worse! On the walls, near the pillows, were suspicious stains; 
 and the thick bed-covers were so damp, and warm, and much 
 used! Also, without actual reason for it, but merely from 
 imagination, Johannes felt creepy all over w^hen their resting- 
 place was recommended to them, with exaggerated praise, as 
 a "very tidy room." 
 
 Marjon took all this much more calmly, and always fell 
 asleep in no time, while Johannes sometimes lay awake for 
 hours, restless and shrinking because of the uncleanliness. 
 
 "It's nothing, if only you don't think about it," said Marjon, 
 "and these people always live in this way." 
 
 And what astonished Johannes still more in Marjon was 
 that she dared to step up so pluckily to the German function- 
 aries, constables, officers, and self-conceited citizens.
 
 THEQUEST 245 
 
 It is fair to say that Johannes was afraid of such people. 
 A railway official with a gruft', surly voice; a policeman with 
 his absolutely inexorable manner; a pufFed-out, strutting pea- 
 cock of an officer, looking down upon the world about him, 
 right and left; a red-faced, self-asserting man, with his mous- 
 tache trained up high, and with ring-covered fingers, calling 
 vociferously for champagne, and appearing very much satis- 
 fied with himself, — all these Marjon delighted to ridicule, 
 but Johannes felt a secret dread of them. He was as much 
 afraid of all these beings as of strange, wild animals; and he 
 could not understand Marjon's calm impudence toward them. 
 
 Once, when a policeman asked about their passport, Jo- 
 hannes felt as if all were lost. Face to face with the harsh 
 voice, the broad, brass-buttoned breast, and the positive 
 demand for the immediate showing of the paper, Johannes 
 felt as if he had in front of him the embodied might of the 
 great German Empire, and as if, in default of the thing de- 
 manded, there remained for him no mercy. 
 
 But, in astonishment, he heard Marjon whisper in Dutch: 
 "Hey, boy! Don't be upset by that dunce!" 
 
 To dare to say "that dunce," and of such an awe-inspiring 
 personage, was, in his view, an heroic deed; and he was greatly 
 ashamed of his own cowardice. 
 
 And Marjon actually knew how, with her glib tongue and 
 the exhibition of some gold-pieces, to win this representative 
 of Germany's might to assume a softer tone, and to permit 
 them to escape without an inspection. 
 
 But it was another matter when Keesje, seated upon the 
 arm of a chair, behind an unsuspecting lieutenant, took it 
 into his little monkey-head to reach over the shining epaulet, 
 and grasp the big cigar — probably with the idea of discover- 
 ing what mysterious enjoyment lay hidden in such an object. 
 Keesje missed the cigar, but caught hold of the upturned 
 moustache, and then, perceiving he had missed his mark, he 
 kept on pulling, spasmodically, from nervous fright. 
 
 The lieutenant, frightened, tortured, and in the end roundly
 
 246 THE QUEST 
 
 ridiculed, naturally became enraged; and an enraged German 
 lieutenant was quite the most awful creature in human guise 
 that Johannes had ever beheld. He expected nothing less 
 than a beginning of the Judgment Day — the end of all 
 things. 
 
 The precise details of that scrimmage he was never able 
 to recall with accuracy. There was a general fracas, a clatter 
 of iron chairs and stands, and vehement screeching from 
 Keesje, who behaved himself like murdered innocence. From 
 the lieutenant's highly flushed face Johannes heard at first a 
 word indicating that he was suspected of having vermin. 
 That left him cold, for he had been so glad to know that up 
 to this time he had escaped them. Then he saw that it was 
 not the shrieking Keesje, but Marjon herself, who had been 
 nabbed and was being severely pommeled. She had hurriedly 
 caught up the monkey, and was trying to flee with him. 
 
 Then his feelings underwent a sudden change, as if, in the 
 theatre of his soul, "The Captivity" scene were suddenly 
 shoved right and left to make place for "A Mountain View 
 in a Thunder-storm." 
 
 The next moment he found himself on the back of the tall 
 lieutenant, pounding away with all his might; at first on 
 something which off'ered rather too much resistance — a 
 shining black helmet — afterward, on more tender things 
 — ears and neck, presumably. At the same time he felt 
 himself, for several seconds, uncommonly happy. 
 
 In a trice there was another change in the situation, and he 
 discovered himself in a grip of steel, to be flung down upon the 
 dusty road in front of the terrace. Then he suddenly heard 
 Marjon's voice: 
 
 "Has he hurt you \ Can you run ? Quick, then; run like 
 lifrhtninrr!" 
 
 Without understanding why, Johannes did as she said. 
 The children ran swiftly down the mountain-side, slipped 
 through the shrubbery of a little park, climbed over a couple 
 of low, stone walls, and fled into a small house on the bank
 
 THEQUEST 247 
 
 of the river, where an old woman in a black kerchief sat peace- 
 fully plucking chickens. 
 
 Johannes and Marjon had continually met with helpfulness 
 and friendliness among poor and lowly people, and now they 
 were not sent off, although they were obliged to admit that 
 the police might be coming after them. 
 
 "Well, you young scamps," said the old woman, with a 
 playful chuckle, "then you must stay till night in the pigsty. 
 They'll not look for you there; it smells too bad. But take 
 care, if you wake Rike up, or if that gorilla of yours gets to 
 fighting with him!" 
 
 So there they sat in the pigsty with Rike the fat pig, who 
 made no movement except with his ears, and welcomed his 
 visitors with short little grunts. It began to rain, and they 
 sat as still as mice — - Keesje, also, who had a vague impression 
 that he was to blame for this sad state of things. Marjon 
 whispered: 
 
 "Who would have thought, Jo, that you cared so much for 
 me ? / was afraid this time, and you punched his head. It 
 was splendid! Mayn't I give you a kiss, now?" 
 
 In silence, Johannes accepted her offer. Then Marjon 
 went on: 
 
 "But we were both of us stupid; I, because I forgot all 
 about Kees, in the music; and you, because you let out about 
 me. 
 
 "Let out about you!" exclaimed Johannes, in amazement. 
 
 "Certainly," said Marjon, "by shouting out that I was 
 a girl!" 
 
 "Did I do that?" asked Johannes. It had quite slipped 
 out of his mind. 
 
 "Yes," said Marjon, "and now we're in a pickle again! 
 Other togs! You can't do that in these parts. That's worse 
 than hitting a lieutenant over the head, and we mustn't do 
 any more of that." 
 
 "Did he hit you hard?" asked Johannes. "Does it hurt 
 still?"
 
 248 THEQUEST 
 
 "Oh," said Marjon, lightly, "I've had worse lickings than 
 that." 
 
 That night, after dark, the old woman's son — the vine- 
 dresser — released them from Rike's hospitable dwelling, and 
 took them, in a rowboat, across the Rhine.
 
 XV 
 
 Bright and early one still, sunny morning they came to a 
 small watering-place nestled in the mountains. It was not 
 yet seven o'clock. A light mist clung around the dark -green 
 summits, and the dew was sparkling on the velvety green 
 grass, and over the flaming red geraniums, the white, 
 purple-hearted carnations, and the fragrant, brown-green 
 mignonette of the park. Fashionably dressed ladies and 
 gentlemen were drinking, according to advice, the hot, 
 saline waters of the springs; and later, while the cheerful 
 music played, they promenaded up and down the marble- 
 paved esplanade. 
 
 Marjon sought such places; for in them more was to be 
 earned. Already a couple of competitors were there before 
 them — a robust man and his little daughter. Both of them 
 were dressed in flesh-colored tights, and in spangled, black 
 velvet knickerbockers; but oh, how dusty and worn and 
 patched they were! The little girl was much younger than 
 Marjon, and had a vacant, impudent little face. She walked 
 on her hands in such a way that her feet dangled down over 
 her black, curly pate. 
 
 Johannes did not enjoy this encounter. Marjon and he 
 belonged to the better class of Fair-people. Their caps and 
 jackets just now were not, it is true, quite so fresh and well 
 brushed as formerly, but all that they had on was whole — 
 even their shoes. Johannes still wore his suit, which was that 
 of a young gentleman, and Marjon was wearing the velvet 
 stable-jacket of a circus-boy. They paid no attention to the 
 shabby Hercules and his little daughter. 
 
 In Marjon's case this was only from vexation because of 
 the competition; in Johannes', he well knew, it was pride. 
 He pitied that rough man with the barbarous face, and that 
 poor, dull child-acrobat; but it was not to his taste that he 
 
 249
 
 250 THEOUEST 
 
 should be thought their colleague and equal, by all these re- 
 spectable watering-place guests. 
 
 He was so vexed he would not sing; and he walked dreamily 
 on amid the flowers, with vague fancies, and a deep melan- 
 choly, in his soul. He thought of his childhood home, 
 and the kitchen-garden; of the dunes, and of the autumn day 
 when he went to the gardener's, at Robinetta's country home; 
 of Windekind, of Markus, and of Aunt Serena's flower- 
 garden. 
 
 The flowers looked at him with their wide-open, serious 
 eyes — the pinks, the stiff, striped zinias, and the flaming 
 yellow sunflowers. Apparently, they all pitied him, as if 
 whispering to one another: "Look! Poor Little Johannes! 
 Do you remember when he used to visit us in the land of elves 
 and flowers? He was so young and happy then! Now he 
 is sad and forsaken — a shabby circus-boy who must sing for 
 his living. Is it not too bad ?" 
 
 And the white, purple-hearted carnations rocjked to and 
 fro with compassion, and the great sunflowers hung their 
 heads and looked straight down, with dismay in their 
 eyes. 
 
 The sunshine was so calm and splendid, and the pointed 
 heads of the mignonette smelled so sweet! And when Jo- 
 hannes came to a bed of drooping blue lobelias that seemed 
 always to have shining drops of dewy tears in their eyes 
 purely from sympathy, then he felt so sorry himself for 
 poor Little Johannes that he had to go and sit down on 
 a bench to cry. And there, just as if they understood the 
 situation — ■ in the music tent, concealed by the shrubbery 
 — the portly band-master and his musicians, in their 
 flat, gold-embroidered caps, were playing, very feelingly, a 
 melancholy folksong. Marjon, however, who persistently 
 kept business in mind, was on the marble esplanade, deep 
 in jugglery with plates and eggs and apples. Johannes saw 
 it, and was a little ashamed of himself. He began trying to 
 make verses:
 
 THEQUEST 251 
 
 "Ah, scarlet geranium, blossom true! 
 
 Ah, lovely lobelia blue! 
 Why look those eyes so mournfully ? 
 
 For whom do you wear, 
 
 In the mornino; bright. 
 Those glistening tears of dew ? 
 
 "Ah! do you still know me? . . ." 
 
 But he got no further, because he found it too hard, and 
 also because he had no paper with him. 
 
 Just then Marjon came up: 
 
 "Why do you sit there bungling, Jo, and let me do all the 
 work ? As soon as the bread and butter comes you'll be sure 
 to be on hand." 
 
 She spoke rather tartly, and it was not surprising that 
 Johannes retorted curtly: 
 
 "I am not always thinking of money, and something to 
 eat, like you." 
 
 That hit harder than he thought; and now the sun was 
 sparkling not only upon the dew-drops in the lobelia's eyes, 
 but upon those in the two clear eyes of a little girl. However, 
 Marjon was not angry, but said gently: 
 
 "Were you making verses ?" 
 
 Johannes nodded, without speaking. 
 
 "Excuse me, Jo. May I hear them .f"' 
 
 And Johannes began: 
 
 "Ah, scarlet geranium, blossom true! 
 Ah, lovely lobelia blue! 
 Why look those eyes so earnestly ? 
 Why thus bedight, 
 This morning bright 
 With glistening tears of dew ? 
 
 ''Oh, do you still think of the olden days . , ."
 
 252 
 
 THE QUEST 
 
 Again he broke down, and gazed silently out before him, 
 with sorrowful eyes. 
 
 "Are you going to finish it, Jo?" asked Marjon with quiet 
 deference. "You just stay here, I shall get on very well 
 alone. See if I don't!" 
 
 And she returned to the fashionable, general promenade, 
 with Keesje, her plates, her eggs, and her apples. 
 
 Then Johannes looked up, and suddenly saw before him 
 something so charming and captivating that he became con- 
 scious of an entirely new sensation. It was as if until now he 
 had been living in a room whose walls were pictured with 
 flowers and mountains and waterfalls and blue sky, and as if 
 those walls had suddenly vanished, and he could see all about 
 him the real blue heavens, and the real woods and rivers. 
 
 The sunny, flower-filled little park of the watering-place 
 was bounded by steep rocks of porphyry. At the foot of them, 
 by the side of a small stream of clear, dark water, was a rich 
 growth of shadowy underwood. A small path led from the 
 mountain, and two children were descending it, hand in hand, 
 talking fast in their light, clear voices. 
 
 They were two little girls, about nine and ten years of age. 
 They wore black velvet frocks confined at the waist by colored 
 ribbons — one red, the other ivory-white. Each one had 
 trim, smoothly drawn stockings of the same color as her sash, 
 and fine, low shoes. They were bare-headed, and both had 
 thick golden hair that fell down over the black velvet in heavy, 
 glossy curls. 
 
 The musicians, as if aware of their presence, now played a 
 charming dance-tune, and the two little girls, with both hands 
 clasped together, began playfully keeping time with their 
 slender limbs — One, two, three — one, two, three — or the 
 " three-step, "as children say. And what Johannes experienced 
 when he saw and heard that, I am not going even to try to 
 describe to you, for the reason that he has never been able 
 himself to do it. 
 
 Only know that it was something very delightful and very
 
 THEQUEST 253 
 
 mysterious, for it made him think of Windekind's fairyland. 
 Why, was more than he could understand. 
 
 At first, it seemed as if something out of the glorious land 
 of Windekind and Father Pan had been brought to him, and 
 that it was those two little girls upon the mountain-path, 
 keeping time to the music with their slim little feet. 
 
 Then, hand in hand, the two children went through the 
 park, chatting as they went — now and then running, and 
 sometimes laughing merrily as they stopped beside a flower 
 or a butterfly, until, through the maze of promenaders, they 
 disappeared in the halls of a large hotel. 
 
 Johannes followed after them, wondering what they were 
 so much interested in, observing the while all their pretty 
 little ways, their intonations and winsome gestures, their 
 dainty dress, their beautiful hair and slender forms. 
 
 When he was again with Marjon, he could not help re- 
 marking how much less pretty she was — with her meagre 
 form and pale face — her larger hands and feet, and short, 
 ash-colored hair. Johannes said nothing about this little 
 adventure, but was very quiet and introspective. Because 
 of this, Marjon also was for a long time less merry than usual. 
 
 That afternoon, when they went the round of the place 
 again, trying to collect money from the families who, according 
 to the German custom, were taking cake and coffee in front 
 of the hotels and the pavilions, Johannes felt himself getting 
 very nervous in the neighborhood of the big hotel into which 
 the two little girls had gone. His heart beat so fast he could 
 not sing any more. 
 
 And sure enough, as they came nearer, he heard the very 
 same two bird-like little voices which had been ringing in his 
 ears the whole day long, shouting for joy. That was not on 
 account of Little Johannes, but of Keesje. For the first time 
 Johannes was fiercely jealous of him. 
 
 In a gentle, quieting way, a musical voice called out two 
 names : " Olga ! — Frieda ! " 
 
 But Johannes was too much confused and undone to note
 
 254 THEQUEST 
 
 clearly what he saw. It was they — the two lovely children 
 whom he had first seen in the morning — and they came close 
 up, and spoke to Keesje. Their mother called them again, 
 and then the children coaxed and pleaded, in most supplicating 
 tones, that the delightful monkey might be allowed to come a 
 little nearer — that they might give him some cake, and 
 that he might perform his tricks. 
 
 It seemed to Johannes as if he were in a dream — as if 
 everything around him were hazy and indistinct. He had 
 felt that way when he stood in Robinetta's house, confronted 
 by those hostile men. But then everything was dismal and 
 frightful, while now it was glad and glorious. He heard, 
 vaguely, the confusing sounds of voices, and the clatter of 
 cups and saucers, and silver utensils. He felt the touch of 
 the children's gentle little hands, and was led to a small table 
 whence the reproving voice had sounded. A lady and a gentle- 
 man were sitting there. Some dainties were given to Keesje. 
 
 "Can you sing ?" asked a voice in German. 
 
 Then Johannes bethought him for the first time that the 
 two little girls had been speaking in English. Marjon tuned 
 her guitar and gave him a hard poke in the side with the neck 
 of it, because she found him getting so flustered again. Then 
 they sang the song that Johannes had completed that morning, 
 and which Marjon had since put to music. 
 
 "Ah, scarlet geranium, blossom true! 
 
 Ah, lovely lobelia blue! 
 Why gaze at me so mournfully .'' 
 
 Why thus bedight. 
 
 This morning bright 
 With glistening tears of dew ? 
 
 "Ah! is't remembrance of olden days, 
 When the exquisite nightingale sung? 
 When the fairies danced, over mossy ways. 
 In the still moonlight.
 
 THE GUEST 255 
 
 'Neath the stars so bright, 
 When yet the world was young ? 
 
 "Ah, scarlet geranium, blossom true! 
 Ah, lovely lobelia blue! 
 The sun is grown dim, and the sky o'ercast, 
 The winds grow cold. 
 The world is old. 
 And the Autumn comes fast — so fast!" 
 
 Johannes was singing clearly again. The lump in his 
 throat had gone away as suddenly as it had come. 
 
 Then he heard the gentleman say in great astonishment: 
 "They are singing in Dutch!" And then they had to repeat 
 their song. 
 
 Johannes sang as he never yet had sung — with full fervor. 
 All his sadness, all his indefinite longings, found voice in 
 his song. Marjon accompanied him with soft, subdued 
 guitar-strokes, and with her alto voice. Yet the music was 
 entirely hers. 
 
 The effect upon the family at the table, moreover, was quite 
 different from that which up to this time they had produced. 
 The stylish lady uttered a prolonged "Ah!" in a soft, high 
 voice, and closely scanned the pair through a long-handled, 
 tortoise-shell lorgnette. The gentleman said in Dutch: "Fine! 
 First rate! Really, that is unusually good!" The little girls 
 clapped their hand, and shouted "Bravo! Bravo!" 
 
 Johannes felt his face glowing with pleasure and satisfaction. 
 Then the stylish lady, placing her lorgnette in her lap, said: 
 
 "Come up nearer, boys." She, too, now spoke in Dutch, 
 but with a foreign accent, that sounded very charming to 
 Johannes. 
 
 "Tell me," she said kindly, "where did you come from, 
 and where did you find that beautiful little song ?" 
 
 "We came from Holland, Mevrouw," replied Johannes, 
 still a trifle confused, "and we made the song ourselves."
 
 256 THEQUEST 
 
 "Made it yourselves!" exclaimed the lady, with affable 
 astonishment, while she exchanged a glance with the gentle- 
 man beside her. "The words, or the music?" 
 
 "Both," said Johannes. "I made the words, and my 
 friend the music." 
 
 "Well, well, well!" said the lady, smiling at his pretty air 
 of self-satisfaction. 
 
 And then they both had to sit at the table and have some 
 cake and coffee. Johannes was gloriously happy, but the 
 two dear little girls had eyes only for Keesje, whom they 
 tried cautiously to caress. When Keesje turned his head 
 round rather too suddenly, and looked at them too sharply 
 out of his piercing little brown eyes, they quickly withdrew 
 their small white hands, making merry little shrieks of fright. 
 How jealous Johannes was of Keesje! Marjon wore the 
 serious, indifferent expression of face that was native to her. 
 
 " Now tell us a little more," said the charming lady. " Surely 
 you are not common tramps, are you?" 
 
 Johannes looked into the refined face, and the eyes that 
 were slightly contracted from near-sightedness. It seemed 
 to him as if he never before had seen such a noble and beau- 
 tiful lady. She was far from old yet — perhaps thirty years 
 of age — and was very exquisitely dressed, with a cloud of 
 lace about her shoulders and wrists, pearls around her neck, 
 and wearing a profusion of sparkling rings and bracelets. 
 An exquisite perfume surrounded her, and as she looked at 
 Johannes, and addressed him so kindly, he was completely 
 enchanted and bewildered. Acceding to her request he 
 began, with joyful alacrity, to tell of himself and his life, of 
 the death of his father, of his Aunt Serena, and of his meeting 
 with Marjon, and their flight together. But still he was 
 discreet enough not to begin about Windekind and Pluizer, 
 and his first meeting with Markus. 
 
 The circle gave close attention, while Marjon looked as 
 dull and dejected as ever, and busied herself with Keesje. 
 
 "How extremely interesting!" said the children's mother,
 
 THE QUEST 257 
 
 addressing the gentleman who sat next her. "Do you not 
 think so, Mijnheer van Lieverlee ? — Very, very interesting ?" 
 
 "Yes, Mevrouw, I do, indeed — very pecuHar! It is a 
 find. What is your name, my boy ?" 
 
 "Johannes, Mijnheer." 
 
 "Is that so.'' — But you are not Johannes, the friend of 
 Windekind!" 
 
 Johannes blushed, and stammered in great confusion: 
 "Yes, — I am he, Mijnheer!" 
 
 Suddenly Keesje gave an ugly screech, causing the lady 
 and gentleman to start nervously. Evidently, Marjon had 
 pinched his tail — a thing she rarely did.
 
 XVI 
 
 See, now, what comes of not doing what I expressly desired! 
 Mijnheer van Lieverlee knew very well that I did not wish 
 Little Johannes to be taken in hand; and yet now it happened, 
 and, as you are to hear, with disastrous consequences. 
 
 Mijnheer van Lieverlee was not more than six years the 
 senior of Johannes. He had large blue eyes, a waxy white 
 face with two spots of soft color, a scanty, flax-like, double- 
 pointed beard, and a thick tuft of sandy hair artfully arranged 
 above his forehead. A scarf-pin of blue sapphires was spark- 
 ling in his broad, dark-violet scarf, a high, snow-white collar 
 reached from his modish coat-collar up to the hair in his neck, 
 and his hands — covered with rings — were resting on the 
 exquisitely carved, ivory head of an ebony walking-stick. 
 On the table, in front of him, lay a fine, light-grey felt hat, and 
 his pantaloons were of the same color. 
 
 All were silent for a moment after Johannes' acknowledg- 
 ment. Then Mijnheer van Lieverlee pulled out a handsome 
 pocket-book, bearing an ornamental monogram in small 
 diamonds, made in it several entries, and said to the lady: 
 
 "We can say to a certainty that this is not an accident. 
 Evidently, his 'karma' is favorable. That he should have 
 come directly here to us who know his history, and compre- 
 hend his soul, is the work of the highest order of intelligences 
 — those who are attending him. We must heed the sug- 
 gestion." 
 
 "It surely is an important circumstance, and one to be 
 considered," said the lady, irresolutely. "Where do you 
 live ?" 
 
 "Over there by the railway — in the lodging-house," re- 
 plied Marjon. 
 
 Mevrouw looked rather coldly, and said: "Well, hoys, you 
 may go home now. Here are three marks for each of you. 
 
 258
 
 THEQUEST 259 
 
 And, Johannes, will you not write out that Httle song for 
 me ? There really was a charming melancholy in it. 'Twas 
 sympathetic." 
 
 "Yes, Mevrouw, I will do so. And then may I come and 
 bring it to you myself?" 
 
 "Certainly, certainly!" said the lady; but, at the same time, 
 she closely scrutinized his clothing, through her lorgnette. 
 
 When they had turned away, and were out of sight, Marjon 
 ran straight back again to the rear of the hotel, and began 
 making personal inquiries, and kept busy as long as she could 
 find any one who knew anything about the household of the 
 stately lady, and the two lovely little girls. 
 
 "Do you mean the Countess?" asked a conceited head- 
 waiter, with scornful emphasis. "Do you perchance belong 
 to the family ?" 
 
 "Well, why not?" retorted Marjon, with great self-assur- 
 ance. "All the same, there have been countesses who eloped 
 with head-waiters." 
 
 The cook and the chambermaids laughed. 
 
 "Clear out, you rascal!" said the waiter. 
 
 "What country is she from ?" asked Marjon, undeterred. 
 
 "She? She has no native country. The Count was a 
 Pole, and the Countess came from America. At present she 
 is living in Holland." 
 
 "Widow — or divorced ?" asked one of the chambermaids. 
 
 "Divorced, of course! That's much more interesting." 
 
 "And that young Hollander? Is he related to her?" 
 
 "What! He's a fellow-traveler. They met there." 
 
 "Shall we not start out again, Jo ?" asked Marjon, as they 
 sat together eating their supper of brown bread and cheese, in 
 the same cramped, smoky room where the humble Hercules 
 and his little daughter were also sitting — dressed, at present, 
 in shabby civiHan clothes, and each provided with a glass of 
 beer. 
 
 "I am going to take my song," said Johannes.
 
 26o THEQUEST 
 
 "Manage it some way, Jo; I'll have nothing to do with 
 those people." 
 
 Johannes ate his supper in silence. But, secretly, his 
 feeling toward Marjon grew cooler, and she dropped in his 
 estimation. She was jealous, or insensitive to what was 
 beautiful or noble in people. She had also lived so long 
 among dirty and rude folk! Oh, those two dear little girls! 
 They were nobler and more refined beings. Softly — fer- 
 vently — Johannes repeated their names: "Olga! Frieda!" 
 
 Then, as true as you live, there came a gold-bebraided 
 small boy from the big hotel, bearing a note so perfumed that 
 the close little room was filled with its sweetness; and the beer 
 drinkers sniffed it with astonishment. 
 
 It was from Mijnheer, requesting Johannes to come to him, 
 but without the monkey. 
 
 "Go by yourself," said Marjon. "Kees mustn't go along 
 because he has an odor of another sort. You may say that 
 I prefer that of Kees." 
 
 Mijnheer van Lieverlee was drinking strong black coffee 
 from small metal cups, and smoking a Turkish pipe with an 
 amber mouthpiece. At each pull of the pipe the water gurgled. 
 He wore black silk hose and polished shoes, and he invited 
 Johannes to a seat beside him on the broad divan. 
 
 After a pause he addressed Johannes as follows: "There — 
 that's it, Johannes! Sit quite still, and while we talk try to 
 maintain yourself in the uppermost soul-sphere." Then, 
 after a period of pipe-gurgling, Mijnheer van Lieverlee asked: 
 "Are you there ?" 
 
 Johannes was not quite sure about it, but he nodded assent, 
 being very curious concerning what was to follow. 
 
 "I can ask you that, Johannes, because we understand 
 each other instantly. You and I, you know — you and I! 
 We knew each other before we were in the body. It is not 
 necessary for us to make each other's acquaintance after the 
 manner of ordinary, commonplace people. We can instantly
 
 THEQUEST 261 
 
 do as you and Windekind did. We are not learning to know, 
 but we recognize each other." 
 
 Johannes hstened attentively to this interesting and ex- 
 traordinary statement. He looked at the speaker respectfully, 
 and tried indeed to recall him, but without success. 
 
 "You will already have wondered that I should know about 
 your adventures. But that is not so very marvelous, for there 
 is some one else to whom you appear to have told them. Do 
 you know whom I mean?" 
 
 Johannes knew well whom he meant. 
 
 "Really, you ought not to have done it, Johannes. When 
 I heard of it I said at once that it was a great pity. The 
 world is too coarse and superficial in such matters. People 
 do not comprehend them. You must not permit that which 
 is rare and delicate to be desecrated and contaminated by the 
 foul touch of the indifferent public — the stupid multitude. 
 Do you understand?" 
 
 Johannes nodded, the pipe gurgled, and Mijnheer van 
 Lieverlee took a sip of coffee. Then, in a lighter tone, and 
 gesticulating airily with his slender, white hands, he resumed: 
 
 "The veil of Maja, Johannes, obscures the vision of all 
 who are created — of all who breathe and have aspirations — 
 of all who enjoy and suffer. We must extricate ourselves 
 from it. Will you have some coffee, too ?" 
 
 "If you please, Mijnheer," said Johannes. 
 
 "A cigarette ? Or do you not smoke yet ?" 
 
 "No, Mijnheer." 
 
 "It is true, Windekind did not like tobacco smoke. But I 
 do not smoke as common people do, for the fun of it or be- 
 cause it is pleasant. No! I permit myself to do so through 
 my lowest qualities — the eighth and ninth articulations of 
 Karma-Rupa. My higher attributes — the fourth and fifth 
 — remain apart; just as a gentleman from the balcony of his 
 country-seat views his cattle grazing. The cows do nothing 
 but eat ravenously, digest, and eliminate. The gentleman 
 makes of them a poem or a picture."
 
 262 THEOUEST 
 
 A pause, accompanied by the gurgling of the pipe. 
 
 "Well, as I have said, we should not cast before swine the 
 pearls of our higher sensations and states of mind. We, 
 Johannes — you and I, who have already passed through 
 many incarnations — we are aged souls — we have already 
 worn the veil so long that it is beginning to wear out. We can 
 see through it. Now, we must not have too much to do with 
 those young novices who are just setting out. We should 
 decline, retrograde, and lose the benefit of our costly conquests." 
 
 That all seemed quite just to Johannes, and very flattering 
 moreover. And it was also now made clear to him why he 
 got on so poorly with people. He was of age, among minors. 
 
 "We, Johannes," resumed Van Lieverlee, "belong, so to 
 speak, to the veterans of life. We bear the scars of countless 
 incarnations, the stripes of many years — or, rather, let me 
 say ages — of service. We must maintain our rank, and not 
 throw to the dogs our dignity and prestige. This you will do 
 if you continue to noise abroad all your intimate experiences; 
 and I believe you still have a childish and quite perilous ten- 
 dency that way. 
 
 Johannes thought of his many faults and blunders — of 
 his stupidity in asserting his wisdom at school, and in blurting 
 out Windekind's name before the men. Ashamed, he sat 
 staring into his empty coffee cup. 
 
 "In short, it evidently was intended that you should find 
 me, this time — me and Countess Dolores. For you must 
 know that you have found two souls of the supremest refine- 
 ment. Exactly what you need." 
 
 "Yes, how charming she is, and how lovely the children 
 are!" chimed in Johannes, enthusiastically. 
 
 "Not on account of her being a countess," said Van Liever- 
 lee, with a gesture of disdain. "Titles signify nothing with 
 us. My family is perhaps more distinguished than hers. 
 But she is the sister of our souls — a blending of glowing 
 passion and lily-white purity." 
 
 At these fine words of Van Lieverlee, uttered with great care
 
 THEQUEST 263 
 
 and emphasis, Johannes felt himself coloring with embarrass- 
 ment. How did any one dare to say such words as if it were 
 nothing ? 
 
 "Are you a poet ?" he asked bashfully. 
 
 "Certainly, I am. But you are one also, my boy. Did 
 you not know it .'' Well, then, let me tell you, you are a poet. 
 You see, at present you are the ugly duckling that for the first 
 time meets a swan. Do you understand ? Do not be afraid, 
 Johannes. Do not be afraid, brother swan! Lift up your 
 yellow beak — I shall not oppress you, but embrace you." 
 
 Johannes did lift up his yellow beak, but, instead of em- 
 bracing him. Van Lieverlee took out the diamond-bedecked 
 pocket-book, and began writing in it, hurriedly. Then, as he 
 put away book and pencil, he smilingly said: "One must hold 
 fast to good ideas. They are precious." 
 
 "Well, then," he resumed, drawing at his pipe again, while 
 again it gurgled loudly, "you really could not have managed 
 better, in the pursuit of your great aim, than to have come to 
 us. We know the explanation of all those singular adventures 
 with Pluizer and Windekind, and we can show you the in- 
 fallible way to what you are seeking. That is, we go together." 
 
 Now was not that good news for Johannes ? How stupid 
 of Marjon not to be willing to go too! He listened thought- 
 fully to what followed. 
 
 "Give me your attention, Johannes, and I will tell you who 
 all those beings are that you have encountered. I will also 
 solve the riddle of their power, and tell you what there remains 
 for us to do." 
 
 At that moment the door opened, and Countess Dolores 
 came in with the children. She was dazzling, with magnifi- 
 cent jewels sparkling on her bare neck and arms. The chil- 
 dren were in white. The grand table-d'hote was over, and 
 the countess had now come to drink her Arabic coffee with 
 Van Lieverlee. 
 
 "Ah!" said she, looking at him through her lorgnette, 
 "Have you a visitor? Shall we disturb you? But, really
 
 264 THEQUEST 
 
 you can make such delicious coffee, and I cannot endure the 
 hotel coffee!" 
 
 "Where is the monkey? Where is the monkey?" cried 
 the two children, running up to Johannes. 
 
 Johannes stood up, in confusion. The two winsome chil- 
 dren encircled him. He scented the exquisite perfume of 
 their luxuriant hair and their rich dress. He felt their warm 
 breath, their soft hands. He was charmed, through and 
 through — possessed by delightful emotions. The little girls 
 caressed him while they asked after the monkey, until the 
 gently reproachful "Olga! — Frieda!" sounded again. 
 
 Then they went and sat with Johannes on the sofa, one 
 each side of him. The mother lighted a cigarette. 
 
 "Now proceed with your talking," said she, "so that I can 
 be learning a little." Then in English: "If you listen quietly, 
 girls, and are not troublesome, you may stay here." 
 
 Van Lieverlee had risen, put aside his Turkish pipe, grasped 
 the lapel of his skirtless dinner coat with his left hand, and 
 was gesticulating with the right, in front of Johannes and the 
 countess. 
 
 "I ought to explain to him who Windekind, Wisterik, or — 
 What is his name ? Wistarik ? . . . andPluizer, are, Mevrouw. 
 You know, do you not, those characters in Johannes' life ?" 
 
 "I — I — do not recall them," said the lady, "but that is 
 nothing — speak out. Do not mind me. I do not count. 
 I am only a silly creature." 
 
 "Ah! If people in general were similarly silly! Winde- 
 kind, Wisterik, and Pluizer, then Johannes, are nothing other 
 than "dewas," or elementals, materialized by a supreme 
 effort of the will. They are personified, or rather imper- 
 sonated, natural power — plasmatic appearances from the 
 crystal-clear, elementary oneness. Windekind is harmonic 
 poetry, or, rather, poetic harmony — the original dawning, 
 or, rather, the dawning originality, of our planetary aboriginal 
 consciousness. Wistarik, on the contrary, or Pluizer, is 
 demoniacal antithesis — the eternally skeptical negation, or
 
 THEQUEST 265 
 
 negative skepticism. They are like all ebb and flow, like the 
 swinging pendulum, like winter and summer, eternally strug- 
 gling with each other — continually destroying and forever 
 reviving, the indispensable, mutually excluding, and yet again 
 mutually complementing, first principles of dualistic monism, 
 or of monistic dualism." 
 
 "How interesting!" murmured the countess; and turning 
 to Johannes, she asked very seriously: "And have you really 
 met with these elementals?" 
 
 "I — I believe I have," stammered Johannes. 
 
 "But, Van Lieverlee, then he truly is a medium! Do you 
 not think so ?" 
 
 "Of the second grade, Mevrouw, undoubtedly. Perhaps, 
 with study and proper culture, he will attain the first 
 rank." 
 
 "But would it not be well for us to introduce him to the 
 Pleiades ?" 
 
 And turning toward Johannes, she said affably: "We have 
 a circle, you know, for the study of the higher sciences, and 
 for the general improvement of our 'Karma.'" 
 
 "An ideal society, with a social ideal," supplemented Van 
 Lieverlee. 
 
 That sounded very alluring to Johannes. Would Frieda 
 and Olga belong to it also ? he wondered. 
 
 He said, however, as politely and modestly as possible: 
 "But, Mevrouw, would I really be in place there?" 
 
 His manner pleased the countess. Smiling most sweetly 
 she said: "Surely, my boy! Rank has nothing to do with the 
 higher knowledge." 
 
 Then to Van Lieverlee, in English, with that charac- 
 teristic, cool loftiness of the English, who suppose the hearer 
 does not understand their language: "Really, he is not so bad 
 ■ — not so very common!" 
 
 But Johannes had learned English at school; yet, because 
 he was still such a mere boy, with so little self-conscious- 
 ness, he felt flattered rather than oflPended. He said — using
 
 266 THEQUEST 
 
 English now, himself: "I am not good yet, but I will try my 
 best to become so." 
 
 This word fell again upon good ground, with mother and 
 daughters. There came to Johannes that exhilarating sen- 
 sation of making conquests; he. Little Johannes — a brief 
 while ago the scissors-grinder boy — at present a singer of 
 street songs — he, in a world of supremely refined spirits, 
 with a beautiful countess, all decked with glittering jewels, 
 and her two enchanting little daughters! And that, not on 
 account of birth or patronage, but through his own personal 
 powers. If he could only see Wistik again, now — how he 
 would boast of it! 
 
 But, suddenly, to his honor be it said, something else 
 occurred to him: 
 
 "My comrade, Mevrouw! May we both go?" 
 
 "Who is your comrade ? How did you meet him ?" 
 
 Whoever had heard Johannes then would not have said 
 that, only so short a time ago, he had thought slightingly of 
 his little friend. He stood up for her warmly, described her 
 natural goodness and her unusual talents, — yes even drew 
 on his imagination for her probable noble origin, until it 
 ended in his having touched the heart of Countess Dolores. 
 But, in his enthusiasm, he said, by turns, "he" and "she," so 
 that one of the little girls, being observing, as children usually 
 are, abruptly asked: "Why do you say 'she'? Is it a 
 girl?" 
 
 Then Johannes confessed. It could do no harm here, he 
 thought — among such high-minded people. Blushing more 
 deeply than ever, he said: "Yes, it is really a girl. She is 
 disguised, so as not to fall into anybody's hands." 
 
 Van Lieverlee looked at Johannes very sternly and critically, 
 without making any comment. The little girls, with a serious 
 air, said : " How lovely I" Mevrouw laughed, rather nervously : 
 
 " Oh, oh ! That is romantic. Almost piquant. Then let 
 her come, but in the clothing that belongs to her, if you 
 please."
 
 THEQUEST 267 
 
 "And the monkey, Mama ? Will the monkey come, too ?" 
 asked Olga, the elder. 
 
 "Oh, lovely, lovely!" cried Frieda, clapping her hands. 
 
 "No, children; it is not to be thought of. Of course, you 
 understand, Johannes, that the monkey cannot come with 
 you. He would have a very bad influence. Would he not. 
 Van Lieverlee ? " 
 
 Van Lieverlee nodded his head emphatically, and, with an 
 expressive gesture of refusal, said: "It would simply nullify 
 all the higher influences. We must exclude carefully all low 
 and impure fluids. The monkey, Johannes, has in general a 
 very low and unfavorable aura, or inimical sphere, as you 
 may always perceive from his fatal odor." 
 
 "It would make me ill," said the countess, putting her 
 handkerchief to her face at the very thought of it. 
 
 So Johannes walked home that evening, proud and happy, 
 with his head full of brilliant fancies; but at the same time 
 burdened with a charge — a message to Marjon — which 
 grew more and more heavy as the distance between him and the 
 grand hotel increased, and the distance between him and the 
 small lodging-house lessened.
 
 XVII 
 
 You will be sure to think matters went hard that night, in the 
 rank little room, and that there was a scene between Marjon 
 and Johannes, involving many tears. If so, this time you 
 have made a mistake. 
 
 Even before he reached the house, the task had become too 
 difficult for him. When he saw Marjon, with her stolid face, 
 sitting as she probably had been sitting the entire evening — 
 listless and lonely, his own joyful excitement vanished, and 
 with it went the inclination to be outspoken and communi- 
 cative. He well knew in advance that he should meet with 
 no response nor interest. And what chance would there be 
 of inducing Marjon to give up Keesje for the Pleiades, so long 
 as he could not convey to her even the slightest spark of that 
 ardent admiration for the beautiful and worthy of which he 
 himself had become conscious. 
 
 Therefore, he said nothing, and, as Marjon asked no ques- 
 tions, they went calmly and peacefully to sleep. Johannes, 
 however, first lay awake a long time, musing over the splendid 
 worldly conquest he had made, and the distressing difficulties 
 into which it had led him. Marjon would not go with him, 
 that was certain; and ought he to desert her again f Or must 
 he renounce all that beauty — the most beautiful of all things 
 he had found in the world I 
 
 You must not suppose, however, that he had such great 
 expectations from what Van Lieverlee had pictured to him. 
 Although looking up with intelligent respect to one so much 
 older than himself, so elegant and superior in appearance, 
 and who professed to be so traveled, well read, and eloquent, 
 Johannes in this instance was clever enough to see that not all 
 was gold that glittered. 
 
 But the two dear little girls and their beautiful mother 
 drew him with an irresistible force. If there was anything 
 
 268
 
 THEQUEST 269 
 
 good and fine in this world, it was here„ Should he turn away 
 so long as he could cling to it ? Had the supremely good 
 Father ever permitted him to see more beautiful creatures ? 
 and should he esteem any faith more holy than faith in the 
 Father of whom Markus had taught him, and who only made 
 himself known through the beauty of his creation ? 
 
 The following day he found himself no nearer a solution of 
 his difficulties. Marjon still asked no questions, and gave 
 him no opportunity to tell anything. 
 
 Keesje sipped his sweetened coffee out of Marjon's saucer 
 with much noisy enjoyment, carefully wiping out what re- 
 mained with his flat hand, and licking it off, while he kept 
 sending swift glances after more, as calmly and peacefully as 
 if the Pleiades and the higher knowledge had no existence. 
 
 How, then, could Johannes now accompany her to their 
 daily work ? He did not feel himself in a condition to do so; 
 and, since they had received six marks extra, the day before, 
 he said he was going out to take a walk, alone, in order to 
 think. "Perhaps I may come home with a new poem," said 
 he. But he had slight hope of doing so. He would be so 
 glad if he could find a way out of his difficulties. He went to 
 seek help in the mountains. Was there not there an unde- 
 filed bit of nature, the same as on the dunes of his native land 
 — beside the sea ? 
 
 Marjon's pale face wore a really sorrowful look, because he 
 wanted to go without her. Her obstinacy gave way, and she 
 would have liked to question him, but she held herself loftily 
 and said: "Have your fling, but don't get lost." 
 
 Johannes went up the mountain path where he had first 
 seen the two little girls. It was a still, beautiful September 
 day — a little misty. Here and there, beneath the underwood, 
 the ferns had become all brown; and the blackberries, wet 
 with dew, were glistening along his way amid their red-bor- 
 dered leaves. How many spider-webs there were amidst the
 
 270 THE GUEST 
 
 foliage! There was a solemn stillness over all; but, as Jo- 
 hannes climbed farther up the mountain dell, he heard the 
 constant rushing of water, and in the small mountain meadows 
 • — the open places in the woods — he saw many little rivulets 
 glistening in the grass, gurgling and murmuring as they flowed. 
 
 Still farther, where the woods were denser and the moun- 
 tains more lonely, he heard now and then the sound of a 
 fleeing deer; and he saw too a fine roe, with fear-filled eyes 
 and large ears directed toward himself from the forest's 
 edge. 
 
 At last he came to a narrow path bordering a small brook. 
 To right and left were dark rocks glistening with moisture 
 and beautifully overgrown with fantastic lichens; and there 
 were little rosette-like clumps of ferns, and exquisite, graceful 
 maiden-hair, gently quivering in the spray of the waterfall. 
 Higher up began the overhanging underwood, and thorny 
 bramble-bushes, while only now and then were there glimpses 
 of the steep mountain sides, with the knotty roots of dense 
 . firs and beeches. 
 
 There seemed no end to that path. It wound all through 
 the bottom of the ravine, following the brook — sometimes 
 crossing it by a couple of stepping-stones, and thence again 
 continuing to the other bank. And it grew stiller in the 
 mountains. The blue sky above could seldom be seen, and 
 the sunlight sifted only dimly through the leaves of the moun- 
 tain ash and the hazel tree. Tall digitalis, with its rows of 
 red and yellow bells, looked down upon Johannes out of the 
 shadowy depths of the thicket with venomous regard, as 
 if threatening him. 
 
 Where was he .'' An agitation, half anxious, half delightful, 
 took possession of him. It was like Windekind's wonderland 
 here! 
 
 He went on and on, wondering how much farther he could 
 go without there being a change. He grew very tired, and 
 then quite distressed. 
 
 Out of the general stillness a vague, indefinable sound now
 
 THEQUEST 271 
 
 proceeded. At first it seemed to be the throbbing and rush- 
 ing of his blood, and the heart-beats in his ears; but it was 
 stronger and more distinct — a roaring, with an undertone of 
 melancholy moaning like continuous thunder or ocean surf, 
 constant and regular, and, also, a higher note sounding by fits 
 and starts, like the ringing of bells borne by a high wind. 
 
 And listen! A sound loud as the report of a cannon, making 
 the ground tremble! 
 
 Johannes ran about in his agitation, looking on all sides. 
 But there was no wind — every leaflet, every blade of grass, 
 was still as death. The sound of water, alone — the rush of 
 water — grew louder! 
 
 Then he saw, in front of him, the small cascade which 
 caused the sound. The brook was flowing over the face of 
 a rock, down amid the ferns. The path seemed to come to 
 an end, and lose itself in the darkness. 
 
 Behind the waterfall, hidden by the foaming flow as by a 
 veil, was a grotto, and the path entered it. 
 
 And now Johannes heard the sounds clearly — as if 
 they were coming out of the earth: the deep resounding, 
 the short intermittent thunderclaps, and the ringing of bells 
 
 — incessant and regular. 
 
 He sat down beside the path much agitated, and panting 
 from his rapid movement, and gazed through the veil of water 
 into the cool, dark grotto. He sat there a long time, listening, 
 hesitating, not knowing whether to venture farther or to turn 
 back. 
 
 And slowly — slowly — a great mysterious sadness began 
 to steal over him. He saw, too, that the mists were still rising 
 from the valley, and that a mass of dark grey clouds was 
 silently taking the place of the glad sunlight. 
 
 Then he heard near him a slight sound — a soft, sad sighing 
 
 — a slight, gentle wailing — a helpless sobbing. 
 
 And, sitting on the rock next to him he saw his little friend 
 Wistik. He was looking straight at Wistik's little bald head, 
 with its thin grey hair. The poor fellow had taken off his little
 
 272 THEQUEST 
 
 red cap, and was holding it, with both hands, up to his face. 
 He was sobbing and snivehng into it as if his heart would 
 break, and the tears were trickling down his long, pointed 
 beard to the ground. 
 
 "Wistik!" cried Johannes, filled with pity and distress. 
 "What is it, little friend — my good mannikin ? What is the 
 matter ?" 
 
 But Wistik shook his head. He was crying so hard he 
 could not speak. 
 
 At last he controlled himself, took his cap wet with tears 
 away from his face, and put it on his head. Then, sobbing 
 and hiccoughing, he slid from his seat, and stepped upon the 
 stone in the brook. With both hands he grasped the sparkling 
 veil of falling water, tore a broad rent in it, turned round his 
 whimpering little face, and silently beckonea Johannes to 
 follow him. 
 
 The latter went through the dark fissure while Wistik held 
 the water aside, and reached the interior quite dry. Not a 
 drop fell upon his head. Then they went farther into the 
 cavern, Wistik taking the lead, for he was used to the darkness 
 and knew the way. Johannes followed, holding him by 
 the coat. 
 
 It was totally dark, and continued so a long time while they 
 walked on, perceptibly downward, over the smooth, hard way. 
 
 The sombre sounds grew louder and louder about them. 
 The echoing, the peals of thunder, the ringing of bells — all 
 these overwhelmed now the babbling of the water. 
 
 In the distance the light was shining — a grey twilight, pale 
 as the misty morning. The day shone in, making the wet 
 stones glimmer with a feeble sheen. A tumultuous noise now 
 penetrated the rocky passage, and the screaming and bellow- 
 ing of the wind-storm greeted the ear. 
 
 Soon they were standing outside, in sombre daylight. There 
 was nothing to be seen save a desolate heap of mighty rocks, 
 grizzly and water-stained. No plant — not a blade of grass 
 — was growing in its midst.
 
 THEQUEST 273 
 
 Just before them an angry sea was roaring and raving, 
 casting great breakers upon the strand. Once in a while Jo- 
 hannes saw the white foam tossing high. Great, quivering 
 flakes were torn away by the storm, and driven from rock to 
 rock. 
 
 Iron-grey clouds, in ragged patches, were chasing along 
 the heavens, transforming themselves as they sped. They 
 scudded close to the boiling sea, and the white foam torn from 
 the mighty breakers seemed almost to touch them. The 
 earth trembled as the waves broke on the rocks, and the wind 
 howled and shrieked and whistled amid the uproar, like the 
 baying of a dog at the moon, or the yell of a man in des- 
 peration. 
 
 Wherever the dark clouds were torn apart an alarmingly 
 livid night sky was exposed. 
 
 Oppressed by the high wind, blinded by the spray, Johannes 
 sought shelter with Wistik in the lee of a rock, and looked 
 away, over the open country. 
 
 It appeared to be evening. Over the sea, but at the ex- 
 treme left, where Johannes had never seen it, the sunlight 
 was visible. For one instant the face of the sun itself could 
 be seen — sad, and red as blood — not far from the horizon. 
 Beneath it, like pillars of glowing brass, the rays of light 
 streamed down to rest upon the sea. 
 
 And now and then, on the other side, high up in the ashen 
 sky, appeared the pale face of the moon — deathly pale, 
 hopelessly sad, motionless and resigned — in the midst of the 
 furious troop of clouds. 
 
 Johannes looked at his friend in indescribable anguish. 
 
 "Wistik, what is this.'' Where are we? What is happen- 
 ing ? — Wistik!" 
 
 But Wistik shook his head, lifted up his swollen eyes toward 
 the sky, and, in mute anguish, clenched his fists. 
 
 Above the roar of wind and sea could still be heard the 
 deep-toned sound, like the report of cannon or the booming 
 of bells. Johannes looked around. Behind him rose the
 
 274 THEQUEST 
 
 mountains — black and menacing — their proud, heaven- 
 hi<Th heads confronting the rushing swirl of clouds that were 
 piled up, miles high, into a rounded black mass. At times it 
 litrhtened vividly and then followed a frightful peal of thunder. 
 And when one of the highest peaks was freed from its mantle 
 of mists, Johannes saw that it was afire with a steady, orange- 
 colored glow which grew ever fiercer and whiter. 
 
 The tolling of bells came from every direction, as if 
 thousands on thousands of cathedral bells were ringing in 
 unison. 
 
 Then Wistik and Johannes took their way inland, clam- 
 bering over the jagged rocks, clinging to each other in the 
 wild wind. The sea thundered still louder, and the wind 
 whistled as if in utter frenzy — like an imprisoned maniac 
 tugging at his bars. 
 
 "It is no use," wailed Wistik. "It is no use. He is dead, 
 dead, dead!" 
 
 Then Johannes heard the winds speaking as he had for- 
 merly heard the flowers and animals talk. 
 
 " He shall live ! " shrieked the Wind; " I will not let him 
 die!" 
 
 And the Sea spoke : *' Them that menace him shall I de- 
 stroy — his enemies devour. The hills shall I grind to powder, 
 and all animals o'erwhelm." 
 
 Then spoke the Mountain : " It is too late. The time is 
 fulfilled. He is dead." 
 
 Now Johannes knew what it was the bells were sound- 
 ing. They cried through all the earth, and the darkened 
 heavens : 
 
 " Pan is dead ! Pan is dead ! " 
 
 And the pale Moon spoke softly and plaintively : 
 
 "Alas! poor earth ! Where now is thy beauty? Now shall 
 
 we weep — weep — weep !" 
 
 Finally, the Sun also spoke : " The Eternal changes not. 
 
 A new day has come. Be resigned."
 
 THEQUEST 275 
 
 And all at once it grew still — perfectly still. The wind went 
 suddenly down. The air was so motionless that the irides- 
 cent foam-bubbles floated hither and thither as if uncertain 
 where to alight. 
 
 A silence, full of dread, oppressed the whole dreary land. 
 
 The waste of waters only, could not so suddenly subside, 
 and still pounded in heavy rollers upon the shore. 
 
 But it also grew still and calm — so calm that the sun and 
 the moon were reflected in it, as perfectly as in a mirror. 
 
 The thunder was silenced about the volcano, and every- 
 thing was waiting. But the bells pealed on, loud and clear: 
 
 " Pan is dead ! Pan is dead I " 
 
 And now the clouds formed a dark, fleecy layer above the 
 mountains — soft and black, like mourning crepe. From it 
 there fell perpendicularly a fine rain, as if the heavens 
 were shedding silent tears. 
 
 The air was clearer above the sea, and moon and evening 
 star stood bright against a pale, greenish sky. Glowing in a 
 cloudless space, the red sun was nearing the horizon. When 
 Johannes turned away and looked toward the mountains, 
 now veiled in leaden mists, a marvelous double rainbow, with 
 its brilliant colors, was spanning the ashen land. 
 
 Out of a deep valley that cleft the mountains like the gash 
 of a sword, and upon whose sides Johannes thought to have 
 seen dark forests, approached a long, slow-moving procession. 
 
 Strange, shadowy figures like large night-moths hovered 
 and floated before it, and flew silently like phantoms beside 
 it. 
 
 Then came gigantic animals with heavy, cautious tread — 
 elephants with swaying trunks and shufiiing hide, their 
 bony heads rolling up and down; rhinoceri, with heads held 
 low, and glittering, ill-natured eyes; snuffling, snorting hippo- 
 potami, with their watery, cruel glances; indolent, sullen 
 monsters with flabby-fleshed bodies supported by slim little 
 legs; serpents, large and small, gliding and zig-zagging over 
 the ground like an oncoming flood; herds of deer and ante-
 
 276 THEQUEST 
 
 lopes and gazelles — all of them distressed and frightened, 
 and jostling one another; troops of buffaloes and cattle, push- 
 ing and thrusting; lions and tigers, now creeping stealthily, 
 then bounding lightly up over the turbulent throng, as fishes, 
 chased from below, spring out of the undulating water; and 
 round about the procession, thousands of birds — some of 
 them with slow, heavy wing-strokes — alighting at times upon 
 the rocks by the wayside; others, incessantly on the wing, 
 circling and swaying, back and forth and up and down; finally, 
 myriads of insects — bees and beetles, flies and moths — like 
 great clouds, grey and white and varicolored, all in ceaseless 
 motion. 
 
 And every creature in the throng which could make a 
 sound made lamentation after its own fashion. The loudest 
 was the worried, smothered lowing of the cattle, the howling 
 and barking of the wolves and hyenas, and the shrill, quivering 
 "oolooloo" of the owls. 
 
 The whole was one volume of voiced sorrow — an over- 
 whelming cry of woe and lamentation, rising above a con- 
 tinual, sombre humming and buzzing. 
 
 "This is only the vanguard," said Wistik, whose despair 
 had calmed a little at the sight of this lively spectacle. "These 
 are only the animals yet. Now the animal-spirits are coming." 
 
 Then, in a great open space respectfully avoided by all the 
 animals, came a group of wonderful figures. All had the 
 shapes of animals, only they were larger and more perfectly 
 formed. They seemed also to be much more proud and 
 sagacious, and they moved not by means of feet and wings, 
 but floated like shadows, while their eyes and heads seemed 
 to emit rays of light, like the sea on a dark night. 
 
 "Come up nearer," said Wistik. "They know us." 
 
 And it really seemed to Johannes as if the ghosts of the 
 animals greeted them, sadly and solemnly; but only those of 
 the animals known to him in his native land. And what most 
 impressed him was that the largest and most beautiful were 
 not those esteemed most highly by human beings.
 
 THE QUEST 277 
 
 " Oh, look ! Wistik, are those the butterfly-spirits ? How 
 big and handsome they are ! " 
 
 They were splendid creatures — large as a house — with 
 radiant eyes, and their bodies and wings were clearly marked 
 in brilliant colors. But the wings of all of them were drooping 
 as though with weariness, and they looked at Johannes seriously, 
 silently. 
 
 " Are there plant-spirits, too, Wistik ? " 
 
 *' Oh, yes, Johannes, but they are very large and vague and 
 elusive. Look! There they come — floating along." 
 
 And Wistik pointed out to him the hurrying, hazy figures 
 that Johannes had first seen in front of the procession. 
 
 "Now he is coming! Now he is coming! Oh! Oh! 
 Oh ! " wailed Wistik, taking off his cap and beginning to 
 cry again. 
 
 Surrounded by throngs of weeping nymphs who were singing 
 a soft and sorrowful dirge — their arms intertwined about one 
 anothers' shoulders — their faded wreaths and long hair drip- 
 ping with the rain — came the great bier of rude boughs 
 whereon lay Father Pan, hidden beneath ivy and poppies and 
 violets. He was borne by young, brawny-muscled fauns, 
 whose ruddy faces, bowed at their task, were distorted with 
 suppressed sobs. In the rear was a throng of grave centaurs, 
 shuffling mutely along, their heads upon their chests, now and 
 then striking their trunks and flanks with their rough fists, 
 making them sound like drums. 
 
 Curled up, as if he intended to stay there, a little squirrel 
 was lying on the hairy breast of Pan. A robin redbreast sat 
 beside his ear, mournfully and patiently coaxing, coaxing 
 incessantly, in the vague hope that he might still hear. But 
 the broad, good-natured face with its kindly smile never 
 stirred. 
 
 When Johannes saw that, and recognized his good Father 
 Pan, he burst into tears which he made no effort to restrain. 
 
 "Now the monsters are coming," whispered Wistik. "The 
 monsters of the primal world."
 
 278 THEOUEST 
 
 Ugh! That was a spectacle to turn one into ice! Dragons, 
 and horrid shapes bigger than ten elephants, with frightful 
 horns and teeth, and armor of spikes; long, powerful necks, 
 having upon them small heads with large, dull eyes and sharp 
 teeth; and pale, grey-green and black, sometimes dark-red 
 or emerald-green, spots on the deeply wrinkled, knotty or 
 shiny skin. All these now went past with awkward jump or 
 trailing body; most of the time mute, but sometimes making a 
 gruff, quickly uttered, far-sounding howl. And then odd 
 creatures like reddish bats, having hooked beaks and curved 
 claws, flashed through the air with their black and yellow 
 wings, chattering and clumsily floundering in their flight. 
 
 At last, when the entire multitude had come to the broad, 
 rocky strand, thousands upon thousands of little and big 
 rings were circling over the mirror-like surface of the water, 
 as far as eye could see; swift dolphins sprang in and out of the 
 water, in graceful curves; pointed, dorsal fins of sharks and 
 brown-fish cut the smooth surface swiftly, in straight lines, 
 leaving behind them widely diverging furrows. The mighty 
 heads of shining black whales pushed the water from in front 
 of them, spouting out white streams of vapor with a sound 
 like that of escaping steam. 
 
 The sun neared the horizon, the rain ceased falling, and 
 the mists melted away, disclosing other stars. Above the crater 
 of the mountain stretched a dark plume of smoke, and beneath 
 it the fire now glowed calmly, at white heat. 
 
 Then all that din of turbulent life grew fainter and fainter, 
 until nothing was audible save a faint sighing and wailing. 
 At last — utter silence. 
 
 The bier of Pan was resting upon the seashore, encircled 
 by all the living. 
 
 The red rays of the sun lighted up the great corpse, the 
 tree-trunks upon which it rested, and the dark heaps of withered 
 leaves and flowers. But also they shot up the mountain 
 heights, sparkling and flaming in glory there — over the rigid, 
 basaltic rocks.
 
 THE yU EST 279 
 
 Wistik stared at the red-reflecting mountain-top, with great, 
 wide-open eyes, and a pale, startled little face, and then cried 
 in a smothered voice: 
 
 "Kneel, Johannes, Kneel! She comes! Our holy Mother 
 comes!" 
 
 Trembling with awe, Johannes waited expectantly. 
 
 He could not begin to comprehend that which he saw. 
 Was it a cloud .? a blue-white cloud .'' But why was it not red, 
 in the glow of that sunset.^ Was it a glacier? But look! 
 The blue-and-white came falling down like an avalanche of 
 snow. Steel-blue lightning flashed in sharp lines upon the 
 red mountain-side. 
 
 Then it seemed to him that the descending vapor was di- 
 vided. The larger part, and darker — that at the left — was 
 blue, and blue-green; that at the right, a brilliant white. 
 
 He saw distinctly now. Two figures were there, in shining, 
 luminous garments; and the light of them was not dimmed by 
 the splendor of that setting sun. Rays of green shone from 
 the garment of the larger, but around the head was an aureole 
 of heavenly blue. The other was clothed in lustrous white. 
 
 They were so great — so awful! And they swept from the 
 mountain in an instant of time, as a dove drops from out a 
 tree-top down upon the field! 
 
 When they stood beside the bier, Johannes looked into the 
 face of the larger figure, and he felt that it was as near and 
 dear to him as a mother. It was indeed his mother — Mother 
 Earth. 
 
 She looked upon the dead, and blessed him. She looked 
 at all the living ones, and mused upon them. Then she 
 looked into the face of the sun ere it disappeared, and smiled. 
 
 Turning toward the volcano, she beckoned. The side of 
 the crater burst open with a report like thunder, and a seething 
 stream of lava shot down like lightning. 
 
 After that everything was night, and gloom, and darkness 
 to Johannes. He saw the bier on fire — consumed to a pile 
 of burning coals — and the thick, black smoke enveloped him.
 
 28o THEOUEST 
 
 But also he saw, last of all, the shining white figure moving 
 beside Mother Earth, irradiating the night and the smoke. 
 He saw Him coming; ^ — bendino- down to him His radiant face 
 until it embraced the entire heavens. 
 
 Then he recognized his Guide.
 
 PART III
 
 I 
 
 The warm tears for Father Pan were still flowing down his 
 cheeks, when Johannes Hfted up his eyes with the conscious- 
 ness of being awake. That which met his gaze was exactly 
 what he had last seen — the comforting face of his exalted 
 Brother enveloped by a dun swirl of smoke. But now it looked 
 different, or else it was perceived through another sense — 
 like the same story told in another tongue — like the same 
 music played upon an instrument of different timbre: neither 
 finer nor more effective, but simpler and more sober. 
 
 He found himself sitting on the slope of a mountain, and 
 saw Markus bending over him. The sun had set, and the 
 valley lay in twilight, yet in the dusk one could see the glow 
 of fiery furnaces — could see tall factory-chimneys out of 
 whose huge throats there rolled great billows of murky smoke, 
 like dirty wool. The whole valley and everything that grew 
 on the mountain-side was smirched with black. A constant 
 humming and buzzing, pounding and resounding, rose up 
 from that city of bare, blackened buildings. At intervals 
 there flared up from the furnace bluish yellow and violet 
 flam.es, like glowing, streaming pennants. The land looked 
 gloomy and desolate, as if laid waste by lava; yet now 
 and then, as a rotary oven belched out a flood of brilliant 
 sparks, the grey air was lighted up for miles beyond. 
 
 "Markus," said Johannes, his heart still heavy with sorrow, 
 "Pan is dead!" 
 
 "Pan is dead!" said Markus in return. "But your Brother 
 ives. 
 
 "Thank God for that. What brought you here?" 
 
 "I am among the miners, Johannes, and the factory oper- 
 atives. They need me." 
 
 "Oh, my Brother! I too need you. I do not know where 
 in the world to go . . . and Pan is dead!" 
 
 283
 
 284 THEQUEST 
 
 Johannes embraced the right arm of Markus, and rested 
 his head against his Brother's shoulder. Thus sitting, he was 
 a long time silent. 
 
 He gazed at the clouded valley with its colossal mine-wheel, 
 the black chimneys and ovens, the black, yellow, and blue- 
 white wreaths of vapor, the great iron sheds, and the many- 
 windowed buildings devoid of ornament and color. 
 
 All about him he could see the sides of the mountains severed 
 as by great, gaping wounds; the trees prostrate; all nature, 
 with its beautiful verdure, burned to cinders; and the rocks 
 cleft and crushed. Upon the top of the mountain, at the very 
 edge of the chasm — an excavation resembling the hole made 
 by fruit-devouring wasps — several pine-trees were still stand- 
 ing. But these last children of the forest were also soon to 
 fall. And in the distance the echo of explosions reverberated 
 through the mountains, followed by the loud sounds of falling 
 stones, as the rocks were shattered with dynamite. 
 
 "Pan is dead!" His beautiful wonderland was being de- 
 stroyed; and in the new life which was to be founded upon the 
 ruins of the old one, Johannes knew not where to go. He 
 was frightened and bewildered. 
 
 But had he not found his Brother again, and for the second 
 time beheld him in a glorified form, clothed in shining raiment .? 
 And was he not, even now, in his warm, comforting presence ? 
 
 The thought of this composed and strengthened Johannes. 
 
 "My Brother," he asked, "who killed Pan?" 
 
 "No one. His time had come." 
 
 " But why, then, was he so sad when I asked him about you ? " 
 
 "The flower must perish if the fruit is to ripen. A child 
 cries when night comes and it is time to sleep, because he 
 wants to play longer and does not know that rest is better for 
 him. All people who continue to be like children cry about 
 death, which is only a birth and full of joyful anticipations." 
 
 "Have Pan and Windekind known you. Brother?" 
 
 "No, but they have feared me, as the lesser fears the 
 greater."
 
 THEQUEST 285 
 
 "Will your kingdom, then, be more beautiful than theirs?" 
 
 "As much more beautiful as the sun is brighter than the 
 moon. But the weak, the frail and timid ones who live in the 
 night-time, will not perceive this, and will fear the glorious 
 sun. 
 
 For a long time Johannes thought this over. In the far, 
 smoky valley with its mines and factories, a clock struck — 
 farther away another — in the distance still another. There- 
 upon followed the shrill screaming of steam-whistles, and the 
 loud clanging of bells, and people could be seen pouring out 
 of the workshops. 
 
 "How gloomy!" exclaimed Johannes. 
 
 Markus smiled. "The black seed also, in the dark ground, 
 is gloomy, yet it grows to be a glad sunflower." 
 
 "Brother," said Johannes, imploringly, "advise me what to 
 do now. The beautiful is of the Father, is it not.^" 
 
 "Yes, Johannes." 
 
 "Then must I not follow after that which is the most beau- 
 tiful of all I have found in this human world ? Do tell me!" 
 
 " I only tell you to follow the Father's voice where it seems 
 to call you most clearly." 
 
 "And what if I am in doubt V 
 
 "Then you must question, fervently, and, still as a flower, 
 listen with all your heart." 
 
 "But if I must act .?" 
 
 "Then do not for an instant hesitate, but venture in the 
 name of the Father, trusting in your own and His love, which 
 is one and the same." 
 
 "Then suppose I make a mistake?" 
 
 "You might do that; but if the error is for His sake. He will 
 open your understanding. Only when you fear for your own 
 sake, and forget Him, can you be lost." 
 
 "Show me then. Brother, what your way is!" 
 
 "Very well, Johannes. Come with me." 
 
 Together they descended to the valley. The ground was
 
 286 THEOUEST 
 
 everywhere black — black with coal and slag and ashes, and 
 the puddles of water were like ink. 
 
 From all sides came the sound of heavy footfalls. It seemed 
 as if the black town would empty itself of all its people. 
 Hundreds of men ran hither and thither, all of them with 
 heavy, weary, yet hurried steps. Apparently, they were all 
 running over one another — each one in the others' way — 
 but yet there was no disorder, for each seemed to know where 
 he wished to go. 
 
 Most of them looked black — completely begrimed with 
 coal and smoke. Their hats and blouses were shiny with 
 blackish water. Usually they were silent; but now and then 
 they called to one another roughly and to the point, as men 
 do who have spent all their strength, and have none left for 
 talking or jesting. 
 
 Several were already leaving the wash-houses, cleansed and 
 in their customary sober garments. Their freshly washed 
 faces looked conspicuously pale in the twilight, amid those of 
 their unwashed comrades ; but their eyes bore dark rims that 
 could not be cleaned. 
 
 Johannes and Markus went past the mines, the coal pits, 
 and the smelting works, until they came to long rows of little 
 houses where the families of the laborers lived. Thitherward 
 also the people were now streaming. Behind the small win- 
 dows where wives were waiting with supper, little lights began 
 to twinkle everywhere. 
 
 Markus and Johannes entered a large, dreary hall having 
 a low wooden ceiling. In the front part of it two lighted gas- 
 jets were flickering. The rest of the place was in semi-dark- 
 ness. There were a good many benches, but no one had yet 
 arrived. The walls were bare and besmirched, and upon 
 them were several mottoes and placards. 
 
 For a half-hour the two sat there without speaking. A 
 dismal impression of the gloom and ugliness of this abode 
 took possession of Johannes. It was worse than the tedium 
 of the schoolhouse. It seemed more frightful to have to live
 
 THEQUEST 287 
 
 here than in the wildest and most desolate spot in Pan's do- 
 minion. There it was always beautiful and grandiose, though 
 often also terrible. Here all was cramped, uninteresting, bare, 
 and ugly — the horrors of a nightmare, the most frightful 
 Johannes had ever known. 
 
 This lasted an hour, and then the great hall gradually filled 
 with laborers. They came sauntering in, somewhat em- 
 barrassed, pipes in their mouths, hat or cap on head. At 
 first they remained in the dark background; then, seating 
 themselves here and there upon the benches, they glanced to 
 right and left and backward, occasionally expectorating upon 
 the floor. Their faces looked dull and tired, and the hands 
 of most of them — rough and broad, with black-rimmed 
 nails — hung down open. They talked in an undertone, at 
 times laughing a little. Women also came in with children in 
 their arms. Some were still fresh and young, with a bit of 
 color about their apparel; some, delicate little mothers in a 
 decline, with deformed bodies, sharp noses, pale cheeks, and 
 hollow eyes. Others were coarse vixens, with hard, selfish 
 looks and ways. 
 
 The hall filled, and the rows of faces peered through the 
 tobacco smoke, watching and waiting for what was to take 
 place. 
 
 A laborer — a large, robust red-bearded man — came forward 
 under the gaslight, and began to speak. He stammered at 
 first, and pushed his right arm through the air as if he were 
 pumping out the words. But gradually he grew more fluent ; 
 and the hundreds of faces in the hall followed his attitudes 
 and gestures with breathless interest, until one could see his 
 anger and his laughter reflected as if in a mirror. And when 
 he broke off a sentence with a sharp, explosive inquiry, then 
 the feet began to shuffle and stamp with a noise which some- 
 times swelled to thunder, in the midst of which could be heard 
 cries of "Yes! Yes!" while laughing faces, and looks full of 
 meaning, were turned hither and thither as if searching for, 
 and evincing, approval.
 
 288 THEQUEST 
 
 Johannes did not very well understand what was said. He 
 had, indeed, learned German; but that did not avail him much 
 here, on account of the volubility of the speaker and his use 
 of popular idioms. His attention, too, was given as much to 
 the listeners as to the speaker. 
 
 Nevertheless, the great cause which was being agitated 
 grew more and more clear to him. 
 
 The speaker's enthusiasm was communicated to his 
 audience, becoming intensified a hundred-fold, until a great 
 wave of emotion swept over all present, Johannes in- 
 cluded. ' 
 
 He saw faces grow paler, and observed signs of heightened 
 interest. Eyes began to glisten more and more brightly, and 
 lips were moving involuntarily. Now and then a child began 
 to whimper. But it disturbed no one. On the contrary, the 
 orator appeared to utilize the occurrence for his own purposes. 
 Two tears rolling down the ruddy moustache riveted Johan- 
 nes' attention, and he heard a quiver in the rough voice as the 
 speaker pointed with both hands toward the wailing infant, 
 in such a way as to remove from the incident all that was comic 
 or annoying. 
 
 It was apparent to Johannes that these people suffered an 
 injustice; that they were about to resist; and that this resistance 
 was perilous — yes, very perilous — to the point of involving 
 their lives and their subsistence, and also that of their wives 
 and children. 
 
 He could see the evidences of long-suffered injustice, in 
 their passionate looks and eager gestures. He saw breathless 
 fear at the thought of the danger which menaced them and 
 their dear ones if they should offer resistance. He saw the 
 proud glitter in their eyes, and the high-spirited lifting of their 
 heads as the inner struggle was decided, and heroism tri- 
 umphed over fear. They would fight — they knew it now. 
 The great rising wave of courage and ardor left no irresolute 
 one unmoved. Johannes looked the faces over very carefully, 
 but there was not one upon which he could still read the
 
 THEQUEST 289 
 
 traces of anxiety and hesitation. One kindled soul illumi- 
 nated them all, like a mighty fire. 
 
 Then Johannes' soul grew ardent, and he too waxed strong 
 at heart; for there began to touch him the first rays of the 
 beauty which lay slumbering beneath that sombre veil of 
 ugliness. 
 
 After this speaker there were others, who rose in their places 
 without coming forward. Not one of them hazarded the 
 quenching of the sacred fire. They all spoke of the coming 
 struggle as of an inevitable event. But Johannes, with a 
 sensation that made him clench his fists as if the enemy's 
 hand were already at his throat, now saw a heavy, burly fellow 
 stop, stammering, in the middle of his speech, and begin to 
 sob; not from fear — no! — but from keen anger, on account 
 of suffered scorn and humiliation, and because of the insup- 
 portable suspicion that he had been disloyal to his comrades. 
 Johannes guessed the details of that story, even although he 
 did not understand the words. The man had been deceived; 
 and, in a time of deep misery, when his wife was ill, he had 
 been seduced, by promises, from joining his comrades in this 
 struggle. 
 
 Johannes was glad to see actions, fine in themselves, 
 proceed from a burst of pure emotion, when the whole 
 earnest assemblage, in one unanimous spirit of generosity, 
 forgave the seeming traitor, and reinstated him in their 
 regard. 
 
 And as the workmen were about to take their leave, with 
 the stern yet cheerful earnestness of those who are committed 
 to a righteous struggle, Johannes saw, with great pleasure, 
 that Markus was going to speak. They knew him, and 
 instantly there was absolute silence. There was something 
 in the pleased readiness with which these German miners 
 took their places again to listen — a childlike trust, and 
 a good-natured seriousness — that Johannes had never seen 
 among the Fair-people; no, nor anj^where in his own 
 country.
 
 290 THEOUEST 
 
 As Markus spoke German with the careful slowness and 
 the purity of one who did not belong to the land, Johannes 
 understood it all. 
 
 "My friends," said Markus, "you have been taught in your 
 schools and churches of a Spirit of Truth, which was to 
 come as the Comforter of mankind. 
 
 "Well, then, this which has now taken possession of you, 
 and which has strengthened all your hearts and brightened 
 all your eyes — even this is the Comforter, the Spirit of Truth, 
 the Holy Ghost. 
 
 "For Truth and Righteousness are one, and proceed from 
 One. From your cheerful and courageous eyes I see that you 
 know surely, with a full conscience, that it is the truth which 
 has stirred you, and that you are to risk your lives in the cause 
 of justice. 
 
 "And that this spirit is a Comforter you will find by ex- 
 perience; that is, if you are loyal. 
 
 "But this I now say to you, because you do not know as I 
 know, that truth is like a mountain-path between two abysses, 
 and that it is more difficult to maintain than the tone of a 
 violin. 
 
 "You have suffered injustice; but you have also committed 
 injustice. For the act of oppression is injustice, and it is also 
 injustice to permit oppression. 
 
 "You have been taught otherwise, and have been told it is 
 written that injustice will be permitted. But even if this were 
 written, the Spirit of Truth would cause it to be erased. I say 
 to you that whoever practices injustice is an evildoer, and 
 whoever permits injustice is his accomplice. 
 
 "There is a pride which in God's eyes is an honor to a 
 man, and there is also an arrogance which will cause him to 
 stumble and to be crushed. 
 
 "The Spirit of Truth says this: 'Acquaint yourselves with 
 your own value, and endure no slight which is hostile to the 
 truth.' But he who overestimates himself will have a fall, 
 and God will not lift him up."
 
 THEQUEST 291 
 
 After these powerful and penetrating words, which sounded 
 like a threatening admonition, Markus sat down, resting his 
 head upon his hand. After waiting awhile in silence, the 
 whispering crowd dispersed with shuffling footsteps, without 
 having made a sign of approval or acquiescence. 
 
 "May I stay with you, Markus?" asked Johannes, softly, 
 afraid of disturbing his guide. Markus looked up kindly. 
 
 "How about your little comrade .?" he asked. "Would she 
 not grow uneasy ? Come with me. I will show you the way 
 back again." 
 
 Together they found the way in the night through the woods 
 to the little resort and the lodging-house. But excepting an 
 exchange of "Good-nights" not another word was spoken. 
 In his great awe of him, Johannes dared not ask Markus how 
 he knew all about his adventures.
 
 II 
 
 The next morning, in the dirty little breakfast-room of the 
 lodging-house, there mingled with the usual smell of fresh 
 coffee and stale tobacco smoke the fragrance of wood-violets 
 and of musk; for a pale lavender note, written with blue ink, 
 was awaiting Johannes. 
 
 He opened it, and read the following: 
 
 "Dearly beloved Soul-Brother: 
 
 Come to me to-day as soon as you can, upon the wings of 
 our poet-friendship. Countess Dolores w^ent yesterday, with 
 her little daughters, and her servants; but she left something 
 for you which will make you happy, and which I myself will 
 place in your hand. 
 
 The following is the first delicate and downy fruit of our 
 union of souls: 
 
 HYMEN MYSTICUM 
 
 To Little Johannes 
 
 In solemn state swim our two souls, 
 Like night-black, mystic swans, 
 O'er passion-seas profoundly deep — 
 Of briny, melancholy tears. 
 
 Oh! Thou supremely bitter ocean! 
 
 All wingless, bear we with us, thro' the sky's dark 
 
 courses, 
 Thy ceaseless, lily-sorrow — 
 And the fell weio;ht of this sad world's woe. 
 
 Entwine with mine thy slender throat, my brother, 
 
 That, swooning, we may farther swim. 
 
 And with our song the dazzled race amaze. 
 
 292
 
 THEOUEST 293 
 
 Let us, in sensuous tenderness, 
 
 Like faded lilies intertwine, 
 
 With a death-sob of supremest ecstasy. 
 
 Would not your friend be able to compose music for this ? 
 And I hope soon to know her better. 
 
 Your soul's kinsman, 
 
 Walter v. L. T. D. 
 Kurhotel^ 8th Sept. (Van Lieverlee tot Endegeest). 
 
 Just here, I wish I could say that Johannes immediately let 
 Marjon read both the letter and the verses, and that, with her, 
 he made merry over them. But that, alas ! the truth will not 
 permit. And now, for the sake of my small hero, I confess 
 I should be heartily ashamed if I thought that none of you, 
 in reading the above, would be as ingenuous as he was, 
 in regarding the poem with the utmost seriousness — even 
 hesitating, like himself, to doubt its quality, concluding that it 
 must indeed be fine though a little too high for understanding, 
 and, for that very reason, not at first sight so very striking and 
 intelligible. 
 
 Are you certain that none of you would have been so stupid 
 as to be deceived by it ? Quite certain ? Well, then, please do 
 not forget how youthful Johannes still was; and consider, 
 also, the wonderful progress of the age, due, no doubt, to 
 the zealous and untiring efforts of our numerous literary 
 critics. 
 
 Johannes did not mention the letter; but when he saw 
 Marjon, he said: 
 
 "I saw somebody, yesterday. Can you think who it was ?" 
 
 Marjon's pale, dull face lighted up suddenly, and she 
 stared at Johannes with fixed, bright eyes. 
 
 "Markus!" said she. Johannes nodded assent, and she 
 continued: 
 
 "Thank God! I felt it. I heard that the laborers about 
 here were soon to go on a strike, and then I supposed — 
 well — Now everything will be all right again!"
 
 294 
 
 THE GUEST 
 
 Then she was silent, eating her bread contentedly. A 
 little later, she asked: 
 
 "Where are you going? Is it far? What have you agreed 
 to do?" 
 
 "I have settled nothing," said Johannes. "But I will go 
 to him with you before long. It is not far." Then, affect- 
 ing to make light of it, he said: "I have had an invitation to 
 the hotel." 
 
 "Gracious!" said Marjon, under her breath. "The 
 deuce is to pay again." 
 
 In the park Johannes met Mijnheer van Lieverlee. He stood 
 on the grass in front of a thicket of withered shrubs, gazing 
 at the mountains; and was clad in cream-white flannel, with 
 a bright-purple silk handkerchief in his breast pocket. One 
 hand rested upon his ebony walking-stick; with the other — 
 thumb and forefinger pressed together, and little finger ex- 
 tended — he was making rhythmical movements in the air. 
 
 When he saw Johannes, he greeted him with a nod and a 
 wink, as if there were a secret understanding between them. 
 
 "Superb! Is it not ? Superb!" 
 
 Johannes did not exactly know what he meant — the verses 
 he had received, the mountains opposite, or the fine, Septem- 
 ber morning. He selected the most obvious, and said: 
 
 "Yes, sir! Glorious weather!" 
 
 Van Lieverlee gave him a keen look, as if uncertain 
 whether or not he was being made sport of, and then 
 leisurely remarked: 
 
 "You do not appear to be impressed by the combination 
 of white, mauve, and golden brown." 
 
 Johannes thought himself very sensitive to the effect of 
 color; so he felt ashamed of not having noticed the color-com- 
 position. He saw it now, fully — the white flannel, the purple 
 pocket-handkerchief, and the faded, yellow-brown shrub. 
 That Van Lieverlee should thus include himself in this sym- 
 phony of color seemed to him in the highest degree pertinent.
 
 THE QUEST 
 
 295 
 
 "I was engaged in making a 'pant(3em' in harmony with 
 that color-scheme," said Van Lieverlee; and then, seeing the 
 blank look on Johannes' face, he added, "Do you know what 
 a 'pantoem' is ?" 
 
 "I do not, sir." 
 
 "Oh, boy! boy! and you call yourself a poet! What did 
 you receive this morning ? Do you know what that is ? " 
 
 "A sonnet," said Johannes, eagerly. 
 
 "Is that so ? Did you think it a fine one .?" 
 
 That was a disquieting question. Johannes was quite at 
 a loss about it; but it seemed that poets were wont to ask such 
 questions, so he overcame what he considered his childish- 
 ness, and said: 
 
 "I think it is splendid!" 
 
 "You think so! Well, I know it. There is no need to 
 make a secret of it. I call what is good, good, whether it 
 was I who made it, or somebody else." 
 
 That seemed both just and true to Johannes. Now that 
 he was again with Van Lieverlee, and heard him talk in such 
 a grand style, with that easy, fluent enunciation, and those 
 elegant gestures, he found him, on the whole, not bad, but, 
 on the contrary, attractive and admirable. He knew that 
 Marjon would think othenvise; but his confidence in her 
 judgment declined as his confidence in Van Lieverlee aug- 
 mented. 
 
 " Now, Johannes, I have something for you which ought 
 to make you very happy," said Van Lieverlee, at the same 
 time taking from a pretty, red portfolio, that smelled delight- 
 fully like Russia leather, a note embellished with a crown and 
 sealed with blue wax. " This was written by Countess 
 Dolores with her own hand, and I know what it contains. 
 Treat it with respect." 
 
 Before handing it over to him. Van Lieverlee, with a sweep- 
 ing flourish, pressed it to his own lips. Johannes felt him- 
 self to be a dolt; for he knew it would be an impossibility for 
 him to imitate that.
 
 296 THE Q_UEST 
 
 The note contained a very brief, though cordial, invitation 
 to stay at her home sometime, when she should be with her 
 children, at her country-seat in England. There was, too, 
 with'n the note, a pretty bit of paper. Johannes had never 
 seen its like. It meant money. 
 
 "How kind of her!" he exclaimed rapturously. He felt 
 greatly honored. Immediately, however, his thoughts turned 
 toward Markus — toward Marjon and Keesje. How about 
 them? Something must be done about it; to decline was 
 impossible. 
 
 "Well?" said Van Lieverlee. "You do not appear to be 
 half pleased about it. Or do not you believe it yet ? It really 
 is not a joke!" 
 
 "Oh, no!" said Johannes. "I know it is not . . . 
 but. . . ." 
 
 "Your friend may go with you, you know^; or does she 
 not care to ?" 
 
 "I have not asked her yet," said Johannes, "for, you see, 
 we have . . . we have finally found him." 
 
 "What do you mean? What are you talking about? 
 Speak out plainly, boy. You need never keep secrets from 
 me. 
 
 "It is no secret, sir," said Johannes, greatly embarrassed. 
 
 "Then why are you stuttering so? And why do you say 
 'sir' ? Did I not write you my name ? Or do you reject my 
 offer of brotherhood ?" 
 
 "I will accept it, gladly, but I have still another brother 
 that I think a great deal of. It is he whom we are seeking 
 • — my comrade and I. And now we have found him." 
 
 "A real, ordinary brother?" 
 
 "Oh, no!" said Johannes. And then, after a moment of 
 hesitation, softly, but with emphasis, "It is . . . Markus 
 , . . Do you know whom I mean ?" 
 
 "Markus? Who is Markus?" asked Van Lieverlee, with 
 some impatience, as if completely m}'stified. 
 
 "I do not know who he is," replied Johannes, in a baffled
 
 THEQUEST 297 
 
 manner. "I hoped that you might know because you are so 
 clever, and have seen so much." 
 
 Then he related what had happened to him after he had 
 fallen in with the dark figure, on the way to the city where 
 mankind was — with its sorrows. 
 
 Van Lieverlee listened, staring into space at first, with a 
 rather incredulous and impatient countenance, now and then 
 giving Johannes a scrutinizing look. At last he smiled. 
 
 Then, slowly and decisively, he said, "It is very clear 
 who he is." 
 
 "Who is he.^" asked Johannes in breathless expectancy. 
 
 "Well, a Mahatma, of course — a member of the sacred 
 brotherhood from Thibet. We will surely introduce him, 
 also, to the Pleiades. He will feel quite at home there." 
 
 That sounded very pleasing and reassuring. Was the great 
 enigma about to be solved now, and every trouble smoothed 
 away ? 
 
 " But," said Johannes, hesitating, "Markus feels really 
 at home only when he is among poor and neglected people 
 — Kermis-folk, and working men. He looks like a laborer, 
 too — almost like a tramp — he is so very poor. I never 
 look at him without wanting to cry. He is very different 
 from you — utterly unlike!" 
 
 "That is nothing. That does not signify," said Van 
 Lieverlee, with an impatient toss of his head. "He dis- 
 sembles." 
 
 "Then you, also, think ..." said Johannes, hesitating, 
 and resuming with an effort, "You think, Walter, that the 
 poor are downtrodden, and that there is injustice in wealth ?" 
 
 Van Lieverlee threw back his head, and made a sweeping 
 gesture with his right arm. 
 
 "My dear boy, there is no need for you to enlighten me 
 upon that subject. I was a socialist before you began to 
 think. It is very natural for any kind-hearted man to begin 
 with such childish fancies. The poor are imposed upon, and 
 the rich are at fault. Every newsboy, nowadays, knows
 
 298 THEQUEST 
 
 that. But when one {rrows somewhat older, and sets to be- 
 hold things from an esoteric standpoint, the matter is not so 
 simple." 
 
 " There you are," thought Johannes. " As Markus told It, 
 it was much too simple to be true." 
 
 "Do not forget," resumed Van Lieverlee, "that we all 
 come into the world with an individual Karma. Nothing can 
 alter it. Each one must bring with him his past, and either 
 expiate or else enjoy it. We all receive an appointed task 
 W'hich we are obliged to perform. The poor and downtrod- 
 den must attribute their sad fate to the inevitable outcome of 
 former deeds; and the trials they endure are the best medium 
 for their purification and absolution. There are others, on 
 the contrary, who behold their course in life more clear 
 and smooth because their hardest struggles lie behind them. 
 I really sympathize deeply with the unhappy proletarian; but 
 I do not on that account venture to lower myself to his pitiful 
 condition. The Powers hold him there, and me here — each 
 at his post. He still needs material misery to make him 
 wiser. I need it no longer, because I have learned enough in 
 former incarnations. My task, instead, is the elevation, 
 refinement, and preservation of the beautiful. Therefore I 
 am assigned to a more privileged position. I am a watch- 
 man in the high domain of Art. This must be kept pure 
 and undefiled in the great, miry medley of coarse, rude, and 
 apathetic people who compose the greater part of man- 
 kind. This cultivation of the beautiful is my sacred duty. 
 To it I must devote myself in all possible ways, and for all 
 time. The beautiful! The beautiful! in its highest refine- 
 ment — sleeping or waking — in voice, in movement, in food, 
 and in clothing! That is my existence, and to it I must sub- 
 ordinate everything else." 
 
 This oration Van Lieverlee delivered with great emphasis 
 while slowly moving forward over the short, smooth grass, 
 accompanying the cadences of the well-chosen sentences with 
 wide time-beats of the ebony walking-stick.
 
 THEQUEST 299 
 
 Johannes was convinced — to such a degree that he per- 
 ceived in it naught else than the complement and completion 
 of that which Markus, up to the present, had taught him. 
 
 Yes, he might go to his children now. He was sure of it. 
 Markus would approve. 
 
 "I wish that Marjon might hear you — just once," said he. 
 
 "Marjon ? Is that your comrade .? Then why does he not 
 come? Bless me! It was a girl, though, truly! What are 
 you to each other ?" 
 
 Van Lieverlee stopped, and, stroking his small, flaxen beard 
 gave Johannes another keen look. 
 
 "Do you not really think, Johannes," he proceeded, with 
 significant glances, and in a judicial tone, "do you not think 
 . . . h'm ... to put it mildly, that you are rather free 
 and easy ?" 
 
 "What do you mean?" asked Johannes, looking straight 
 at him, unsuspiciously. 
 
 "You are a sly little customer, and you know remarkably 
 well how to conduct yourself; but there is not a bit of need 
 for your troubling yourself about me. I am not one of the 
 narrow-minded, every-day sort of people. Such things are 
 nothing to me — no more than a dry leaf. I only wish you to 
 bear in mind the difficulties. We must not expose our esoteric 
 position. There are too many who understand nothing about 
 it, and would get us into all kinds of difficulties. Countess 
 Dolores, for example, is still very backward in that respect." 
 
 Johannes understood next to nothing of this harangue, but 
 he was afraid of being taken for a fool if he let it be evident. 
 So he ventured the remark: 
 
 "I will do my best." 
 
 Van Lieverlee burst out laughing, and Johannes laughed 
 with him, pleased that he appeared to have said something 
 smart. Thereupon he took his leave, and went to look up 
 Marjon, that they might go to the city of the miners.
 
 Ill 
 
 The walls of the little house were much thicker than those of 
 the houses of Dutch laborers. The small sashes, curtained 
 with white muslin, lay deep in the window-openings, and upon 
 each broad sill stood a flowering plant and a begonia. 
 
 When Johannes and Marjon looked in through the window, 
 Markus was sitting at the table. The housewife stood beside 
 him, sleeves tucked up, carrying on her left arm a half-sleep- 
 ing child, while with her right hand she was putting food upon 
 his plate. A somewhat older child stood by his knee watch- 
 ing the steaming food. 
 
 The mother's cheeks were pale and sunken, from sorrow, 
 and her eyes were still full of tears. 
 
 "Nothing will come of it, after all," she said with a sigh. 
 "If only he had been wiser! Those miserable roysterers have 
 talked him into it. That's what comes of those meetings. 
 If only he had stayed at home! The husband belongs at 
 home." 
 
 "Do not be afraid, mother," said Markus. "He did what 
 he sincerely thought was right. Who does that can always 
 be at peace." 
 
 "Although he should starve ?" asked the wife, bitterly. 
 
 "Yes, although he should starve. It is better to starve 
 with a good conscience, than to live in comfort by fraud." 
 
 This silenced the woman for a time. Then she said, "If 
 it were not for the children ..." and the tears flowed 
 faster. 
 
 "It is exactly on account of the children, mother. If the 
 children are good, they will thank the father who is struggling 
 for their sakes, even though he struggle in vain. And there 
 is something for them still, else you would not have been able 
 to give to me — the stranger." 
 
 Markus looked at her smilingly, and she smiled in return. 
 
 •500
 
 THEQUEST 301 
 
 "You — you should have our last mouthful!" said she, 
 heartily. Then, glancing toward the window, she added: 
 "Who are those young scamps looking in? And a monkey 
 with them!" 
 
 Then Markus turned around. As soon as the two standing 
 outside recognized his face, they shouted "Hurrah!" and 
 rushed in without knocking. 
 
 Marjon flew to Markus, threw her arms about his neck, and 
 kissed him. Johannes, rather more shy, clung to his hand. 
 Keesje, being distrustful of the children, peered around the 
 place with careful scrutiny. 
 
 Then there followed in Dutch a brisk, confused interchange 
 of information. All the adventures had to be narrated, and 
 Marjon was very happy and communicative. The mother 
 kept still, looking on with a discontented air, full of her own 
 troubles. The noise awakened the half-slumbering child, 
 and it began to cry. 
 
 Then the husband came home, morose and irritable. 
 
 "What confounded business is this?" he cried; and the 
 two were silent, slowly comprehending that they were in a 
 dwelling full of care. Johannes looked earnestly at the weary, 
 care-seamed face of the man, and the pale, anxious features 
 of the mother, wondering if there was any news. 
 
 "Hollanders?" asked the miner, seating himself at the 
 table, and holding up a plate. 
 
 "Yes, friends of Markus," replied the wife. Then, in as- 
 sumed calmness, she asked: "Is there any news?" 
 
 "We have the best of it!" said the husband, with forced 
 cheerfulness. "We win — we surely win. It can't be other- 
 wise. What have you to say about it, Markus?" 
 
 But Markus was silent, and gazing out-of-doors. Swearing 
 because the food was not to his taste, the man then began to 
 eat. Marjon's merriment subsided. The wife shook her 
 head sadly, and kissed her child. 
 
 "You need to look out, you young rascals," said the 
 man, all at once. "They are searching for you. Have
 
 302 THEOUEST 
 
 you been pilfering ? Which of you js the girl in dis- 
 guise ?" 
 
 "/ am!" said Marjon. "What do they want of me ? Now 
 what if I have no other duds ?" 
 
 "Are you a girl?" asked the wife. "Shame on you!" 
 
 "Has not Vrouw Huber a spare garment for her?" asked 
 Markus. "She has so many daughters!" 
 
 "We may need to pawn them all," replied the wife. But 
 Johannes, with a manly bearing, cried: "We can pay for 
 them. I have some money!" 
 
 "O-o-oh!" said the others doubtfully, while Markus simply 
 smiled. Thus Marjon was soon back again in her girl's ap- 
 parel — an ugly red-checked little frock. Keesje alone was 
 satisfied with the change. 
 
 "Have you been singing much?" asked Markus. 
 
 "Yes, we sing every day," said Marjon, "and Johan- 
 nes has made some nice new songs." 
 
 "That is good," said Markus. Then, turning to husband 
 and wife: "May they sing here a little?" 
 
 "Sing! A pretty time for singing!" said the wnfe, scornfully. 
 
 "Why not?" asked the husband. "A nice song is never 
 out of place." 
 
 "You are right," said Markus. "It is not well to hear 
 nothing but sighs." 
 
 Marjon softly tuned her guitar; and while the husband sat 
 beside the brick stove, smoking his pipe, and the wife laid her 
 little one in bed, the two children began to sing a song — the 
 last of those they had made together. It was a melancholy 
 little song, as were all those they had sung during the last 
 weeks. These were the words: 
 
 "If I should say what makes me sad, 
 My effort would be all in vain; 
 But nightingales and roses glad 
 They whisper it in sweet refrain.
 
 THEQUEST 303 
 
 "The evening zephyr softly sighs 
 
 In strains one clearly understands; 
 I see it traced high o'er the skies 
 In writing made by mystic hands. 
 
 "I know a land where every grief 
 Is changed into a mellow song; 
 Where roses heal with blushing lips 
 All wounds and every aching wrong. 
 
 "That land, though not so far away, 
 I may not, cannot enter there; 
 It is not here where now I stay 
 
 And no one saves me from despair." 
 
 "Is that Dutch, now?" asked the miner. "I can't un- 
 derstand a bit of it ? Can you, wife ?" 
 
 Weeping, the wife shook her head. 
 
 "Then what are you snivelling for, if you don't under- 
 stand?" 
 
 "I don't understand it at all; but it makes me cry, and that 
 does me good," said the wife. 
 
 "All right, then! If it does you good we'll have it once 
 more." And the children sang it over again. 
 
 When they went away, they left the family in a more peace- 
 ful mood. 
 
 Markus took his place in the middle, between the two chil- 
 dren, Keesje sitting upon his shoulder, with one little hand 
 resting confidingly on his cap, attentively studying the thick, 
 dark hair at his temples. 
 
 "Markus!" said Johannes. "I do not understand it-. 
 Really, what has my grief to do with theirs ? And yet, it did 
 seem as if they were crying over my verses. But my little 
 griefs are of so little account, while they are anxious about 
 things so much more important."
 
 304 
 
 THE QUEST 
 
 "I understand, perfectly," said Marjon. "Awhile ago, 
 they might beat me as hard as they pleased, and I wouldn't 
 utter a sound. But once, when they had given me a hard 
 whipping, I saw a forlorn little kitten that looked quite as un- 
 happy as I was, and then I began to cry with all my might, 
 and it made me feel better." 
 
 "Then you think, children, that all sorrow suffered is one 
 single sorrow ? But so is all happiness one happiness. The 
 Father suffers with everything, and whoever comforts a poor 
 little kitten, comforts the Father." 
 
 These sayings made things more plain to Johannes, and 
 gave him much to ponder over. He forgot everything else, 
 until they were again in their lodgings — two little rooms in 
 an old, unoccupied mill. Here they were given some bed- 
 clothes, by a girl from a near-by lodging-house. Marjon now 
 slept apart, while Johannes and Markus stayed together, in 
 one room. 
 
 The next morning, while they were drinking coffee in the 
 dark little bar-room of the lodging-house, Johannes felt he 
 must speak of what lay on his heart. He brought out the 
 fragrant, violet-colored note, also the one adorned with the 
 crown and the blue sealing-wax; but in his diffidence even his 
 hope of an understanding with Markus drooped again. 
 
 "I smell it already!" cried Marjon. "That's the hair- 
 dresser scent of that fop, with his tufted top-piece." 
 
 That angered Johannes. "Don't you wish you could make 
 such poems as that 'fop' can?" 
 
 And, nettled by this disrespect of his new friend, he sprang 
 to his feet, and began excitedly repeating the verses. He had 
 his trouble for his pains. Markus listened with unmoved 
 countenance, and Marjon, somewhat taken aback, looked at 
 Markus. But the latter said not a word. 
 
 "I'll tell you what," she exclaimed at last, "I don't believe 
 a bit of it! Not a darn bit." 
 
 "Then I'll tell you," retorted Johannes, sharply, "that
 
 THEQUEST 305 
 
 you are too rude and coarse to understand things that are 
 elevated." 
 
 "Maybe I am," said Marjon in her coolest, most indiffer- 
 ent manner. 
 
 Then Johannes spoke to Markus alone, hoping for an un- 
 derstanding from him. What he said came out passionately, 
 as if it had long been repressed, and his voice trembled with 
 ready tears. 
 
 "I have thought for a long, long time, Markus, that there 
 was no use in trying. I cannot bear anything rude and rough, 
 and everything I have yet seen in people is rude and rough — 
 neither good nor beautiful. It cannot be that the Father 
 meant it to be so. And now that I have found something 
 fine, and exquisite, and noble, ought I not to follow it .? I had 
 not thought that there were anywhere such beautiful human 
 beings. Markus, they are the most beautiful of all I have 
 ever seen. Their hair is like gold, Markus. Not even the 
 elves have more beautiful hair. And their little feet are so 
 slim, and their throats so slender! I cannot help thinking of 
 them all the time — of the pretty, proud way they raise their 
 heads, of their sensitive lips, of the beautiful, upturned curves 
 at the corners of their mouths, and of the music in their voices 
 when they ask me anything. They danced together to the 
 music, hand in hand, and then their nice smooth stockings 
 peeped out, together, from under their little velvet dresses. It 
 made me dizzy. One of them has blue eyes, and fuller, redder 
 lips. She is the gentler and more innocent. The other has 
 greyer, more mischievous eyes, and a smaller mouth. She is 
 more knowing and roguish. She is the fairer, and she has 
 little fine freckles just under her eyes. And you ought to see 
 them when they run up to their mother, one on each side, 
 when all their hair tumbles down over her, in two shades of 
 gold — brown gold and light gold — that ripples together like 
 a flowing river! And I saw the diamonds in their mother's 
 neck, sparkling through it all! You ought to hear them 
 speak English — so smoothly and purely. But they speak
 
 3o6 THEQUEST 
 
 Dutch, too, and I would much rather hear that. One of 
 them — the innocent one — Hsps a httle. She has the darkest 
 hair, with the most beautiful waves in it. But I could talk 
 more easily with the other one. She is more intelligent. And 
 the mother, also, is so attractive in every way. Everything 
 she says is fine and noble, and every movement is charming. 
 You have a feeling that she stands far, far above you, and 
 yet she acts in everything as if she were the least of all. 
 Isn't that lovely, Markus ? Is it not the way it should be?" 
 
 Markus made no reply, but looked straight at him, very 
 seriously, and with a puzzling expression. It was kind, but 
 wholly incomprehensible to Johannes. 
 
 In his excitement Johannes kept on: "I have just come into 
 a consciousness now of something in the w^orld of people, of 
 which I knew nothing whatever before. My- friend Walter, 
 the one who made that poem, lives in that w'orld. She — " 
 pointing to Marjon — "has no idea of it. That is not her fault. 
 I had no idea of it before. But I am not surly, like her; I 
 do not scoff at it just because I do not belong there yet. It 
 is a world of beauty and refinement — a sublime world of 
 poetry and art. Walter wishes to lead me into it, and I think 
 it silly in her now to jeer about it. Do you not think it silly, 
 Markus?" 
 
 Markus' eyes remained as serious and puzzling as ever, and 
 his mouth uttered not a word. Johannes looked first at one, 
 then at the other, for an answer to his question. 
 
 At last Markus said: "What does Marjon say?" 
 
 Marjon, wiio had been leaning forward as she sat, lifted up 
 her head. She no longer looked indifferent. Her cheeks 
 were glowing, and her eyes, with their dry, red rims, seemed to 
 be afire. She stared with the fixed, glittering look of one in 
 a fever, and said: 
 
 "What do I say? I have nothing to say. He thinks me 
 too rude and rough. Possibly I am. I swear sometimes, 
 and Keesje smells. I can't endure those people, and they 
 don't want anything to do with me — certainly not with Kees.
 
 THE QUEST 307 
 
 As Jo has need of finer companionship now, he must choose 
 for himself." 
 
 "No, Marjon, you do not understand me; or do you not wish 
 to understand?" said Johannes, sadly. "It is not because 
 I have need of it, but because it is good. It is good to 
 enter a finer Hfe — into a more elevated world. Is it not so, 
 Markus .'' You understand me, do you not?" 
 
 "I understand," said Markus. 
 
 "Tell her, then, that she must come too — that it would be 
 better so." 
 
 "I don't think it would be better," said Marjon, "and I'm 
 certainly not going with you." 
 
 "Tell us, then, Markus, while we have you with us — tell 
 us what we ought to do. We will do as you say." 
 
 "I don't know yet whether I will or not," said Marjon. 
 
 Then Markus smiled, and nodding toward Marjon, he said: 
 "Look! She knows already we must not promise obedience 
 to any one. Let him who promises obedience promise it 
 to the Father." 
 
 "But you are so much wiser than we are, Markus." 
 
 "Is it enough that I am wiser, Johannes? Do you not 
 wish to become wiser yourself? Because I can run better, 
 ought you to let me carry you ? How will you ever learn to 
 run, yourself?" 
 
 Marjon stared at him fixedly, w^ith her flashing, flaming 
 eyes, while two red spots burned upon her pale cheeks. She 
 stepped up to Markus and pressed her hand upon his mouth, 
 exclaiming passionately: 
 
 "Do not say it! I know what you are going to say. Don't 
 say it; for then he will do it, and he must not! he 7nust 
 not!" 
 
 Then she hid her face on Markus' arm. Markus laid his 
 hand upon her head and spoke to her tenderly: 
 
 "Are you not willing, then, to grant him what you your- 
 self demand — that he should be doing what he himself, not 
 some one else, thinks right ?"
 
 3o8 THEQUEST 
 
 Marjon looked up. Her eyes were tearless. Johannes 
 listened quietly, and Markus continued: 
 
 "There are frightful events, children, but most of them are 
 not so bad as they seem to be. The fear of them, only, 
 is bad. But the only events that you should dread come 
 through not doing what you yourself think right — yourself, 
 children — yourself alone, with the Father. The Father 
 speaks to us also through men, and through their wise words. 
 But they are indirect vehicles; we have Him within ourselves 
 — directly — just as you, Marjon, are now resting upon my 
 bosom. He wills it to be so, and there we must seek him — 
 more and more. 
 
 "Now there is a great deal of self-deception. Self is a 
 long while blind and deaf, and we often mistake the Devil's 
 voice for the voice of God, and take the Enemy to be the 
 Father. But whoever is too fearful of straying never leaves 
 his place, and fails to find the right way. A swimmer who dares 
 not release his hold upon another — will drown when in peril. 
 Dare then, children, to release your hold upon others — all — 
 all — to follow the Father's voice as it speaks within yourselves. 
 Let all who will, call evil what seems to yourselves good. 
 Do this, and the Father will not be ashamed of you." 
 
 "But understand me well; close your ears to no one, for 
 the truth comes from all sides, and God speaks everywhere. 
 Ask the opinion of others, but ask no one else to judge for 
 you. 
 
 They were all silent for awhile. At last Marjon stood up, 
 slowly, with averted face, and flinging back her short, ash- 
 blonde hair from her forehead, she stepped up to Keesje, who, 
 fastened to a chain, sat shelling nuts. She loosened his chain, 
 and said gently and aff'ectionately: "Coming with me, Kees ? 
 I know very well what is going to happen now." Then she 
 had him leap to her shoulder, and, without once looking 
 round, she went out into the street. 
 
 "Do you also know, Johannes?" asked Markus. 
 "Yes!" said Johannas, resolutely, "I am going!"
 
 IV 
 
 And so Little Johannes took leave again of his Guide and of 
 his friend, and went forth to seek a finer and a nobler sphere 
 of life. 
 
 He did not do this now in a heedless way, as when first he 
 left his father, and, afterward, Windekind; nor partly by com- 
 pulsion, as when he chose Vrede-best rather than the gypsy- 
 wagon. 
 
 He was acting now quite voluntarily, according to his own 
 ideas — not recklessly, but in harmony with his convictions. 
 Ought we not to admit that he was making good progress ? 
 Indeed, he thought so himself. 
 
 How well he recollected his first talk with Markus, during 
 the storm, about remembering and forgetting! What he was 
 now doing, however, did not seem to him disloyal. True, 
 he was turning away from friends, but he was following that 
 which he took to be the mind of his dearest friend, even as 
 Markus had taught him. 
 
 He was resolved to combat the sorrows of humanity. But 
 first of all, he most become a good man himself, and he agreed 
 with Van Lieverlee that it was the proper thing for a good 
 man to be also a clever one, and to live a fine life. 
 
 Hitherto, there had been too little of that which was beauti- 
 ful around him. With regard to his face, he had a vague 
 idea that it was plain. But that he could not very well help. 
 All the more, it behooved him to have a care for his clothes. 
 Every flower and every bird presented a more comely ap- 
 pearance than did he. His cap and jacket were formless, 
 ragged, and rain-spotted. His shoes were worn and out of 
 shape. And while so attired, the thought of becoming the 
 guest of a countess, and of appearing beside Van Lieverlee, 
 was not a little distressing. 
 
 Happily, he now possessed a little money — not much, to 
 
 309
 
 310 THE GUEST 
 
 be sure, for he had his traveling expenses to meet, but yet he 
 could spare a little for a few purchases. And that was a seri- 
 ous question for Johannes, involving much thought — how 
 he could array himself the most fine!)-, at the least cost. 
 
 He first bought a white, starched "dicky," and with it a 
 ready-made tie — black — not venturing, when he thought 
 of Van Lieverlee's gorgeous cravats, to select a colored one. 
 Then for his dicky he selected studs with little green stones in 
 them. They looked like emeralds, but they were onl}' green 
 glass. The studs were not a necessity, for the dicky fastened 
 at the back. But their modest twinkling simply attested his 
 toleration of outward adornment. He bought also a stiff, 
 round hat, a cloak, and a pair of new shoes. That the shoes 
 pinched and pained him was a small matter. He was pleased 
 at the odor of new leather which they spread around, and 
 liked their loud squeaking still better. 
 
 They did not squeak at first, to his distinct disappointment; 
 but after an hour or two — there it was! They began to 
 creak and squeak, as if proclaiming to everybody that from 
 this day forward he became part of the higher life, and one 
 of the finer sort of human beincrs. 
 
 Finally — a pair of kid gloves! But these he dared not 
 put on after he had them. As little did he dare leave them 
 off, for they had cost a good deal, and the money must not be 
 thrown away. So he settled the question by wearing one and 
 carrying the other. He seemed, indeed, to remember that 
 this was the mode. 
 
 And a travelino;-bajr now seemed to him the ideal — the 
 acme — of dignity. But he had nothing to put into it. To 
 buy more for the mere sake of filling it was not to be thought 
 of, and to carry it for the mere sake of appearances ran 
 counter to his ideas of sincerity and honesty. Aunt Serena's 
 old satchel he left behind with Marjon. 
 
 The leave-taking was not hard for him. No, indeed! He 
 was too full of the new life which awaited him. Never had 
 he felt more fully convinced that he was taking the right path 
 — that he was going to do the right thing.
 
 THE QUEST 311 
 
 Markus had said that we must seek for happiness and pros- 
 perity, as well as for goodness. Johannes felt happier than 
 he ever had felt since leaving Windekind. Did not that 
 prove that he was in the right way ? 
 
 And what was the Father's voice of which Markus had 
 spoken, if not this inner joy ? It was not, however, the au- 
 dible, usual voice, sounding in Dutch, or some other tongue. 
 The Bible, indeed, said so; but that was not now the way. 
 Surely, then, it must be this feeling of joy and of glad antici- 
 pation that he now experienced. 
 
 Does it not seem to you that Johannes had advanced ? I 
 do not believe that you would have reasoned better than he 
 did. And if you were not taken in as he was, it would have 
 been more from good luck than from wisdom. 
 
 At first Van Lieverlee had promised to accompany him; but 
 at the last moment, without giving a reason, he wrote to recall 
 his promise, and let Johannes go alone. 
 
 In the corner of a third-class railway coach, among a strange 
 people, he sped through a foreign country. He was at rest 
 and contented, because he was going to the two children. It 
 was as great a pleasure to him as if he had been traveling to 
 the home of his parents. Where those dear, beautiful little 
 beings were, there was his home. He looked at the foreigners 
 with interest. They seemed less coarse and clownish, less 
 ugly and unmannerly, than his own people. They were much 
 more merry and agreeable, also more obliging to one another. 
 Johannes was on the alert for an occasion to do the polite 
 thing. However, as he did not speak the language very flu- 
 ently, he sat in his corner wrapped in his cloak, listening 
 quietly, and in a friendly mood, to the scraps of conversation 
 that came to him. This was carried on in the rattling, jolt- 
 ing car, with loud laughter and vehement gesticulations. 
 
 At night he slept once more on the leather-covered benches 
 of a boat. This time it was not on the smooth Rhine, but on 
 the mighty, swelling ocean. All around him were people 
 to whom he had nothing to say. Only, his neighbor on the
 
 312 THE QUEST 
 
 leather bench rcc] nested him not to kick his head. Then he 
 made himseU as small as possible, and lay farther away, and 
 quite still. 
 
 About midnight he took a peep around the cabin, hardly 
 knowing whether or not he had been asleep. 
 
 The people lay at rest. Most of them appeared to be 
 asleep — some making queer noises. The light was dim, 
 and, in the semi-darkness, the lamps swung mysteriously to 
 and fro, and the plants that stood upon the table were all of 
 them quivering. One could hear, above the soft jingling and 
 creaking everywhere, the quaking and dull throbbing of the 
 engines. Outside, the water was hissing and rushing, and 
 dashing along the sides of the vessel. 
 
 Beside the table sat a lone passenger — a tall, dark figure. 
 He was motionless, his head resting upon his hand. 
 
 Johannes gave him a good look. He seemed to have on an 
 amazingly big, spacious cloak, full of folds; on his head was 
 a broad-brimmed hat. The one hand which Johannes could 
 distinguish looked very thin and white. 
 
 How familiar the man looked, though! Johannes expected 
 immediately to hear the sound of a well-known voice. He 
 thought of Markus, then of his father. . . . 
 
 Suddenly, the emaciated hand was removed, and the face 
 turned slowly round toward Johannes. Only the white 
 beard came into view. The rest remained in the shadow of 
 the hat. Then Johannes recognized him. 
 
 "Friend Hein!" said he. And he was much more at his 
 ease than the first time he had seen him — in fact, not at all 
 afraid. 
 
 "How do you do?" said Death, nodding. How very kind 
 he looked, and how much more human! Not a bundle of 
 bones with a scythe! He looked instead more like a kind, 
 old — very, very old, uncle. 
 
 "What are you doing here?" asked Johannes. 
 
 "Things!" replied Death, drily. 
 
 "Are we going to be shipwrecked?"
 
 THEQUEST 313 
 
 Johannes had come to this conclusion without any special 
 alarm. It even seemed to him just now that a shipwreck 
 would be a rather interesting incident. 
 
 "No, no!" said Death. "Would you really like that?" 
 
 "I would not want it, but neither would I be afraid 
 of it." 
 
 "The last time we met, Johannes, you asked me to take 
 you with me." 
 
 "I would not ask you that now," said Johannes; "life is too 
 pleasant now." 
 
 "Then you are not afraid of me this time, Johannes ?" 
 
 "No; for now you look so much more friendly." 
 
 "And I am friendly, Johannes. The more you try your 
 best to live a fine life, the more friendly I become." 
 
 "But what do you mean, friend Hein ? I should think the 
 finer life became, the harder it would be to leave it." 
 
 " It must be the right sort of fineness, Johannes — the right 
 sort." 
 
 "Then it must certainly be that I am seeking the right kind 
 now, or you would not look so much more friendly." 
 
 "You are indeed seeking it, Johannes; but look w^ell to it 
 that you also find it. Take care! Take care! I should like 
 when I come again to look most friendly, dear Johannes, and 
 you must be careful to have it so." 
 
 "What shall I do, friend Hein ? How can I be certain of 
 the right way to live ? How can I make you look friendly 
 when you come again ?" 
 
 But Death turned away his pale face, gave a slight shake of 
 the head, and continued to sit immovable and silent. Once 
 again Johannes asked him a question, but it was of no avail. 
 Then his head grew heavy, his eyelids drooped, and every- 
 thing vanished under the veil of slumber, while his resting- 
 place quivered and shivered above the heaving waters. 
 
 When on deck, the next morning, the world looked again 
 most bright and cheerful. The sun was shining warmly, the
 
 314 THEOUEST 
 
 fresh, blue sea was sparkling in the light, and there, in front 
 of him — there lay the foreign land — a long line of grey- 
 white coast, basking in the October sunshine. On the hills 
 Johannes saw little houses standing out in full sight; and he 
 thought of the pettiness of life in those houses — of dress- 
 ing, of bread and butter, and of little children going to school; 
 — everything so trite and trivial, in what for him was so 
 strange and great. 
 
 They coursed up a large river, much broader than the 
 Rhine. The sea-gulls circled over the yellow water, and 
 rested on the sand-banks and the muddy shores. The fish- 
 ing-boats tacked in zig-zags all about, and throngs of ships 
 and steamboats came to meet them. At last there loomed 
 in the distance, enshrouded with a grey fog, a giant city — a 
 dark maze of masts and chimneys and towers. It was sombre, 
 awful, incomprehensible. 
 
 If Johannes had not been so absorbed in thinking of the 
 two children, he would have paid more attention to the city. 
 As it was, he only accepted it for a fact — the unforeseen 
 shadow of a mysterious substance — an ominous premoni- 
 tion, like the rumbling of the ground preceding an earth- 
 quake: an instant later all fear is over, and one thinks no 
 further about it. 
 
 So it was with Johannes; the great city, the miners — every- 
 thing was forgotten, when he heard the loved voices of the two 
 little girls. 
 
 They lived in a country-seat which to Johannes seemed a 
 small palace. It was built of red brick and grey limestone, 
 and stood on the summit of a hill, close by the shore. In the 
 garden were dark cedar-trees and holm-oaks, and large plots 
 of rhododendrons. The grass was short and even — quite 
 like green velvet; and through it led neat, trim paths of yel- 
 low gravel. 
 
 The day was far from being so pleasant as Johannes had 
 expected. In fact, it was very unpleasant. To be waited upon
 
 THE QUEST 315 
 
 by a lackey, as one comes without a trunk, from a third-class 
 carriage, is far from funny. Johannes had not heretofore 
 had such a trying experience. 
 
 Indoors, it was very still and stately. The children were 
 at their lessons, and for the first hour were invisible. Johan- 
 nes received an unfavorable impression of fashionable life. 
 He wished that he had not come. His hopefulness and confi- 
 dence suddenly took flight. He tripped over a rug of white 
 bearskin, and ran against a glass door, thinking it was open 
 — just as if he were a bumblebee behind a window-pane. 
 He wondered which was the quickest way out, and wished he 
 were with Markus again, in the small tavern. He was not 
 very far from crying. 
 
 On a couch in the quiet reception-room, beside a softly 
 crackling coal fire, sat the countess. Johannes strode up to 
 her, and made an awkward bow. A number of dogs, as many 
 as seven, snapped and yapped about his shin-bones. He 
 thought of his dicky and the green glass studs, and felt that 
 they could be making next to no impression. The countess 
 looked as if she did not quite remember who he was, nor 
 what could have been his object in coming. 
 
 "Sit down," she said, in English, with a formal smile, 
 and a weary tone of voice; "I hope you have had a pleasant 
 journey." 
 
 Johannes took a seat and, as he did so, observed that some 
 one else was in the room. He tried again to bow, but his 
 attempt was unnoticed. 
 
 That other indeed was a most impressive personage. She 
 lay back in an armchair, so enswathed in white lace, swan's 
 down, gauze, and tulle as to look still larger than she really 
 was. Upon her head was a huge hat, bearing natural-sized 
 plums and peaches, artificial blue flowers — forget-me-nots 
 and corn-flowers — besides a blue gauze veil. Her face was 
 amazingly big, and highly colored by nature, but toned down 
 with powder to a rosy flush. It was somewhat pimply, and 
 more or less moustached. Her fat, red, shiny hands were
 
 3i6 THE GUEST 
 
 rigid with jeweled rings; and, althougli it was not at all warm, 
 she waved incessantly a large fan of white ostrich-feathers, 
 in the midst of which glittered purple and green precious 
 stones. Most wonderful bangles of gold and silver — little 
 pigs, crosses, hearts, and coins — hung in a great bunch upon 
 her bosom, from a long, many-stranded necklace. A slender 
 crutch with a gold handle stood beside her chair, and on the 
 table at hand, a small green parrot was eating grapes. The 
 seven little dogs — all of them white, with pale-blue ribbons 
 around their necks — probably belonged to her. They sat 
 in a threatening circle, as if awaiting the word, and sharply 
 eyed Johannes' ankles. 
 
 "What does that boy want?" she asked, in a deep, heavy 
 voice, without even looking at Johannes. And before and 
 answer could come, she called, "Alice!" 
 
 Instantly, there appeared from behind a curtain, just as in 
 a comedy, a trim, spruce lady's-maid. She was dressed in 
 black, with cap and cuffs of dazzling whiteness. With quiet 
 little steps and mincing manners, she glided up to the large 
 lady, and offered a smelling-bottle, at which that person began 
 to sniff industriously. 
 
 Johannes sat there in extreme embarrassment. He felt 
 that the costly cut-glass smelling-bottle concerned himself. 
 It cried out, in the keen language of its hundreds of cut 
 facets, "You smell of the third class!" 
 
 He sat like one rooted to the spot, and all unnerved, look- 
 ing at the smelling-bottle as if he wished it was a dynamite 
 bomb which would promptly send himself, the fine house, and 
 all his beautiful illusions, flying into space. 
 
 Then Countess Dolores came to his rescue. 
 
 "Dear Lady Crimmetart," said she, in a coaxing voice, 
 "this is a very interesting youth — really, very interesting. 
 He is a young poet who sings his own compositions. Is it 
 not so, Johannes.'' They are so charmingly melancholy — 
 really, charmingly so! Indeed, you must hear them, dear 
 friend. I am sure they will please you."
 
 THE QUEST 317 
 
 "Really?" said the deep voice; and the blue goggle-eyes in 
 the frightfully big face glared at Johannes. 
 
 "Oh, yes, Lady Crimmetart," continued the countess; 
 "but that is not all. Johannes is also a medium — a sensi- 
 tive — who can see all kinds of elementals — sometimes even 
 in broad daylight. Is it not so, Johannes?" 
 
 Johannes was too much distressed and confounded to do 
 more than give a nod of stupefied acquiescence. 
 
 "Really?" said Lady Crimmetart, in a voice like that of a 
 ship's commander in heavy weather. "Then he must come 
 to my party next Saturday evening." 
 
 "Do you hear, Johannes? That is a great honor," said 
 Countess Dolores. "Lady Crimmetart is one of the clever- 
 est women in the world, and the elect of intellectual England 
 attend her parties." 
 
 "Young man," said Lady Crimmetart, "I will let you talk 
 with Ranji-Banji-Singh, of the University of Benares, the great 
 Theosophist, and with Professor von Pennewitz, from 
 Moscow." 
 
 One can well fancy what a fine prospect that opened out 
 for poor little Johannes! But Lady Crimmetart did not re- 
 quest; she commanded. It did not seem possible to decline. 
 
 Then came another housemaid — just as trim and still 
 and swift as the first one — to offer tea, little slices of bread 
 and butter, and hot cake. Johannes watched nervously, to 
 see how the others partook of them, and then tried to do as 
 they did. But, under the cool, keen regard of the trig maid, 
 of course he upset the milk. 
 
 "The bishop is coming, too! The angel!" burst forth 
 Lady Crimmetart. 
 
 Johannes had before his mind's eye the mitre and crozier 
 at the evening party. It made him think of Santa Claus. 
 Thereupon the ladies began chatting about church affairs, 
 the altar and the Lord's Supper, elections, and corn-laws, 
 until he could follow them no further. At last Alice was again 
 summoned, the carriage ordered, the smelling-bottle stored
 
 3i8 THE QUEST 
 
 away in a big reticule, the seven small dogs were arranged upon 
 a long, blue-silk cord — like a string of beads; and thus, with 
 the parrot upon the hand of the lady's maid, the procession 
 passed out. At the door, the great lady, who limped a little 
 with gout, turned round once again, while still fanning her- 
 self, and thundered: "Come on time, mind! And do not 
 forget your instrument!" 
 
 "A woman in a million," said Countess Dolores after she 
 had gone. "Is she not a wonderful woman, Jc^hannes ? So 
 good! So clever!" 
 
 "Yes!" replied Johannes, meekly, his thoughts occupied 
 anxiously with that instrument he was expected to take to 
 the party. 
 
 At last he heard the chattering of high-pitched little voices, 
 and the pattering of light little feet through the quiet house. 
 
 His heart began to thump. Then the door opened, and in 
 two seconds the dear, soft little hands put him into a tumult- 
 uous state, and the lively, high little voices quite overwhelmed 
 him. 
 
 He was consoled; and when they led him away, out-of- 
 doors, and he walked with them, one on each side, over the 
 green cliffs, beside the broad ocean — then he felt something 
 of the new happiness for which he had hoped. 
 
 But at night he could not sleep, and when it grew light he 
 still lay in a state of excitement, gazing at the handsome ceil- 
 ing of dark-brown wood whereon he could see little gilt stars. 
 
 He — Little Johannes — was being entertained by a 
 countess, ushered into a sphere of refinement, and living 
 with the dearest little creatures to be found among human 
 beings. He was with his child friends now, but yet he was 
 not happy. He was much too poor and too dull, and would 
 be pitifully mortified here. When he thought of that glitter- 
 ing smelling-bottle, and of the upset milk-pitcher, he buried 
 his face, in shame and bitterness, deep in the pillows. 
 
 Toward morning, when he fell asleep for a little while, he
 
 THE QUEST 319 
 
 dreamed of a big shop where swimming trousers only were 
 for sale in a hundred varieties of color and material, and 
 bordered with fur, cloth, leather, ermine, and velvet, and 
 decked with bows and monograms. And when Johannes 
 went in to select a pair for the party, an immense man, with 
 a long beard and a high fur cap, stood up behind the counter. 
 It was Professor von Pennewitz, and he gave Johannes 
 an examination; but Johannes knew nothing — absolutely 
 nothing. He failed. Then he was given a stringless violin, 
 and forced to play upon it. The professor was not pleased 
 with the performance; and taking off his fur cap, he completely 
 extinguished Johannes. Suffocated with the heat and close- 
 ness, the boy found himself awake, and clammy with distress, 
 having been aroused by a vigorous tap, tap, tap!
 
 Even before his "ya" (instead of the "yes" he had firmly 
 intended to say, but was surprised out of saying), the door 
 flew open, and the chambermaid came in bearing a big, sil- 
 ver tea-tray. She looked still more trig and trim than the 
 day before, as if all this time she had been standing under a 
 bell-glass. Without the least embarrassment, she went up to 
 Johannes and presented the tea. 
 
 Oh, woe! That was a distressing situation! Nothing of 
 the kind had befallen him since the whooping-cough period 
 while his mother was still living, and when she had brought 
 him, abed, tea and toast. Daatje had, indeed, come just 
 once to call him, and it had made him angry because it seemed 
 as if he were still a child. In Daatje's case, too, it was quite 
 difl^erent. She looked more like a nurse-maid. 
 
 But this utterly strange and stylish little lady, with arranged 
 hair, and a cap with snow-white strings, who surprised him in 
 his nightgown, sound and well, in bed, while his dick)' was still 
 hanging by itself over the back of a chair, and the green glass 
 studs were looking in a frightened way at the rest of the shabby 
 clothes lying scattered over the table — this housemaid put 
 him out of countenance. Blushing deeply, he declined the tea. 
 As each of his poor garments came under the eye or hand of 
 this pert chambermaid, he could feel her scornful, unuttered 
 thoughts, and he lay dead still while his room was being put in 
 order. He shrank under the sheets up to his nose, and grew 
 wet with perspiration. When the door closed behind her, he 
 took breath again, and regarded, in astonishment, the pitcher 
 of hot water and the snowy towels that she had left him, un- 
 certain exactly what it was he was expected to do with them 
 all. 
 
 Really, it was no trifling matter for Johannes — that en- 
 trance into a higher and finer station. 
 
 320
 
 THEQUEST 321 
 
 Things went rather better during the forenoon, for he stayed 
 with the two children and their German governess. With 
 this kind, every-day sort of person, Johannes felt more at his 
 ease; and he ventured to consult her about his clothes, and 
 what he might, and might not, do in such a grand house. 
 
 The countess herself he did not see until afternoon. Then, 
 through the medium of a housemaid, he received an invita- 
 tion to go to her. She wished to talk with him. 
 
 She was again resting on the sofa, and beckoned him to a 
 seat beside her. Johannes thought that she wished to ask 
 him about something. But no! She simply wanted a little 
 conversation — he must know what about. Then, very natu- 
 rally, Johannes could not think at all; and after a painful 
 quarter of an hour, during which he uttered scarcely anything 
 more than "Yes, Mevrouw!" or "No, Mevrouw!" he was dis- 
 missed, still more unhappy than before. 
 
 The principal meal, at half-past eight in the evening, was 
 no less distressingly formal, and full of trials. It was as quiet 
 as a funeral, voices were low and whispering, and the servants 
 moved noiselessly to and fro. The governess had told Johan- 
 nes that he must "dress" for dinner. But alas! poor fellow! 
 What had he to do it with ? 
 
 As he stood behind his chair, in his shabby jacket and 
 dicky, while the rose-shaded candles lighted up the flowers 
 and the glittering table-furnishings, and the countess came 
 into the great dim dining-room in her rustling, silk attire — 
 then again he felt really wretched. Besides, it was very awk- 
 ward trying to talk English here, and Dutch seemed not to 
 be in favor. He was conscious during each course of doing 
 something wrong or clumsy; and the lackeys, as they bent 
 over him in offering the dishes, breathed slightingly on his 
 neck. 
 
 The second night, being tired from lack of sleep, he soon 
 lost consciousness. But during the small hours he had a 
 thrilling and stirring time. Surely I do not need to tell you 
 what rude occurrences there may be in one's dreams. Raging
 
 322 THEQUEST 
 
 bulls tore after him as he tried to escape, meeting him again 
 and again at the turning of a lane. There were lonely rooms 
 whose doors flew open of their own accord — a footstep, and 
 a shadow around the corner — of it! There were railway 
 tracks with an oncoming train, and, suddenly — paralysis! 
 Then loud hangings at the door, and a call of "Johannes! 
 Johannes!" and, waking up, a deathly stillness. After that 
 he noticed some very queer and most astonishing things in 
 the room — a pair of pantaloons that walked away of itself, 
 and in the corner a blood-curdling phantom. And then he 
 was conscious of not being awake, and of making a desperate 
 effort to shake oflT sleep. Such was the frightful time which 
 befell Johannes that night. 
 
 At last, when he actually woke himself up with a scream 
 that he heard resounding in the stillness, and while he lay listen- 
 inp: to the beating of his heart, he also heard, like a soft echo 
 of his cry, a fearful, smothered moaning and lamenting that 
 lingered in the silent hallways of the darkened house When 
 all was still, he thought it had been a part of his dreams. But 
 even while he was lying wide awake, it began again, and it 
 was such a dismal sound he could feel the goose-flesh forming. 
 Then silence. "It must have been a dog," he thought. But 
 there it was! A dog does not groan like that! It was a hu- 
 man voice. Could Olga or Frieda be ill ^ 
 
 The next time it came, he knew it was not the voice either 
 of Olea or of Frieda. It was that of a much older person — 
 not an invalid, but some one in mortal anguish — some one 
 being menaced, who was imploring pity. He heard some- 
 thing like "Oh! Oh! — O God, have mercy!" But he could 
 not understand the words, for the sounds came faintly. 
 
 He thought a murder was being committed, and he re- 
 called that Death had been his fellow traveler. He sprang 
 out of bed and stepped into the dark hall. Everything 
 was quiet there. The sound came from upstairs, and now 
 he heard, replying to the groans, a calm, soothing, hushing 
 voice — sometimes commanding, sometimes coaxing. A door
 
 THEQUEST 323 
 
 opened, and a faint light shone out. Another door was opened 
 and then closed. All this seemed to prove that Johannes' 
 intervention was not at all necessary, and that he would per- 
 haps cut a ridiculous figure by attempting to step in as a res- 
 cuer. Then, unnerved and miserable, he went to sleep 
 again. 
 
 In the morning, both little girls and the governess partook 
 of their breakfast of tea, malted milk, toasted bread, and ham 
 and eggs, just as if nothing had happened. The mother was 
 to be away again until afternoon. Frieda and Olga sat 
 peacefully and quietly eating, like well bred little girls. 
 
 At last Johannes could keep silence no longer, and said to 
 the governess: 
 
 "Did anything bad happen in the night?" 
 
 "No," said the young German lady, looking at her plate. 
 "There is an invalid in the house." 
 
 "Did you hear Helene?" asked Olga, looking at Johannes 
 earnestly. "I never hear her now. At first I used to very 
 plainly, but now I sleep through it. Poor Helene!" 
 
 "Poor Helene!" lisped Frieda dutifully after her, resuming 
 her busy spooning of the malted milk. 
 
 At noon Johannes was again summoned to the drawing- 
 room. He had had a long walk, alone, beside the sea, and 
 felt more at his ease. He had resolved to ask if he might not 
 go away, since he was out of place here, and felt unhappy. 
 And the party the next evening, at Lady Crimmetart's, where 
 he was expected with an instrument — that was too much 
 for him. He must get away before that. 
 
 But ere he had a chance to speak about it, his hostess 
 began thus: 
 
 "Were you alarmed in the night, Johannes.? Did you 
 hear anything ?" 
 
 Johannes nodded. 
 
 "Well, now that I trust you, fully, I will confide to you my 
 sorrowful secret. Listen."
 
 324 THEQUEST 
 
 And the estimable and attractive woman beckoned him, 
 with her loveHest smile, to sit beside the sofa, on a low stool. 
 
 It made Johannes feel as if he had been brought, nearly 
 benumbed, into a warm room. Pleasant tinglings coursed 
 down his back, and a fine feeling of contentment and secur- 
 ity came over him. The countess rested her soft, delicate 
 hand upon his own, and looked into his eyes, kindly. How 
 beautiful she was! And what a sweet, caressing voice she 
 had! All the distress of those recent days was more than 
 amended. 
 
 "I am going to speak to you, my dear Johannes, as if you 
 were much older than you are. You really do seem to me 
 older and wiser than your years would lead one to expect." 
 
 Johannes was charmed. 
 
 "You must know, then, that my life has been full of suffer- 
 ing. Sorrow has been, so to speak, my constant companion, 
 from earliest youth." 
 
 Johannes' heart was aglow with compassion. In well- 
 chosen words, and in the flowing English that Johannes 
 more admired than comprehended, the lady continued: 
 
 "My marriage was very unhappy. Constrained by my 
 parents I married a rich man whom I did not love. He is 
 dead now. I will not speak any evil of him." 
 
 Johannes that instant made up his mind to a certainty that 
 the man had been a wretch. 
 
 "Neither will I trouble you with the story of all our misery. 
 It suffices to say that we did not belong to each other, and 
 each embittered the other's life. After six years of torture — 
 it was nothing else — something happened . . . what usu- 
 ally happens in such cases. . . . Do you understand?" 
 
 Johannes, greatly to his vexation, did not understand, and 
 he felt himself to be very stupid. 
 
 "I became fond of another. . . . Do you think less of 
 me for that ?" 
 
 "No! No!" said Johannes' head, as he shook it emphat- 
 ically.
 
 THE GUEST 
 
 325 
 
 "Fortunately, my dear boy, I can say that I have nothing 
 to reproach myself with, and can look into the faces of my 
 children without shame. The man for whom I cared was 
 unhappily married — just as I was. We have never seen 
 each other again — not even. ..." 
 
 There was a pause in which the voice of the beautiful 
 speaker broke, while her eyes were veiled in the tears that 
 she was making an effort to repress. Johannes' heart was 
 melting with sympathy. 
 
 "Not even," she resumed, "when I was free. My hus- 
 band made this the opportunity for taking away from me my 
 two children. For years I lived separated from them, even 
 in poverty and privation, with only one old servant who, not- 
 withstanding his low wages, would not desert me. 
 
 "During that time, my boy, — you may be surprised to 
 know it, — I longed not only for my children, but even for 
 him who had caused me so much suffering. The mutual 
 parentage of dearly loved children is a wonderful bond that 
 is never completely severed. I would have forgiven him all 
 if he had only called me back." 
 
 A silence, in which Johannes' heart, already so inclined to 
 admiration, surrendered itself wholly. The lady continued: 
 
 "I was recalled, but alas! too late. They telegraphed me 
 that he was ill, and wished to speak with me. When I ar- 
 rived, he lay raving, and never recovered his reason. For 
 three days and nights I sat beside him, almost without sleep, 
 to catch anything he might have to say to me. But he raved 
 and raved, incessantly, uttering nothing but nonsense and 
 inarticulate sounds. He certainly knew me; but just the 
 same, he remained hard and cold — sometimes taunting, 
 sometimes angry and abusive. Never shall I forget that 
 night ..." 
 
 With my own two children I found an older girl whom I 
 had never seen. They told me she was a child of a former 
 union. I had never even heard of her. Where the mother 
 was, no one could say. It was thought she was not living.
 
 326 THEQUEST 
 
 The girl was then about fifteen years of age, beautiful, with a 
 brilliant color, a fine profile, and flowing black hair." 
 "More beautiful than Frieda or Olga ?" asked Johannes. 
 The countess smiled. 
 
 "Quite another kind of beauty. Much more gloomy and 
 melancholy. When I went to her, she sat crying, and would 
 pay no attention to me. 'Every one dislikes me,' she kept 
 saying. And she repeated this all day long. She did nothing 
 but walk back and forth, crying and lamenting. Only with 
 the greatest trouble could she be induced to rise in the morn- 
 ing, and be dressed, and in the evening, to go to sleep. Her 
 mind was diseased, and little by Httle it has grown worse. 
 My husband died, and I remained with the three daughters, 
 caring for them as well as I could." 
 
 Countess Dolores studied for a while her beautiful, gem- 
 adorned hands, and then went on, with frequent pauses. 
 
 "Helene knew very little concerning her mother; but she 
 steadfastly maintained that she was living, and would return, 
 and also . . . that her father and mother had been mar- 
 ried. . . 
 
 Another prolonged silence, the countess regarding Johan- 
 nes with her lightly half-closed eyes, to see if he understood. 
 Apparently he did not understand; for he sat, in unsuspect- 
 ing patience, waiting for whatever else was to be said. 
 
 "Can you fancy, Johannes, what that would signify to me 
 . . . to my children ... if it were true?" 
 
 Johannes fancied only that he was looking at the speaker 
 in a somewhat confounded and sheepish manner. 
 "Bigamy, Johannes, is a terrible crime!" 
 Wait! — A light broke in upon him, albeit a feeble one. 
 His dearly loved children, then, were not legal — were ille- 
 gitimate — natural, or whatever it was called. Yes, indeed! 
 That was terrible, even though no one, to look at them, would 
 ever think it. But the countess enlightened him still further. 
 "The idea of living upon the property of another, Johannes, 
 is, to a woman of honor, insufferable!"
 
 THEQUEST 327 
 
 What more ? The property of another ? Then all this 
 suniptuousness, belonged, perhaps, to poor, crazed Helene; 
 and his dear, pretty children and their beautiful mother were 
 only illegal intruders — usurpers of another's possessions! 
 
 Johannes faithfully tried his best to feel as the speaker did 
 about all these curious and confusing things. But he did not 
 succeed. Then, in his desire to comfort her, he gallantly 
 uttered in broken English whatever came into his head. 
 
 "No, Mevrouw; you must not think that. You are beauti- 
 ful and your children are beautiful, and therefore everything 
 that is beautiful belongs to you, I do not believe you have 
 cause to be ashamed, for I have seen no sign of it. If there 
 were any disgrace, I should have detected it. And how is 
 any one to suppose that such evidence exists either on paper 
 or in some secret closet or other — who knows where ? Are 
 you and Frieda and Olga any less beautiful, less lovely, 
 less good ? I do not care a bit about it. Absolutely 
 nothing." 
 
 The countess laughed so heartily, and pressed his hand so 
 warmly, that Johannes was embarrassed. 
 
 "Oh, you lovely boy!" she laughingly cried. "Oh, you 
 queer, funny, darling of a boy! How you cheer me up! I 
 have not been so light-hearted in a long time." 
 
 Johannes was very glad, and proud of his success. Coun- 
 tess Dolores dried her tears of laughter upon her lace hand- 
 kerchief, and resumed: 
 
 " But now we must be in earnest. It will be clearer to you 
 now why I am so interested in all that pertains to spiritual- 
 ism and theosophy — why I listen so eagerly to the wisdom of 
 Mijnheer van Lieverlee, and of Lady Crimmetart — why I 
 attend the circle of the Pleiades, at the Hague — and, too, 
 why it made me so happy to meet you, when I heard that you 
 also were a medium, and could see the elementals, in full 
 daylight." 
 
 "But why, Mevrouw?" asked Johannes, in some distress. 
 
 "How can you ask that, my dear boy! Nothing can ever
 
 328 THE QUEST 
 
 bring back my peace of mind, except one word from him, 
 from the other side of the grave ! " 
 
 Ah ! but that was a hard blow for Johannes. He was 
 not so troubled at having been invited as a guest, for a 
 side purpose — he was not so overweening as that — but 
 because he was surely going to be a disappointment to his 
 beloved countess. With a sigh he looked down at the 
 carpet. 
 
 "Shall we not make a call upon the invalid?" asked the 
 lady, rising. 
 
 Johannes nodded, and followed her. 
 
 The door of the sick-room was barely open, when a pitiable 
 scream rang out from the corner. The poor girl sat on the 
 floor, huddled up in her nightgown, her long black hair dis- 
 heveled, and hanging down over face and back. Her beauti- 
 ful dark eyes were widely distended, and her features wore an 
 expression of mortal anguish. 
 
 "Oh, God! — It is coming!" she shrieked, trembling. 
 "Now it will happen! Oh, God! It surely will! I know 
 it will! There it comes! Did I not say so? Now it comes! 
 —Oh! Oh! Oh!" 
 
 The nurse hushed and commanded, but the poor, tormented 
 creature trembled and wept, and seemed so desperately 
 afraid, that Johannes, greatly moved, begged leave to go 
 away again. It seemed as if she were afraid of him. 
 
 "No, my boy!" said the countess. "It is not on account 
 of you. She does that way whoever comes in. She is afraid 
 of everybody and everything she sees or hears. 
 
 That whole day, and a good deal of the night, Johannes 
 mused over this one query: "Why — ix.]}-^ is that poor girl 
 so afraid ?"
 
 VI 
 
 Johannes did not leave, and at last came the day of the 
 dreaded party. Having grown more confident, he had spoken 
 of his needs. The carriage put in an appearance, and in the 
 neighboring town, he was soon provided with suitable clothing. 
 
 Still, his mind was not quite at rest. 
 
 "Will you also say, dear lady," said Johannes that after- 
 noon, when with the children and their mother, "that I truly 
 cannot play upon any instrument ? Please don't ask me to 
 do anything!" 
 
 "But, Johannes," urged the countess, "that would really 
 be very disagreeable in me. After what I have said, something 
 will be expected of you." 
 
 "I cannot do anything!" said Johannes, in distress. 
 
 "He is joking. Mama," said Olga; "he can play the cas- 
 tanets and can imitate animals." 
 
 "Oh, yes! all kinds of animals! Awfully nice!" cried 
 Frieda. 
 
 "Is that so, Johannes? Well, then.''" 
 
 It was true that Johannes had amused his two little friends 
 while they were taking walks together — miniicking all sorts 
 of animal sounds, like those of the horse, donkey, cow, dog, 
 cat, pig, sheep, and goat. He had whistled like the birds so 
 cleverly that the two little girls had been enraptured. And 
 one single instrument he did indeed play admirably — the 
 genuine boys' castanets that every schoolboy and street urchin 
 in Holland carries in his pocket certain months of the 
 year. Many an autumn day, sauntering home from school, 
 he had shortened the way for himself with the sharp, clear, 
 uninterrupted "a-rick-a-ty,tick-a-ty//V/:/ — a-rick-a-ty,tick-a-ty 
 tick! — a-rick-a-ty, tick-a-ty tick! — tack! tack!" 
 
 The little girls now begged him to let their mama hear. So 
 
 329
 
 330 
 
 THE QUEST 
 
 he took out his castanets, which he himself had made while 
 there, and cHcked away with them lustily. 
 
 "Delightful!" cried the countess. "Now you must sing 
 and dance at the same time, like the Spaniards." 
 
 Johannes shied at the dancing. But indeed he would sing. 
 And he sang all kinds of street ditties, such as "Oh, Mother, 
 the Sailor!" and "Sara, you're losing your Petticoat," to the 
 merry music of the castanets. The children thought it splendid. 
 
 Their enthusiasm excited him, and he began improvising 
 all sorts of nonsense. The little girls clapped their hands, 
 and the longer he played the more merry they grew. Johan- 
 nes struck an attitude, and announced his selections just as if 
 he were before an audience. The countess and her daughters 
 went and sat in a row — the little girls wild with delight. 
 
 "Sketches from Animal Life," announced Johannes, begin- 
 ning, to the time-keeping accompaniment of the castanets, the 
 well-known air from The Carnival of Venice, 
 
 "A hen that came from Japan 
 Assured a crippled toad 
 She'd never have him for her man. 
 That was a sorry load." 
 
 The little girls shouted and stamped, with glee. 
 "More, Jo! — More, more, Johannes! Do!" 
 "Splendid!" cried the countess, speaking in Dutch, now. 
 herself. 
 
 "A rhinoceros said to a louse, 
 
 'I'll stamp you flat on the ground!' 
 The louse made tracks for his house. 
 And there he is now to be found. 
 
 "A grasshopper sat In the grass, 
 And said to a chimpanzr^'.- 
 * Your coat I will thank you to pass, 
 That I may attend a part/V.'
 
 THEQUEST 331 
 
 "A snoop who stood on the stoop 
 Asked of his fellow boarder 
 If hairs he found in the soup. 
 
 The hostess? — 'Twas malice toward her! 
 
 "A crab who enjoyed a joke, 
 Gave his mama a kick. 
 And when she dropped at his poke. 
 He laughed till the tears fell thick." 
 
 "Hey, there!" the little girls shouted boisterously. "Jolly! 
 More, more! Jo!" 
 
 "A stock-fish, deaf-and-dumb born. 
 
 Once said to a billy-goat: 
 'Of my head I see I am shorn ■ — 
 'Twas you did it, silly goat!'" 
 
 "There, there, Johannes! That will do. Now you are 
 getting foolish," said the mother. 
 
 "Oh, no. Mama! Only funny!" cried Frieda and Olga. 
 "He is so funny! Go on, Jo!" 
 
 But Johannes was quite disconcerted by the mother's com- 
 ment, and there was no further exposition of "Sketches from 
 Animal Life." 
 
 In the evening Johannes drove with the countess in the 
 state-coach to Lady Crimmetart's. Milady dwelt in a very 
 handsome house — a castle in a large park. From a distance, 
 Johannes could see the brightly lighted windows, and also 
 the vehicles in front of the pillars, at the entrance. 
 
 Overhead, an awning was spread, and a long strip of heavy, 
 bright-red carpeting laid down, so that^ the guests might be 
 protected in passing from their carriages to the magnificent 
 vestibule. The w^ay was lined with lackeys — full twenty on 
 each side. They looked very impressive, all of them tall and 
 heavy, wearing knee-breeches of yellow plush, and red lace-
 
 332 THEQUEST 
 
 trimmed coats. Johannes was puzzled because they all 
 seemed to be such old men. Their hair was white as snow. 
 That was powder, however, and it added to their dignity. 
 How small and shabby Johannes felt while running the gaunt- 
 let of those liveried lackeys! 
 
 Indoors, Johannes was completely blinded by the dazzling 
 light. He ascended a vaulted staircase, the broad steps of 
 which were of many-colored marble. He saw vaguely, flowers, 
 electric lamps, variegated carpets, broad, conspicuously 
 white expanses of shirt-linen bordered with black coat, and 
 bare necks adorned with gems and white lace. He heard 
 a subdued murmur of soft voices, the rustling of silk clothing, 
 the announcement of names. 
 
 In the background, at the top of the stairs, the swollen 
 visage of Lady Crimmetart was glowing like a railway danger- 
 signal. All the guests went up to her, and their names being 
 spoken, each one received a bow and a handshake. 
 
 "What name, sir?" asked a colossal lackey, as he bent 
 obliquely over Johannes. Johannes stammered out some- 
 thing, but the countess repeated it, changed. 
 
 "Professor Johannes, of Holland!" he heard called out. 
 He bowed, received a handshake, and saw the powdered face 
 smiling — or grinning — with affected sweetness. Lady 
 Crimmetart's neck and arms were so fat and bare that Johan- 
 nes was nearly terrified by them, and did not dare look straight. 
 They were loaded with precious stones — big, flat, square, 
 uniformly cut diamonds, alternating with pear-shaped pearls. 
 Three white ostrich feathers bobbed in her head-dress. There 
 were no animals at her side, but of course she had her fan and 
 her gold-headed crutch. 
 
 "How do you do?" inquired the deep voice. But before 
 Johannes could reply that he was pretty well, she addressed 
 herself, with a grinning smile, to the next comer. Beside her 
 stood a short, heavily built man. He had a shiny, bald head, 
 a red face with deeply cut lines, and a large, bony nose. It 
 was precisely such a head as one sees carved upon knobs of
 
 THEQUEST ^^^ 
 
 walking-sticks and parasols. It was Lord Crimmetart who 
 stood there, and he gave Johannes' hand a firm clasp. 
 
 For an hour or so Johannes wandered about in the midst 
 of the crowd. He felt dispirited and lonesome to begin with; 
 and the babel of voices, the sheen and rustle of silken gar- 
 ments, the glitter of lights and of precious stones, the uniforms, 
 bare necks, and white shirt-fronts, and the heavy scent of per- 
 fumery and of flowers, — all this oppressed him until he be- 
 came deeply dejected. There was such a press of people 
 that at times he could not stir, and the ladies and gentlemen 
 talked straight into his face. How he longed for a quiet cor- 
 ner and an every-day companion! Everybody except himself 
 had something to say. There was no one among those pass- 
 ing by so forlorn as he. He did not understand what they 
 all could be saying to one another. The scraps of conversa- 
 tion that did reach him were about the stir in the room and 
 the magnificence of the party. But the saying of that was not 
 the reason for their having come together. 
 
 Johannes felt that the feast of the elves in the dunes had 
 been far more pleasant. 
 
 Then, strains of music reached him from a stringed orches- 
 tra hidden behind green laurel. That awakened longings 
 almost painful, and he drew closer, to sit down, unobserved, 
 and let the people stream by. There he sat, with moistened 
 eyes, looking dreamily out before him, while his thoughts 
 dwelt upon quiet dunes and sounding seas on a moonlit 
 night. 
 
 "Professor Johannes, let me introduce you to Professor 
 von Pennewitz," rang suddenly in his ears. He rose to his feet 
 startled. There stood Lady Crimmetart beside a diminu- 
 tive man, whose scanty grey locks hung down to his coat- 
 collar. The vision was little like Johannes' dream. 
 
 "This is a youthful prodigy. Professor von Pennewitz — 
 a young poet who recites his own compositions. At the same 
 time he is a famous medium. You certainly will have inter- 
 esting things to say to each other."
 
 334 
 
 THE GUEST 
 
 Thereupon, Lady Crimmetart disappeared again among 
 the other guests, leaving the two bowing to each other — 
 Johannes abashed and perplexed, von Pennewitz bowing and 
 rubbing his hands together, teetering up and down on his 
 toes, and smiling. 
 
 "Now for the examination!" thought Johannes, waiting 
 in mute patience — a victim to whatever wise questions 
 the great man was to pillory him with. 
 
 "Have you — ah — known the family here for long?" 
 asked von Pennewitz — opening and closing his thin lips with 
 a sipping sound, while with fingers affectedly spread, he ad- 
 justed his eyeglasses, peering over the tops of them at Jo- 
 hannes. 
 
 "No, I do not know them at all!" replied Johannes, shak- 
 ing his head. 
 
 "No?" said von Pennewitz, rubbing and wringing his 
 hands, most cheerfully. And then he continued, in broken 
 English: 
 
 "Well, well! That pleases me. Neither do I. Curious 
 people! Do you not think so, young man ?" 
 
 Johannes, somewhat encouraged by this affability, gave a 
 hesitating assent. 
 
 "Have you such types in Holland, also? Surely upon a 
 more modest scale? Ha! ha! ha! — These people are as- 
 tonishingly rich! Have you tried their champagne? — No? 
 Then you must just come with me to the buffet. It is 
 w^orth the trouble, I can assure you." 
 
 Happy, now, to be at least walking with some one, Johan- 
 nes followed the little man, who piloted him through the packed 
 mass of people. 
 
 Arrived at the buffet they drank of the sparkling wine. 
 
 "But, sir," said Johannes, "I have heard that Lady Crim- 
 metart is so very clever." 
 
 "Have you, indeed?" said the Professor, looking again at 
 Johannes over the top of his glasses, and nodding his head. 
 "I have nothing to say about that. Much traveled — papa
 
 THE QUEST 335 
 
 a boarding-house keeper — a smattering of almost everything. 
 Nowadays one can get a good deal out of the newspapers. 
 Do you read the papers, young man ?" 
 
 "Not much, sir," said Johannes. 
 
 "Good! Be cautious about it. Let me give you some 
 extra-good advice. Read few newspapers, and eat few oysters. 
 Especially in Rome eat no oysters. I have just come from a 
 fatal case of poisoning — a Roman student." 
 
 Johannes mentally resolved, on the spot, to eat anything in 
 Rome rather than oysters. 
 
 "Is Lord Crimmetart also so clever. Professor?" asked 
 Johannes. 
 
 "He is bright enough. In order to become a Lord and an 
 arch-millionaire by means of patent pills alone, one needs to 
 be a bright rascal. Just try it! Ha! ha! ha!" 
 
 The professor laughed heartily, snorted and sniffed, clicked 
 his false teeth, and finished off his glass. Then he said: 
 
 "But take care, young man, that you do not marry before 
 you have made your pile. That was a stupid move of his. 
 He would be able to do very much better now. If he chose, 
 he might win Countess Dolores." 
 
 The blood rushed to Johannes' head, and he flushed deeply, 
 
 "I am staying there, sir!" said he, considerably touched. 
 
 "Is that so.'' Is that so?" replied the professor, in a pro- 
 pitiatory tone. " But I said nothing about her, you know. A 
 most charming woman. A perfect beauty. So she is your 
 hostess? Well, well, well!" 
 
 "There is His Grace, the bishop!" cried the heavy voice 
 of Lady Crimmetart, as she passed by, hurrying toward the 
 entrance. 
 
 Johannes was on the qui vive for the white mitre and the 
 gilded crozier, but he could see only a tall, ordinary gentle- 
 man in a black suit, and wearing gaiters. He had a smooth, 
 good-looking face, that bore an affected smile; and in his 
 hand he held a curious, flat hat, the brim of which was held
 
 336 THEOUEST 
 
 up with cords, as if otherwise it might droop down over his 
 nose. Lady Crimmetart received him quite as warmly as 
 Aunt Serena received the dominie. How Johannes wished he 
 was still at his Aunt Serena's! 
 
 "Sir!" said some one at his ear, "Milady wishes to know 
 if you have brought your instrument, and if you will not begin 
 now." 
 
 Johannes looked round, in a fright. He saw a portly per- 
 sonage with an upstroked moustache, in black satin short- 
 clothes, and a red coat — evidently a master of ceremonies. 
 
 "I have no instrument," stammered Johannes. But he 
 did have his castanets in his pocket. "I cannot do any- 
 thing," he repeated — most miserable. 
 
 The pompous one glanced right and left, as if he had made 
 some mistake. Then he stepped away a moment, to return 
 soon, accompanied by Countess Dolores. 
 
 "What is it, my dear Johannes ?" said the countess. "You 
 must not disappoint us." 
 
 "But, Mevrouw, I really cannot." 
 
 The pompous one stood by, looking on in a cool, impassive 
 way, as if quite accustomed to the sight of freaks who w^ere 
 considered youthful prodigies. Johannes' forehead was wet 
 with perspiration. 
 
 "Indeed you can, Johannes! You are sure to do well." 
 
 "What shall I announce?" asked the pompous one. Jo- 
 hannes did not understand the question, but the countess re- 
 plied, in his stead. 
 
 In a twinkling he was standing beside a piano encircled by 
 guests, and he saw hundreds of eyes, with and without eye- 
 glasses, fastened upon him. Straight in front — next Lady 
 Crimmetart — sat the bishop, looking at him severely and 
 critically, out of hard, cold, light-blue eyes. 
 
 The master of ceremonies called out, loudly and clearly: 
 
 "National Hymns of Holland." And then poor Little 
 Johannes had to clap and sing — whatever he could. To
 
 THE QUEST 337 
 
 keep up courage, he threw just a glance at the beautiful face 
 of the countess, with its near-sighted eyes — and tried to 
 think it was for her alone that he sang. He did his best, and 
 sang in tremolo from "Oh, Mother, the Mariner!" and "We 
 are going to America," to "The Hen from Japan," and "The 
 Tiger of Timbuctoo" — his entire repertory. 
 
 They listened, and looked at him as if they thought him 
 a queer specimen; but no one laughed. Neither the goggle- 
 eyes of the hostess, nor the stern regard of the bishop, nor 
 one of the hundreds of other pairs of eyes pertaining to these 
 richly dressed and excellent ladies and gentlemen, evinced 
 the slightest token of emotion, happy or otherwise. That 
 was scarcely to be wondered at, since they did not understand 
 the words; but it was not encouraging. Without loss of time, 
 most of them turned away their attention, and began anew 
 their laughing and chattering. 
 
 When he stopped, there sounded, to his astonishment, a 
 lone hand-clapping, and Countess Dolores came up to him, 
 gave her hand, and congratulated him upon his success. 
 Lady Crimmetart, also, thundered out that it was "awfully 
 interesting." A tall, thin young lady, in white satin, whose 
 prominent collar bones were but slightly concealed by a ten- 
 fold necklace of pearls, came, smiling sweetly, to press his 
 hand. She was so happy, she said, to have heard the Car- 
 nival of Venice in the original, by a veritable resident of the 
 city. "How peculiarly interesting! But it must be so nice. 
 Professor ... ah! I have lost your name! . . . so nice to 
 live in a city lying wholly under water, and where everybody 
 wears wooden shoes!" 
 
 "Was that entirely your own composition. Professor Jo- 
 hannes?" inquired a plain, good-natured Httle lady, in a 
 simple black gown. And several other women, of riper years, 
 sought to introduce themselves. He really brightened up a 
 little at these tokens of approval, although he rather mis- 
 trusted their sincerity. When, however, he found himself 
 beside a group of tall, broad-shouldered Britishers, with high
 
 338 THEQUEST 
 
 collars, florid, smooth-shaven cheeks, and trim, closely- 
 cropped, wavy, blonde hair, who, one hand in the trousers' 
 pocket, stood drinking champagne, he heard such expressions 
 as "beastly," "rot," and "humbug," and he very well knew 
 that the words were applied to himself. 
 
 Shortly after this it became clear to him w^hat constitutes 
 genuine success. A robust young lady, with very artfully • 
 ■ arranged hair, and pretty white teeth, sang, accompanied by 
 the piano, a German song. With her head swaying from 
 side to side and occasionally tossed backward, and with her 
 mouth open very wide, she threw out trills and runs, like a 
 veritable music-box> The sound of it all pierced through to 
 Johannes' very marrow. What her song was intended to say, 
 it was hard to tell, for she spoke a remarkable kind of Ger- 
 man. Apparently, she was exciting herself over a faithless 
 lover, or mistress, and dying — out of sheer affection. 
 
 When she had ended, and made a sweet, smiling bow, a 
 vigorous round of applause followed, with cries of "bis," and 
 "encore." Johannes had not himself received such acclaim, 
 nor would he now take part therein. 
 
 In his dejection, he went to find Countess Dolores. She 
 was the only one there to whom he could turn for comfort. 
 He asked if he might not take his leave, since he was tired, and 
 did not feel at home where he was. 
 
 The countess herself appeared not to be very well satis- 
 fied; she had won no honors through him, nevertheless she 
 said: 
 
 "Come, my boy, do not be discouraged! You have still 
 other gifts. Have you spoken with Ranji-Banji-Singh ?" 
 
 A little earlier, Johannes had seen the tall East-Indian, 
 with head erect, and a courtly carriage, striding through the 
 motley crowd. He had wide nostrils, large, handsome eyes 
 with somewhat drooping lids, a light-brown complexion, 
 splendid blue-black hair, and a sparse beard. He wore his 
 white turban, and yellow silk clothing, with solemn ceremo- 
 niousness. When any one spoke to him, he smiled most
 
 THEQUEST 339 
 
 condescendingly, and, closing his eyes, he laid his slender hand, 
 with its pale nails and upturned finger-tips, upon his bosom, 
 and made a profound and graceful bow. 
 
 Johannes had noticed him especially, as one to whom he 
 felt more attracted than to any other; and he had visions of 
 deep, blue skies, majestic elephants, rustling palms, and palace 
 facades of pale marble, on the banks of the Sacred River. 
 However, he had not dared to address him. 
 
 But now the countess and Johannes went to find him, and 
 find him they did, beside Lady Crimmetart, in a circle of 
 ladies to whom he appeared to be speaking in rotation, with 
 a courtly smile. 
 
 "Mr. Ranji-Banji-Singh," said Countess Dolores, "have 
 you made the acquaintance of Professor Johannes, of Hol- 
 land .'' He is a great medium, and you certainly will find 
 him sympathetic." 
 
 The East-Indian showed his white teeth again, in a winning 
 smile, and gave his hand to Johannes. The boy felt, how- 
 ever, that it was not given from the heart. 
 
 "But are you not also a medium, Mr. Singh?" asked one 
 of the ladies, "such a great theosophist as you!" 
 
 Ranji-Banji-Singh threw back his head, made with his 
 clasped hands a gesture as if warding off something, and 
 smiling disdainfully, said, in broken English: 
 
 "Theosophists not mediums. Mediums is organ-grinders 
 — theosophist, composer. Medium-tricks stand low; — 
 street-jugglery for gold. Theosophist and Yogi can every- 
 thing, all the same — can much more, but not show. That 
 is meanness, unworthiness!" 
 
 The slender brown hand was shaken in Johannes' face, in 
 an endeavor to express its owner's contempt, while the dark 
 face of the East-Indian took on an expression of one com- 
 pelled to drink something bitter. 
 
 That was too much for Johannes, Feeling himself mis- 
 understood by the only one upon whom he cared to make a 
 good impression, he said, angrily:
 
 340 THEQUEST 
 
 "I never perform tricks, sir. I exhibit nothing. I am 
 not a medium." 
 
 "Not by profession — not a professional medium," said 
 Countess Dolores, to save the situation. 
 
 "Then you do not practise table-tilting, nor slate-w^riting, 
 nor flower-showering?" asked the East-Indian, while his face 
 cleared. 
 
 "No, sir! Nothing whatever!" said Johannes, emphat- 
 ically. 
 
 "If I had known that!" exclaimed Lady Crimmetart, 
 while her eyes seemed almost rolling out of her head. "But, 
 Mr. Singh, can you not, just for this one time, show us some- 
 thing ? Let us see something wonderful ? A spinning tam- 
 bourine, or a violin that plays of itself? Do, now! When 
 we ask you so pleadingly, and when I look at you so fondly! 
 Come!" 
 
 And she cast sheep's eyes at Mr. Ranji-Banji-Singh in a 
 manner which did not in the least arouse Johannes' envy. 
 
 The theosophist bowed again, smiling with closed eyes, but 
 at the same time contracting his brows as if struggling with 
 his aversion. 
 
 Then they went to a boudoir having glass walls and exotic 
 plants — a kind of small conservatory, in a soft twilight. 
 There they seated themselves at a table, with the East-Indian 
 in the circle. Johannes was promptly excluded with the 
 words: "Antipathetic! Bad influence!" 
 
 "That's Keesje, yet — surely!" thought Johannes. 
 
 Then there was writing upon slates held by Mr. Singh in 
 one hand, under the table. The scratching of the pencil 
 could be heard, and soon the slate reappeared — covered 
 with writing in various languages — English, Latin, and 
 Sanscrit. These sentences were translated by the East-In- 
 dian, and appeared to contain very wise and elevating 
 lessons. 
 
 But Johannes had the misfortune to notice that the slate 
 which should have been written upon was quickly exchanged
 
 THEQUEST 341 
 
 by the theosophist the instant that he succeeded in divert- 
 ing the attention of all the on-lookers. And Johannes added 
 to his inauspicious observation the imprudent exclamation — 
 loud and triumphant — "I see it all! He is exchanging 
 slates!" 
 
 A regular riot ensued. Yet Ranji-Banji-Singh, with the 
 utmost calmness, brought the exchanged slate to light again, 
 and, with a triumphant smile, showed that it was without 
 writing. Johannes looked baffled, yet he knew to a certainty 
 that he had seen the deception, and he cried: "I saw it, 
 nevertheless!" 
 
 "For shame!" thundered Lady Crimmetart. And all the 
 other ladies cried indignantly, "Disgraceful!" 
 
 Ranji-Banji-Singh, with a taunting smile said: "I have 
 compassion. Yogi knew not hate, but pity evil-doer. Bad 
 Karma. Unhappy person, this!" 
 
 That did not agree with what Herr van Lieverlee had 
 said. He had commended Johannes' Karma. But Countess 
 Dolores, now realizing that she was to have no further 
 satisfaction out of her protege, at once withdrew, and quite 
 good-naturedly, so that he might not feel at all reproached. 
 Indeed, she comforted him, with her friendly jests. 
 
 Johannes saw some daily papers lying in the hall of Count- 
 tess Dolores' house. Against the advice of Professor von 
 Pennewitz, he began running them through. His eyes re- 
 mained glued to the page, for he saw there a communication 
 from Germany, to the effect that the miners' strike had ended. 
 The laborers had lost the battle. 
 
 The sleepless night that ensued seemed very long to him. 
 Poor Helene, also, was restless, and wailed and wailed with- 
 out pause.
 
 VII 
 
 Be brave now, for my story is going to he truly sombre and 
 shuddery. Truth can sometimes appear very hhick; hut if 
 we only dare to look her straight in the eye, she smiles, in the 
 end, brightly and blithely. 
 
 Only those who are afraid of her, and turn halfway back, 
 will be caught and held fast in the meshes of gloom and 
 misery. 
 
 You have, doubtless, known all along that there was some- 
 thing utterly amiss in Johannes' fine, new life — that he had 
 made a pitiful mistake, and was all at sea. He, also, knew 
 it now, although he would not admit it to himself. Those 
 joyful expectations had not been prompted by the Father's 
 voice, and he knew now that one could be misled by positive 
 impressions. 
 
 However, he was not yet out of the scrape. To acknowl- 
 edge again that he had made a mistake — to leave this life 
 and return to Markus and Marjon, was a hard thing to do. 
 Here were far greater attractions than Aunt Serena's rasp- 
 berries and fresh rolls. When he thought of the garden at 
 Vrede-best, ah, how eagerly he longed to be there again! But 
 that which held him here had a much stronger hold upon 
 him, for he would not admit to himself that it would be better 
 to leave it. That he should be an intimate little friend of 
 this beautiful, distinguished woman — that^ above all things — 
 preoccupied him day and night. 
 
 Did you ever, late at night, when you ought to have been 
 in bed, read a very captivating book ? You knew then, did 
 you not, that it was not good for you — that you would be 
 sorry for it ^. Perhaps you even found the book to be dull or 
 base. And yet you could not break off, but read on and on, 
 just one more chapter, to see how it ended. 
 
 34i
 
 THEQUEST 343 
 
 That was the way with Johannes, in the pretty villa of 
 Countess Dolores. 
 
 He stayed on, week after week, month after month, writing 
 nothing to Holland, nor to Aunt Serena — nothing to his 
 Brother, nor to Marjon, either because of he knew not what, 
 or because he was ashamed. 
 
 One thought alone prevailed over all others; what would 
 she say when he should have another talk with Countess 
 Dolores, and what should he reply ? Would she stroke his 
 hair, or even press a kiss upon it, as once she had done — 
 the same as with her two little daughters ? 
 
 Perhaps you have never yet been in love. If you never 
 have, you cannot know what all this means. But it is not a 
 slight matter, and there is nothing in it to rail about. 
 
 Johannes himself did not quite know what had happened. 
 He only felt that never yet in his life had anything so perplex- 
 ing and distressing come to him. 
 
 It was so wonderful, too. It gave him pain — sharp pain 
 — and yet it was sweet to him, and he welcomed it. It caused 
 him anguish and anxiety, and yet he would not run away from 
 it. It was so contradictory — so confounding! 
 
 One sultry, stormy evening he took a lonely walk over the 
 cliffs, and followed a narrow path lying close to the grey 
 steeps at the foot of which the breakers were pounding. 
 
 He saw the sun go down behind great masses of clouds, 
 just as he had formerly done. But now how different it was! 
 How cold and strange it seemed! He felt left out. Life — ■ 
 cruel, human life — with its passions and entanglements, 
 now had him in its grasp. 
 
 It seemed agonizing and frightful, as if a great monster had 
 pursued him to the shore of the sea, and were still close behind. 
 And now Nature had become strange and inhospitable. 
 
 He stretched out his hand, and cried to the clouds: 
 
 "Oh, help me, clouds with the silver lining!" But the 
 clouds rolled on as if wholly unconscious of the wonderful 
 shapes they assumed at every turn — ever changing, and
 
 344 THEOUEST 
 
 adorned anew with glittering gold and gleaming silver. And 
 all the while the sea was roaring just as if it had no memory 
 whatever of Johannes. 
 
 And when he had cried "Help me, clouds with the silver 
 lining!" the words clung to his mind, and, like shining angels, 
 they beckoned other, sister words, still lingering in the depths 
 of his soul, to come and join them. And so the)' came — one 
 after another, in twinkling file, and fell into line. Their faces 
 seemed more serious than did ever those of his own words. 
 
 "Help, oh, help me, ye silver-lined clouds! 
 
 Oh, save me, sun and stormy sea! 
 
 To thee I fly from stifling haunts of men. 
 
 L'tfe^ with its frightful, crimson-flaming hands, 
 
 Has laid its hold on me. 
 
 Once I was thy friend and confidant — 
 
 At home in thy mysterious loneliness. 
 
 I explored without fear thy boundless space 
 
 And celestial mansions buildcd I there 
 
 With the mere light of stars, and the waves of wind. 
 
 Peace I found in thy grandeur stern, 
 
 And rest in thy bright expanse. 
 
 Now, life sweeps me on with its current swift, 
 
 And a seething volcano I find where erst 
 
 Was an ocean serene of exalted delights. 
 
 Alas! thou doest rest in thy splendor immersed — 
 
 As cool as a lion licking his paws. 
 
 All slowly the cloud is transformed, 
 
 Letting the light stream through, 
 
 And the tossing main with sparks is clad, 
 
 As if with a golden coat of mail. 
 
 Ah, beautiful world! Untrue and unreal 
 
 Thou glidest away 'neath mv anguished eyes. 
 
 The ocean roars ever, and silent are sun and clouds. 
 
 Sadly, I see the strange daylight fail. 
 
 It leaves mc alone vsith still stranger night.
 
 THEQUEST 345 
 
 Oh! may I yet find there my Father's spirit, 
 That dwells beyond sun and sea and clouds ? 
 Must I join with the hapless, hopeless throng 
 And bind my sorrowful fate to theirs, 
 Until the Great Leveler bring surcease?" 
 
 What Johannes meant by the "Great Leveler" he did not 
 himself know at first. Neither did he at all realize that he 
 had composed something better than formerly. But in the 
 night he understood that it was Death he had meant. And 
 he knew, also, that something within him had opened to the 
 light, like an unfolding flower. 
 
 He felt that the verses might be sung like a song, but he 
 could not hear the melody — or but faintly — like wind- 
 wafted tones from the farthest distance. At night, he heard 
 in his dreams the full strain, but in the morning he had en- 
 tirely forgotten it. And Marjon was not there to help him. 
 
 You must remember that Little Johannes was no longer 
 so very little. Nearly four years had passed since that morn- 
 ing when he had waked up in the dunes, with the little gold 
 key. 
 
 He could not refrain from reading the poem to the countess 
 on the following day. The making of it — the writing and 
 rewriting — had calmed the unrest out of which it had come. 
 He was curious, now, to learn what others would say of it — 
 above all, the one who was ever in his thoughts. 
 
 "Ah, yes!" said she, after he had read it aloud, "life is 
 fearful! And that 'surcease' is all that I long for. I fully 
 agree with you." 
 
 This remark, however kind the intention of the speaker, 
 gave Johannes, to his own astonishment, small pleasure. He 
 would have preferred to hear something different. 
 
 "Do you think it good?" he asked, with a vague feeling 
 that he really ought not to ask the question, because he had been 
 so very much in earnest over the verses. And when one is 
 deeply in earnest about anything one does not ask if it is good ;
 
 346 T H E O U E S T 
 
 no more than he would ask if he had wept beautifully. But yet 
 he would have liked, so well, to know what she thought. 
 
 "I do not know, Johannes. You must not hope for a crit- 
 icism from me. I think the idea very sympathetic, and the 
 form seems to me also quite poetic. But whether or not it is 
 good poetry, you must ask of Mijnheer van Lieverlee. He 
 is a poet." 
 
 "Is Mijnheer van Lieverlee coming soon ?" 
 
 "Yes; I expect him shortly." 
 
 One fine day Van Lieverlee put in an appearance. With 
 him arrived a host of merrily creaking, yellow trunks, smelling 
 delightfully like russia leather — ditto high-hat box, and a 
 brisk, smooth-shaven, traveling-servant. 
 
 Van Lieverlee wore in his button-hole a dark-red rose, and 
 pointed pale-green carnation leaves. 
 
 He was very much at his ease — contented and gay — and 
 when he saw Johannes he did not appear to have a very clear 
 remembrance of him. 
 
 That evening Johannes read to him the poem. Van Liev- 
 erlee listened, with an absent-minded expression of face, while 
 he drummed on the arm of the low, easy-chair in which he 
 lay indolently outstretched. It looked very much as if the 
 verses bored him. 
 
 When it was over, and Johannes was waiting in painful 
 suspense, he shook his head emphatically. 
 
 "All rhetoric, my worthy friend — mere bombast! 'Oh! 
 Alas!' and *Ah!' All those are impotent cryings which show 
 that the business is beyond you. If you had full control of 
 expression, you would not utter such cries — you would form, 
 shape, knead, create, model — tnoJel! Plasticity, Johannes! 
 That is the thing — vision, color, imagery! I see nothing in 
 that poem. I want something to see and taste. Just think of 
 that sonnet of mine! Every line full of form, of imagery, of 
 real, actual things! With you, there is nothing but vague 
 terms — weak swaggering — all about the spirit of your 
 Father, and such things — none of them to be seen. And, to
 
 THE QUEST 347 
 
 produce effect, you call upon the other words: 'Ah!' and 
 'Alas!' and 'Oh!' as if that helped, at all. Any cad could do 
 that if he fell into the water. That is not poetry." 
 
 Johannes was completely routed. And although his hostess 
 tried to console him with assurances that if he did his best 
 things would go better with him by and by, when he was a 
 little older, it was of no avail. Johannes already knew that 
 it was quite in vain for him to attempt his best, so long as the 
 inspiration he so much needed was withheld. 
 
 His night was a sad one; for the serious words of the poem 
 were continually before him, and to think that they had been 
 disdained was indeed torture. They would not be driven 
 away, but remained to vindicate their worth. And then he 
 wished that others, as well as he, should value them. But 
 his powerlessness and his own mistrust, were a grievous 
 vexation. 
 
 In the small hours, he had just fallen asleep — probably 
 for only a few minutes — when he awoke again with the feel- 
 ing that his room was full, but with what kind of company 
 — human beings or other creatures — he could not tell. He 
 did not see them; for just in the place where he was looking 
 there was no one, and where he wanted to look, he could not. 
 He seemed to be prevented from doing so by a strange power. 
 
 He heard a laugh, and the sound was very familiar to him. 
 It was a dismal, old-time memory. It was Pluizer's laugh. 
 
 Could Pluizer be in the room ? 
 
 Johannes tried his best to look at the spot whence the sound 
 came. Exerting himself, he saw something at last — not an 
 entire figure, but hands only — two, four, six little hands, 
 busily doing something. Higher up, to what was above the 
 hands, he could not look — but that they were the hands of 
 Pluizer he was quite positive. 
 
 There was something in those hands — a white band — and 
 the little hands were very busy tying all kinds of knots in it. 
 And all the while there was continuous laughing and snicker- 
 ing, as if it was great fun.
 
 348 THEQUEST 
 
 What could that mean ? Johannes felt that something 
 menaced. The play of those little hands portended danger. 
 Most plainly of all he saw the white band — a common, white 
 tape. 
 
 Then the hands went out of the room, and Johannes was 
 forced to follow them. In another room — that of Helene's 
 nurse — there they were, as busy as ever, this time with a pair 
 of scissors. The scissors had fallen upon the floor close to a 
 toilet-table. One point having stuck through the carpet into 
 the floor, there they stood — erect. The invisible one was 
 laughing again — giggling and snickering — and all six little 
 hands were pointing at the scissors. 
 
 A light was burning in Helene's room, but the poor, sick 
 girl was not now complaining. All was quiet there. The 
 door opened, and the nurse came out, leaving it open behind 
 her. The nurse went to her own room to look for something. 
 She was a long time searching, but could not find it. Surely 
 it was the scissors. 
 
 All this time they were sticking by one point, in the carpet 
 behind the toilet-table, and the six little hands were pointing 
 at them. But the seeker apparently neither saw the hands 
 nor heard the laughter. 
 
 Johannes could not help her. He had to follow the hands. 
 He still heard giggling and snickering, and saw the little hands 
 go away — downstairs, through the hall, outside. 
 
 Save for the shining of the stars — sharp and clear in the 
 black sky — it was still very dark out-of-doors. 
 
 On the terrace, there was visible to Johannes, a tall, dark 
 figure. He could look at it better than at the sneering ones. 
 He recognized it, instantly. It was He with whom he had 
 traveled by sea. 
 
 The dark figure now took the lead with slow, firm strides. 
 Pluizer went next, but in between these two there was a third. 
 
 It was quite impossible fi)r Johannes to look at that third 
 one. When he tried to look, he felt an indescribaiije agony. 
 
 That third one! Yes, he certainly knew it well. It was//.'
 
 THEQUEST 349 
 
 Do you understand ? The It which lies in wait around the 
 corner, outside the door, while you dream of being alone in a 
 dark room, vainly trying to call for help. 
 
 //, the most frightful object! — so frightful that no one can 
 either look at or describe it. 
 
 These three now passed down the dark avenue of the park 
 until they came to the black pool lying deathly still and 
 calmly expectant — shining beneath the starlight. 
 
 There the three sat down and waited. 
 
 It was still as still could be. Not a leaf rustled. 
 
 The star-tips on the water were as sharply defined as points 
 of light upon fathomless darkness. 
 
 "Prettily planned; don't you think so?" said Pluizer. 
 
 It grumbled, sneeringly. 
 
 Thereupon good Death, in a soft, restful voice, said: 
 
 "Yet all is for the best!" 
 
 Then again they sat very still. Johannes waited with them 
 for he could not do otherwise. 
 
 The sound of a door was heard in the still night air, and a 
 white figure drew near, with light, swift steps. By the faint 
 starlight Johannes saw the slender girl in a white nightdress, 
 her black hair flowing loose. 
 
 For an instant she stood still at the edge of the pool. Jo- 
 hannes could see her eyes shining with both terror and joy, 
 like those of one pursued who sees escape. He tried to call 
 or to move, but could do neither. 
 
 Then the girl waded into the water with her arms extended 
 as if to embrace it. She went cautiously, so that the water 
 neither plashed nor spattered; only, the star-points were 
 broken up and became long stripes, and serpentine lines of 
 light. These, after the white garment could be seen no more, 
 still continued — dancing up and down with the ripples. 
 
 "We have her!" sneered Pluizer. 
 
 "That remains to be seen," said good Death. 
 
 At once, Johannes found himself awake, in his own bed.
 
 350 THEOUEST 
 
 He had been wakened by noises, cries of anguished voices, 
 hasty runnings hither and thither through the hallwa}'s of the 
 house, and by the opening and shutting of doors. 
 
 "Helene! Helene!" rang through the halls, in the garden, 
 in the park. "Hek'ne! Helene!" 
 
 Jonannes dressed himself, not overhastily, for he knew it 
 was too late. 
 
 The members of the household were already gathered in the 
 large vestibule. The poor nurse, with a startled face of 
 deathly pallor, came in from the garden. 
 
 "I cannot find her anywhere," she cried. "It is my fault 
 — my fault!" 
 
 She sat down and becan to sob. 
 
 "Come, dear," said the countess, in her tranquil voice, 
 "do not reproach yourself. She may be back again in no 
 time; or perhaps the servants will find her in the town." 
 
 "No, no," shrieked the poor nurse. "She has long wanted 
 to do it, and I knew it. I never left her door unfastened. 
 But this time I only thought to be gone two seconds. She 
 had knotted a tape into a tangle, and I wanted to get my scis- 
 sors. But I could not find them . . . and then . . . O 
 God! How could I be so stupid! I can never forgive my- 
 self. Oh, my God, my God!" 
 
 Could not Johannes have run quickly to the pool, and told 
 what he knew ? No, for he also knew, quite as surely, that 
 it was too late. And before he could have done it, the men 
 came to say she had been found. He saw her borne into the 
 house, wrapped in a checked bed-cover. 
 
 And when he saw them making vain endeavors to resus- 
 citate her he remarked that he feared it would do no good. 
 And he added, "Indeed, I don't fear — but I hope so." 
 
 "For her sake," said the countess. 
 
 "Surely for her sake," repeated Johannes, in some surprise. 
 
 Van Lieverlee had not appeared. But when the corpse of 
 the beautiful girl had been placed upon her death-bed, her
 
 THE QUEST 
 
 351 
 
 slender hands crossed upon her breast, her hair — still moist 
 — laid in heavy braids about the delicate, sallow little face, 
 the dark lashes nearly closed over the sightless eyes, white 
 lilies and snowdrops all around, then Van Lieverlee came to 
 see. 
 
 "Look," said he to Johannes, "this is very pretty. I 
 would not have cared to see her taken from the water. A 
 drowned person is nearly always an ugly spectacle. Even 
 the most beautiful girl becomes repulsive and clownlike when 
 being dragged out of the water by leg or arm, with face and 
 hair all duck-weed and mud. But this is worth while. Mind, 
 Johannes, genuine artists are always lucky. They come 
 across the beautiful, everywhere. Such an event as this is, 
 for a poet, a rare bit of good luck." 
 
 The next day he was deep in the making of poetry. But 
 Johannes was in a restless, introverted mood, and could find 
 no words for what distressed him.
 
 VIII 
 
 A FEW days later, the two guests were sitting with their 
 hostess at the afternoon-tea table. 
 
 "Is it not a frightful thought," said Countess Dolores, 
 "that the poor girl cannot yet have rest, but must do 
 penance for her sinful deed?" 
 
 "I cannot believe it," said Johannes. 
 
 "But yet it was a sin." 
 
 "I would certainly forgive her." 
 
 "By which we perceive, Dolores," broke in Van Lieverlee, 
 "that Johannes is much more kind-hearted than his beloved 
 Lord." 
 
 "But why, Johannes, can you not assure us about that 
 of which I have so often asked?" said the countess again. 
 "Can you not put yourself into communication with 
 her?" 
 
 "No, Mevrouw," replied Johannes. 
 
 " But your Mahatma, Johannes!" said Van Lieverlee. "He 
 can do it all right. It is child's play for him." 
 
 "Of whom are you speaking?" asked the hostess, looking 
 with quickened interest at Van Lieverlee. 
 
 "Of his Mahatma. Has he never told you about his 
 Mahatma?" 
 
 "Not a word," said the countess, a little pettishly, while 
 Johannes maintained a mortified silence. 
 
 "Well, Johannes knows a sage — a Yogi — a great Magi- 
 cian. He saw him come ashore from over the North Sea — 
 which phenomenon might be termed levitation — and this 
 Magician traveled with him in disguise." 
 
 " But, Johannes, why have you never told me that ? It was 
 not kind of you. You knew how much I have longed for the 
 advice of such a person." 
 
 Johannes knew very little to tell. That question exactly 
 
 352
 
 THE QUEST 353 
 
 concerned what was most perplexing and distressing to him 
 in this situation. 
 
 Something there was that always restrained him from speak- 
 ing of Markus — yes, even the thought of him was baffling. 
 And yet how much he longed for him! But he felt that that 
 longing was opposed to the other longings which held him 
 where he was. 
 
 "I believe," he said at last, timidly, "that he does not like 
 it when I talk about him." 
 
 "Of course," said Van Lieverlee, "but only in the case of 
 the uninitiated — the common herd." 
 
 "Do you count me in with them V asked his hostess in her 
 most engaging manner. 
 
 "No, do!" protested Johannes, with great earnestness. 
 ^'But neither do I know where he is." 
 
 "He well knows, however, where zue are," said Van Liever- 
 lee, "and if we desire to see him, he will come to us." 
 
 "He surely will not come here," said Johannes. 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 Johannes could not explain why, but the countess said: 
 
 "Then we will go to Holland and have him come to our 
 club." 
 
 That gave Johannes a thrill of joy. But ah! he realized 
 at the same time how cold and unresponsive he had become 
 to the beautiful which had brought him thither. The two 
 children were indeed just as captivating, but they did not 
 give him the same happiness as before. And he began grad- 
 ually to dislike Van Lieverlee. 
 
 In Holland, Countess Dolores dwelt in a villa between a 
 large town and the ocean. And when Johannes was there 
 again, and, though knowing better, was expecting to re-see 
 his beloved dunes, then, for the first time, he felt convinced 
 that Pan was indeed dead, and Windekind's kingdom at 
 an end. 
 
 Civilization had conquered the dunes. Long, straight,
 
 354 THE QUEST 
 
 barren streets led out to them, and house after house, all ex- 
 actly alike — as tedious as they were ugly — lined the com- 
 fortless way. Sand drifted through the dreary, brick-paved 
 streets, and shavings, bits of tin, and great pieces of tattered 
 wall-paper were strewn about the intervening spaces. Build- 
 int^s were being put up everywhere. Of the beauty and 
 mystery of the dunes there was nothing left — only dismal, 
 dust-littered heaps of sand. 
 
 The ocean also was spoiled for Johannes, for here there were 
 great crowds of people, come for the sake of society, or else 
 for the music. And even when they w^ere gone there still re- 
 mained the ugly buildings they had erected. 
 
 Countess Dolores seemed indeed to share Johannes' aver- 
 sion and disappointment. Not so Van Lieverlee. Here he 
 was in his element — dressing himself most gorgeously, mak- 
 ing visits, and attending the principal clubs, restaurants, and 
 concerts. 
 
 "Romance is dead, my friend," said he. "You must have 
 life — Life with a capital letter. Life is Passion. Art is 
 Passion. Life is Art — rude, real life — one day gloriously 
 luxurious, the next day coarse and loathsome. You must 
 not dream of the past, Johannes, but live in the present. And 
 you must experience everything, take a part in and enjoy 
 everything, and despise everything. You must lead lite by the 
 nose — ■ seize it by the throat and force it to do your bidding. 
 Get tipsy with life — spew it out of your mouth — strike it flat 
 to earth — sling it at the clouds — play upon it as upon a violin 
 — stick it in your buttonhole, like a gardenia — roll with it 
 in the gutter, and consort with it in orgies of supremest pas- 
 sion. Study it in its hideous nakedness and vilcness, and 
 subjugate it to your dearest dreams of blood and gold." 
 
 This oration was delivered in the evening after Van Liever- 
 lee had dined with his friends. Later, Johannes observed 
 that Van Lieverlee liked best to study the hideous phases 
 i)f life from a safe distance, and to choose for himself the 
 easy and pleasant ones.
 
 THE QUEST 355 
 
 Visitors from very respectable circles came to Dolores' villa ; 
 and already, at the receptions preceding the seances of the 
 Pleiades, Johannes had met the members of that " ideal com- 
 munity of ideals in common." 
 
 There were, of course, besides the countess and Van Liever- 
 lee, only five others; and when Johannes hesitated to add to 
 this number of seven, he was assured that the Constellation 
 was composed of eight visible stars, besides a great many 
 others not visible to the naked eye. 
 
 The leader was a General with a gold-embroidered collar 
 and a grey, closely-cut beard. He had a powerful, command- 
 ing voice, and spoke with great respect of the present dynasty. 
 Johannes wondered that he could think of anything other 
 than cannon and battles; but it appeared that he had a very 
 gentle heart, and was extraordinarily curious concerning the 
 immaterial and the life on the other side of the grave. 
 
 He even seemed to be conscious that his blood-thirsty trade 
 did not tally with his philosophical researches, and therefore 
 preferred that no one should know he belonged to this ideal 
 community — a weakness common to all the members of the 
 Pleiades. 
 
 Then there were a senator and his wife — both of them very 
 courtly and fashionable persons. The husband had exqui- 
 sitely cut grey hair, and a handsome white beard, small hands, 
 and thin legs. The wife, who was an invalid, had a languish- 
 ing voice, a discontented face, and a manner that became 
 earnest and excited as soon as things were mentioned of high- 
 est import to the society. 
 
 Then there was Professor Bommeldoos — an impressive 
 man, who certainly would have been chosen as leader had it 
 not been known that at heart he scorned and condemned such 
 researches. He took part only at the urgent request of the 
 countess, to whose beauty he was not insensible, for as a repre- 
 sentative of pure science she desired him to be present. Pro- 
 fessor Bommeldoos was awfully learned — his Greek was as 
 fluent as water, and he had, so to speak, every conceivable
 
 356 THEQUEST 
 
 system of philosophy under his thumb. He was so much 
 taken up with himself that he paid no attention to any reply 
 he might have received to his discourse. He thought only of 
 his own words, and if he did not receive instant assent, or if 
 some one, with a bow, wished to differ from him, he turned 
 himself about, and declared the hearer to be an ignoramus. 
 
 These bad manners, however, were the exception among 
 the well-bred Pleiades; but they were endured as being a 
 necessary attribute of his great erudition. 
 
 The seventh, and last, was an Honorable Lady, no longer 
 young. She was of noble birth, fat, unattractive, and as 
 ignorant as Professor Bommeldoos was learned. Every one 
 of her observations was crushed by him, with cold disdain, 
 under some obscure quotation or other. Whereupon the 
 Honorable Lady, smiling insipidly, became silent, but with a 
 face which seemed to say that she was by no means cbn- 
 vinced. 
 
 Johannes waited in great suspense for the first seance, above 
 all because of the possibility that Markus would perceive his 
 longings, and, as Van Lieverlee surmised, suddenly appear. 
 
 The members of the society gathered just as if they had no 
 other thought than to make a casual evening visit. The 
 Privy Counselor, who bore a threefold name, and whom 
 therefore I shall call simply the Privy Counselor, chatted with 
 the fat Honorable Lady about the climate on the Riviera, along 
 which he had been traveling with his wife, for her health's 
 sake, and whence he had brought her back home more ill than 
 when she left. The General chatted on about the early shell- 
 peas, while Van Lieverlee talked softly in French to the 
 countess, to the silent distraction of Johannes. No one ap- 
 peared to care to know the object of their meeting. 
 
 But this dissimulation was rudely shaken by Professor 
 Bommeldoos, who, having scarcely entered, burst out in his 
 frightful voice: 
 
 "Come, followers of Allan Kardec! Where is the keeper 
 of the door — he who shall unlock for us that portal through
 
 THEQUEST 357 
 
 which we may step from the kingdom of the three dimensions 
 into that of the fourth dimension ?" 
 
 Thereupon he looked searchingly into the faces of those 
 present. They smiled in a rather embarrassed way, and 
 glanced at the General. After a good, thorough clearing of 
 his throat, the General said: 
 
 "If you refer to our medium, Professor, there is none yet; 
 but we should — ah . . . can — ah . . . begin to form 
 the circle, in order to prepare ourselves, in some degree, 
 for . . ." 
 
 During oppressive silence, a round, marble-topped table 
 was drawn by the gentlemen into the middle of the room. 
 The assistance of the servants was not desired. 
 
 "Look! See what a crack was made in it the other time," 
 whispered the Honorable Lady, "when it rose completely up 
 into the air, you know. We could not possibly hold it down." 
 
 "Ought not the light to be put out?" asked the Professor, 
 who had not yet attended a seance. 
 
 "No, no," said the General. "A little lower — just a 
 little lower." 
 
 "Very well! H'm — h'm!" muttered Bommeldoos. 
 
 "The Professor must not counteract with his irony," said 
 the countess, pleasantly. 
 
 "Mevrouw," declaimed the Professor, solemnly, "in the 
 researches of a philosopher nothing is trifling, nothing is 
 ridiculous. He stands for all phenomena like an unbroken 
 mirror. Darwin had the contrabass played to an audience 
 of sprouting garden-beans, in order to observe the effect of 
 music on vegetation. And if you have read my book about 
 Plotinus ..." 
 
 "Pardon, Professor, I have not." 
 
 "What! Then the one about the material basis of ideas ?" 
 
 "Nor that." 
 
 "Then you certainly must read my book upon Magic. Do 
 not forget it, or I will not come the next time. Plotinus 
 says ..."
 
 358 THEOUEST 
 
 Mere followed a quotation in Greek that I will spare you, 
 but which was listened to with respect. Then the Honorable 
 Lady chimed in with: 
 
 "Shall we not sing something? It puts one in such a good 
 frame of mind." 
 
 They all agreed with her, but no one wanted to begin. The 
 General seated himself mettlesomely at the table, and spread 
 out his hands on the top of it. 
 
 With simulated unconcern, one after another followed him. 
 At last, Johannes also was invited to take part. 
 
 "Is the young gentleman a novice in psychical fields ?" asked 
 the Privy Counselor, condescendingly. 
 
 "My friend Johannes ought to have strong mediumistic 
 powers. I hope that those present will not object ..." 
 said the countess. 
 
 "Not at all, not at all," said the General. "In this re- 
 search we are all as ignorant as children." 
 
 "I do not in the least agree with you, there. General," 
 blustered Bommeldoos. "Have you read all the writings of 
 Phillipus Aureolus Paracelsus Theophrastus Bombastus ab 
 Hohenheim, born in 1493, died in 1541 ?" 
 
 "I have not. Professor," replied the warrior, meekly. 
 
 "Well, I have, and it was not child's work. Magic is a 
 subdivision — and only a small subdivision — of philosophy. 
 In my library I have a hundred and seventy-five volumes, all 
 that subdivision — all of them on magical subjects, from 
 Apollonius Tyannaeus to Swedenborg, Hellenbach, and Du 
 Prell. Do you call that childish ignorance?" 
 
 "'Suffer the little children to come unto me,' " said the fat 
 Honorable Lady, improving the opportunity to make a quo- 
 tation, also. 
 
 "I am not going to drive them away," said Bommeldoos, 
 "if only they do not imagine they know as much as I do." 
 
 Johannes did not at all imagine that, and, hands upon the 
 marble top of the table, he waited very patiently for the mani- 
 festations.
 
 THEQUEST 359 
 
 They sat a considerable time, however, without anything 
 unusual having happened. Van Lieverlee said to the coun- 
 tess, softly yet quite distinctly: "Neither are those magical 
 powers of Johannes very unusual." 
 
 Then came the medium — a demure young woman of the 
 middle class, who made deep courtesies to right and left, and 
 appeared not to feel quite at home in this dignified society. 
 
 She had scarcely seated herself at the table, before the wife 
 of the Privy Counselor cried out in a shrill voice: "I feel it 
 already. There it goes!" 
 
 "Yes, a genuine shock," declared the Honorable Lady, in 
 an excited tone. 
 
 "Be calm," commanded the General. 
 
 The table began turning and tilting, and now the questions 
 were plied. The first spirit to put in an appearance gave 
 general advice about reading the Bible, and about faithful 
 attendance at church. This advice seemed to make a deep 
 impression on the circle. Asked his name, the spirit replied, 
 "Moses." This gave Professor Bommeldoos the opportunity 
 to inquire if Moses himself had written the Pentateuch. 
 "Yes," was the reply. But when the Professor queried him in 
 Hebrew, Moses said that the medium needed a brief rest; 
 and after that rest he left it to some one else to make reply. 
 In succession followed Homer and Cicero, who both lamented 
 that they had not known the true faith; and after them Napo- 
 leon, who evinced great sorrow for the amount of blood he 
 had caused to be shed. One could see that this gave the Gen- 
 eral food for reflection. 
 
 But, save that all these people urged, in the main, the prac- 
 tice of purity and piety, it was unanimously demonstrated 
 that Johannes and the countess were the ones from whose 
 co-operation the greatest results were to be expected. They 
 would have to study up these matters, and apply themselves 
 to automatic writing. 
 
 Then Johannes had to sit beside the countess and hold her 
 hand, and thus, together, write down the communications of
 
 360 THEQUEST 
 
 the spirits. This was a hitter-sweet experience for Johannes. 
 Would Markus come now ^ 
 
 But Markus did not come, nor any news of poor Helene, 
 nor of her father. 
 
 Yet a spirit disclosed itseU' who treated this ideal society in 
 a very impolite, bearish manner. He called himself Thomas, 
 and would not reply when Bommeldoos asked him if he was 
 Thomas the Apostle, or Thomas Aquinas, or Thomas a 
 Kempis, or Thomas Morus. 
 
 "Do you know us ?" asked the Privy Counselor. 
 
 "Yes, you are heathen and malefactors." 
 
 "Will you help us ?" 
 
 "Confess, pray, and do penance," said Thomas. 
 
 "Will you tell us something of the hereafter .f'" asked 
 Countess Dolores, paling somewhat. 
 
 "Hell, if you go on this way," said Thomas. 
 
 "Then what must I do ?" asked Dolores, almost trembling. 
 
 "Be converted," was the reply. 
 
 "That is all well and good," said Bommeldoos, "but I 
 know at least twelve religions, and twice as many systems of 
 philosophy. To which of them must we be converted ?" 
 
 "Be still, you heretic," was the parting shot. 
 
 Such treatment as that was a bit too much for the learned 
 Professor, and he declared he had had enough of it, and could 
 better employ his time. 
 
 The society was of one mind — that the manifestations this 
 evening had not been propitious. The medium ascribed this 
 to her own indisposition. She had suffered the entire day 
 with a headache, and, moreover, there were — she was cer- 
 tain of it — unfavorable influences present. Saying this, she 
 cast a reproachful glance at the Professor. 
 
 "Oh, it was much more lively the last time," said the Hon- 
 orable Lady. "Was it not truly extraordinary. General?" 
 
 "Phenomena cannot be forced," replied the General. 
 "One has to practise patience. We would better stop, for 
 the present."
 
 THEQUEST 361 
 
 So the session ended, and after the medium, with many 
 obsequious airs, had taken her leave, they partook of a deli- 
 cious supper. 
 
 Johannes retained his place beside the hostess, and the 
 remembrance of the soft, warm hand that he had been able 
 to hold in his own for so long a time made him very happy. 
 He was not disappointed. Oh, no, he was elated — his 
 excellent friend was so nice, so good, and so kind to 
 him. 
 
 A new Dutch waitress in black and wearing a snow-white 
 cap with long strings was in attendance. Johannes paid no 
 attention to her, but noticed that Van Lieverlee looked at her 
 repeatedly. 
 
 "Did you not think it a remarkable evening.?" asked the 
 countess, after the guests were gone and they were alone 
 together. 
 
 "I thought it splendid," replied Johannes, with sincerity. 
 
 "They called it a failure," said the countess, "but it im- 
 pressed me quite otherwise. I feel greatly moved." 
 
 "I too," said Johannes. 
 
 "Do you? That makes me happy. So you, also, feel 
 that we need to be converted ?" 
 
 "I do not think that," said Johannes, "but you have been 
 so good to me." 
 
 Countess Dolores made no reply, but she smiled and pressed 
 his hand kindly. Johannes retained her hand, while he 
 looked into her eyes with passionate devotion. 
 
 The waitress had been standing at the buffet, placing silver 
 in the drawer. At this moment she turned round, and when 
 Johannes in some confusion looked at her to see if she had 
 paid any attention to his all-too-tender airs and words, he sud- 
 denly found himself gazing into a pair of well-known, light- 
 grey eyes. 
 
 They were Marjon's eyes, and they wore a look of unutter- 
 able anguish and sorrow. 
 
 It seemed to Johannes as if his heart had stopped
 
 362 THEQUEST 
 
 beating. He sat like one paralyzed, until his friend's hand 
 slipped from his clasp. He appeared to wish to rise — to say 
 something . . . 
 
 But Marjon put her finger to her lips, and went quietly on 
 with her work.
 
 IX 
 
 Among the visitors at Villa Dolores was a Roman prelate — a 
 friend of Dolores' deceased husband. He was heavy of build 
 and always cheerful, and never talked on religious subjects. 
 Sometimes he came sociably, as a table guest, and besides a 
 fund of anecdotes he also had much to say that was in- 
 structive, to which Johannes listened eagerly. 
 
 He was a far more amiable person than Dominie Kraal- 
 boom, and Johannes liked him much better. He understood 
 all about flowers and animals, about poetry, paintings, and 
 music; and of special interest were his observations on beau- 
 tiful Italy and holy Rome, where he had traveled and 
 studied. 
 
 Of course he did not belong to the Pleiades; and if by 
 rare exception the circle was referred to in his presence, he, 
 being both cautious and courteous, remained silent. 
 
 Yet, after that first meeting of which I have told you in the 
 preceding chapter, Johannes observed that he came oftener 
 than before, and also at unconventional hours; and when 
 Johannes came into the room he noticed that the conversation 
 between the countess and the priest was suddenly broken off. 
 He saw, also, that his hostess had more color in her cheeks, 
 as if she had been speaking of weighty matters. 
 
 "Your Mahatma does not come," said Dolores once, when, 
 after such a time as this, the priest had just taken his leave. 
 "He has turned his back upon us." 
 
 "Yes, Mevrouw," Johannes was forced to admit. 
 
 " I think myself very fortunate in having found a wise man 
 who can help me." 
 
 "Do you mean Father Canisius ?" 
 
 "Yes. Do you know what he says? That we are on a 
 dangerous road in the pursuit of our object. It is all the 
 work of the devil, he declares. And everything he says agrees 
 
 363
 
 364 THEQUEST 
 
 with what we heard that evening. Would you not Hke to 
 have a chat with him ?" 
 
 But Johannes hesitated. He had not yet spoken to Marjon, 
 and was hoping to hear from her something concerning his 
 brother. 
 
 Marjon evaded him, and he had not found an opportunity 
 to meet her alone. Every morning he went to his room with 
 a beating heart, hoping to find her there busied in putting it 
 to rights; but generally it was already in order, and he found 
 merely the traces of her care: his clothing brushed and folded, 
 his Hnen looked over and nicely placed in the linen-press, and 
 fresh flowers in the little vase on his table. He observed 
 everything, and was deeply touched by it. 
 
 But she seemed careful to be always in company with the 
 other servants, and to bear herself as stiffly and coldly as the 
 most pert, demure, and well-trained chambermaid possibly 
 could. Not a word nor a look nor a sign betrayed her 
 acquaintance with Johannes; and he often heard the countess 
 declare to her visitors that she had never before found so 
 quickly a good Dutch servant. 
 
 Neither had Van Lieverlee recognized her, but was simply 
 struck with her peculiar, somewhat alien manner, which led 
 him to ask the lady of the house if she knew the origin of the 
 girl. 
 
 "No," said the countess; "she was recommended to me by 
 an old friend, and apparently she deserves all that was said 
 of her." 
 
 But Johannes' yearning for Markus grew stronger every 
 day. He both dreaded and longed for his coming, and he 
 wished that in some way he might be delivered from his un- 
 certainty. 
 
 Therefore he was ever on the alert to seize an opportunity 
 for speaking with Marjon alone. One evening he detained 
 her in the hall under the pretense of inquiring about his 
 shoes.
 
 THEQUEST 365 
 
 "Where did you leave Keesje ?" he asked in a low voice. 
 
 "You know very well," replied Marjon, curtly, and in the 
 same low tone. 
 
 Johannes did indeed know, and for that very reason he 
 had asked the question. 
 
 "Yes, but where is he who has Keesje?" 
 
 "I do not know; and even if I did, I would not tell you. 
 He knows his time." 
 
 At that moment Countess Dolores passed by. 
 
 "Johannes," said she, "I am having a talk with Father 
 Canisius. If you wish you may come, too." 
 
 Johannes questioned Marjon with a look; but there fell 
 before her eyes that impenetrable veil which always completely 
 hid her inmost self from every stranger. 
 
 Father Canisius was in the parlor, seated in a low chair. 
 His black soutane fitted tightly over his robust body, and his 
 heavy feet in their buckled shoes were planted wide apart. 
 He was polishing his spectacles with a handkerchief, and as 
 Johannes entered the room he put them quickly in place, and 
 turned his large eyes, full of interest, toward the door. 
 
 When Johannes came forward he took his hand in a kindly 
 way and drew him nearer. Johannes looked into the broad, 
 smooth-shaven face with its flat nose and sagacious eyes. 
 
 "Have you never had good guidance, my boy.? Without 
 it life is difficult and dangerous." 
 
 "I have indeed had good guidance, Mijnheer," said Johan- 
 nes, "but I have more than once preferred to go my own way; 
 and then I disregarded my guidance." 
 
 "But was it good guidance?" asked the priest. 
 
 "I had a good father; later, I found a dear, good friend. 
 But I left them both." 
 
 "Why did you do that ? Were you not satisfied with what 
 they taught you ? What was it that took you from them ?" 
 
 Johannes hesitated. 
 
 "Were they too strict ?" 
 
 Johannes shook his head.
 
 366 THEQUEST 
 
 "Then what was lacking that you found elsewhere but 
 not with them ?" 
 
 "I do not know, Mijnheer, what to call it. It is not pleas- 
 ure, for I am willing to endure much suffering. And yet 
 again it is the most glorious thing I know. I think it is what 
 is meant by 'the beautiful.'" 
 
 On saying this, he bethought himself that it was not merely 
 " the beautiful " for which he had left his father, and that 
 the emotion which had led him away from Markus, and 
 which he had felt for the two little girls, might indeed be 
 called love. 
 
 "Perhaps it is also called love," said he. 
 
 Father Canisius considered a moment, and throwing a 
 glance at the countess, he said: 
 
 "Then did you not find the love of that good father and the 
 good friend enough for you ?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, yes," said Johannes, with spirit. "But it was 
 from them I had learned that I ought to follow what seemed 
 to me, in all sincerity, the most beautiful, and to do what I 
 truly thought best." 
 
 The priest dropped Johannes' hand, and pressed his own 
 fleshy palms together, while he slowly and sorrowfully shook 
 his great head, gave a deep sigh, and continued to look at 
 Countess Dolores with a very serious face. 
 
 "Poor boy!" said he then. "Poor, poor boy!" 
 
 Then, lifting his head and looking Johannes straight in the 
 eyes, he said: "No, Johannes, they were not good guides. 
 I do not know them, and I shall not judge them, but I assure 
 you positively that with such teaching, such guidance, you 
 are bound to be lost unless granted extraordinary grace." 
 
 A long silence ensued. Johannes was touched, and even 
 startled. 
 
 "What do you mean ?" he finally stammered with trembling 
 lips. 
 
 "Listen, Johannes," said Countess Dolores. "Father Cani- 
 sius is very wise — a man of large experience in life."
 
 THEQUEST 367 
 
 "Do you believe in God, Johannes ?" asked the priest. 
 
 "I know that I have a Father who understands me," said 
 Johannes, slowly. 
 
 "Do you mean a heavenly Father? Very well; so far, so 
 good. But you must have observed also that there is an evil 
 one — Satan — who goes about deceiving us." 
 
 "Yes," said Johannes, promptly, thinking of his many 
 disappointments. "That is so. I have observed it." 
 
 "Well, then, Satan is always lying in wait for us, like a 
 wolf lurking near the sheep. One who trusts only in his own 
 powers and his own opinion is like a sheep that strays from 
 the fold. The wolf surely waits his opportunity, and, unless 
 God perform a miracle, that sheep is lost." 
 
 Johannes felt the fear strike to his heart, and he could not 
 speak. 
 
 "We first notice the approach of this wolf by a terrible sen- 
 sation. That is God's warning to us. That feeling is doubt. 
 Have you ever known what it was to doubt, Johannes ?" 
 
 Johannes, with clenched fists and compressed lips, nodded 
 in quick and utter dismay. Yes, yes, yes! He had known 
 what it was to doubt. 
 
 "I thought so," said Father Canisius, calmly. "It is a 
 fearful feeling, is it not?" Raising his voice, he proceeded: 
 "It is like the sound of howling wolves in the distance — to 
 the wandering sheep. Let it not be in vain that you are 
 warned, Johannes." 
 
 After a pause he continued: 
 
 "Doubt itself is a sin. He who doubts is on an inclined 
 plane that slopes toward a fall. Have you ever heard of 
 the hideous octopus, Johannes — that soft sea-monster with 
 the huge eyes, and eight long arms full of suckers which, one 
 by one, he winds around the limbs of a swimmer, before drag- 
 ging him down to the deeps ? You have ? Well, Satan is 
 such an octopus. Unnoticed, he reaches out his long arms, 
 and twines them about your limbs — holding them fast with 
 his suckers until he can stab his sharp beak into your heart.
 
 368 THEOUEST 
 
 Doubt is not only a warning but positive proof that Satan has 
 already gripped you. It is the beginning of his power. The 
 end is everlasting pain and damnation." 
 
 Johannes raised his head and looked at the priest, who was 
 watching the effect of his words. 
 
 In spite of his distress there was suddenly aroused in Jo- 
 hannes a feeling of resistance. He felt that an effort was 
 being made to frighten him; and even if he was but a stripling 
 he would not allow that. 
 
 "My Father does not condemn those who err in good faith," 
 said he. 
 
 Father Canisius observed that by bearing on too hard he had 
 awakened a rebellious spirit. He therefore became more cau- 
 tious, and resumed gently: 
 
 "Certainly, Johannes. God is infinitely good and merciful. 
 But have you not remarked that there is a justice from which 
 you cannot escape ? And do you believe that one who has 
 been led astray can plead, 'lam not guilty, for I was 
 deceived'.'' No, Johannes, you take this matter too lightly. 
 Punishment attends sin. That is God's inexorable law. And 
 only if He had failed to warn us — only if He had not accurately 
 revealed to us His will, could you call that cruei and unjust. 
 But we are warned — are instructed — and may follow good 
 guidance. If then we continue to stray, it is our own fault 
 and we must not complain." 
 
 "You mean the Bible, do you not, Mijnheer ?" 
 
 "The Bible and the Church," said the Father, not pleased 
 at the tone of this question. " I very well comprehend, my boy, 
 that you, with your poetic temperament and your craving for 
 the beautiful, have not found peace in the cold, barren, and 
 barbarous creed of Protestantism. But the Church gives 
 you everything — beauty, warmth, love, and exalted poetry. 
 In the Church alone can you find peace and perfect security. 
 You know, however, do you not, that the flock has need of a 
 Shepherd } And you know also who that Shepherd is ?" 
 
 "Do you mean the Pope ?"
 
 THEQUEST 369 
 
 "I mean Christ, Johannes — our Redeemer, of whom the 
 Pope is merely a human representative. Do you know this 
 Shepherd ? Do you not know Jesus Christ?" 
 
 "No, Mijnheer," rephed Johannes, in all simplicity, "I do 
 not know him at all." 
 
 "I thought as much; and that is why I said to you, 'Poor 
 boy.' But if you wish to learn to know him, I will gladly 
 help you. Do you wish me to ?" 
 
 "Why not, Mijnheer?" said Johannes. 
 
 "Very well. Begin, then, by accompanying the countess to 
 the church she has promised me to attend — Have you, 
 indeed, arranged to go?" 
 
 "Yes, Father," replied the countess. "Oh, I am so happy 
 that you take such an interest in us! Johannes will surely 
 always be grateful to you." 
 
 Father Canisius pressed very cordially the hands of both 
 of his new disciples, and, with an expression of calm satisfac- 
 tion on his face, he took his leave. 
 
 The children came in, and nothing further was said that 
 day between Johannes and his friend concerning the matter; 
 but the countess was much more animated than usual, and 
 wonderfully kind toward Johannes. She even kissed him 
 again when they said good-night, as once before she had done 
 — when with her children. 
 
 Johannes could not sleep. He was full of anxiety, and in a 
 state of high nervous tension. When the house grew still, and 
 the lonely, mysterious night had come, came also fear and 
 doubt and faint-heartedness. He doubted that he doubted, 
 and feared the doubt of the doubt. He heard the howling of 
 the wolf that lay in wait for the wandering sheep; he felt the 
 slippery, slimy, crawling grasp of those terrible arms, that 
 unnoticed, had fastened their suckers everywhere to his limbs; 
 he saw the great yellow eyes of the octopus, with the narrow, 
 slit-shaped pupil; and he felt the mouth searching and feel- 
 ing about his body for his heart, that it might stab it with the
 
 37° 
 
 THE QUEST 
 
 sharp, parrot-like beak. With chattering teeth he lay wide 
 awake between the sheets — shivering and shaking, while the 
 perspiration poured from him. 
 
 Then he heard a faint, creaking sound on the stairs, fol- 
 lowed by a light footfall at the doorway. His door was 
 opened, and a slim, dark form came cautiously up to the bed. 
 
 He felt a soft, warm hand on his clammy forehead, and 
 heard Marjon's voice whispering: 
 
 "You must be faithful, Jo, and not let them make you 
 afraid. The Father likes brave and loyal children." 
 
 "Yes, Marjon," said Johannes; and the shivering ceased, 
 while a gentle warmth stole over and through his entire body. 
 He dropped asleep so soon that he did not notice when she 
 left the room.
 
 X 
 
 "Jump out!" cried Wistik, excitedly, swinging his little red 
 cap. "Come on — jump!" 
 
 Johannes saw no way of doing so. The window was 
 high and quite too small. Perhaps by climbing still higher 
 he might find a way out. A flight of stairs, and another gar- 
 ret. Still another narrow passage, and another staii"way. 
 Then he caught another glimpse of Wistik, astride a large 
 eagle. 
 
 "Come on, Johannes!" cried he. "You must dare to — 
 then nothing can happen." 
 
 Johannes was ready to venture, but he could not do it. The 
 little window was again out of reach. Back again. Empty 
 garrets, steep stairs — stairs without end. And there was the 
 octopus! He knew it. Again and again he saw one of the 
 long arms with its hundreds of suckers. Sometimes one of 
 them lay stretched along the garret floor, so that he had to 
 step over it. Sometimes one meandered over the stairs that 
 Johannes was obliged to mount. The whole house was full 
 of them. 
 
 And out-of-doors the sun was shining, and the blue air was 
 clear and bright. Wistik was circling around the house, seated 
 on the great eagle — the very same eagle they had come across 
 before, in Phrygia. 
 
 Out-of-doors also rang the voice of Marjon. Hark! She 
 was singing. She, too, was in the open air. She seemed to 
 have made a little song, herself — words and melody — for 
 Johannes had never before heard either of them. 
 
 "Nightly there come to me, 
 
 White as the snow. 
 
 Wings that I know to be 
 
 Strange, here below. 
 
 371
 
 372 THE GUEST 
 
 "Up into ether blue, 
 Pure and so high, 
 Mounting on pinions true, 
 Singing, I fly. 
 
 "Sea-gull like then I soar — 
 Not light more swift — 
 So near to Heaven's door 
 To rock and drift!" 
 
 Alas! Johannes could not yet do that. He had no wings. 
 He did, indeed, see rays of light at times, and here and there a 
 bit of blue sky. But he could not get to it — he could not 
 get out! And on he went again — upstairs, downstairs, 
 through doorways, halls, and great garrets. And the ter- 
 rible arms lay everywhere. 
 Again Marjon sang: 
 
 "Marvelous, matchless blue 
 I cleave in flight. 
 The spheres are not so fleet 
 As my winged feet. 
 
 "World after world speed by 
 Under my hand. 
 New ones I ever espy, 
 Countless as sand. 
 
 "Blue of the skies! 
 Blue of the deep! 
 Now make me wise — 
 No more to weep." 
 
 Johannes also heard the blue calling him; but what the 
 magic word was he could not guess. He was on his knees 
 now, before a small, garret window through which he could 
 barely thrust his arm. Behind him he could hear a shuffling 
 and sliding. It was the long arm again!
 
 THE QUEST ^-j^ 
 
 "It's a shame!" said Wistik again, his httle face red with 
 anger, "the way they have mahgned me! I ought to be hail- 
 fellow with the Evil One for not letting you be. What a 
 rascal he is! Do you want to be rid of me, Johannes ? " 
 
 "No, Wistik. I believe that you are good even if you 
 have often disappointed me and made me very restless. 
 You have shown me so much that is beautiful. But why do 
 you not help me now ? If you call me you ought to help 
 me. 
 
 "No," said Wistik; "you must help yourself. You must 
 act, you understand ? Act! You know that It is behind you, 
 do you not .'' " 
 
 "Yes, yes!" shrieked Johannes. 
 
 "But, boy, do not shriek at me! Shriek at It. It is much 
 more afraid of you than you are of It. Try!" 
 
 That was an idea. Johannes set his teeth, clenched his 
 fists, turned round and shouted: 
 
 "Out, I say! Out with you — you ugly, miserable 
 wretch ! " 
 
 I even believe he used a swear-word. But one ought to 
 forgive him, because it was from sudden excitement. When 
 he saw that the long arms shriveled and drew away, and that 
 it grew still in the house — when he felt his distress abating 
 and saw the sunlight burst out, revealing a spacious deep- 
 blue sky — then his anger calmed down, and he felt rather 
 ashamed of having been so vehement. 
 
 "That is good!" said Wistik. "But do not be unmannerly 
 
 — do not scold. That is hateful. But nevertheless, act, and 
 learn compassion." 
 
 Johannes was now no longer afraid; he shouted for joy. 
 Yes, he was bathed in tears of thankfulness and relief. Oh, 
 the glorious blue sky! 
 
 "Now you know it, once for all," said Wistik. 
 
 Marjon's voice again in song. But this time very different 
 
 — the air of one of her old songs merely hummed: a cus-
 
 374 THEQUEST 
 
 tomary callino; sound — a soft suppressed little tune. And 
 thereupon followed a "tap, tap, tap," at his chamber door, 
 to tell him that it was half-past eight and time to get up. 
 
 Fresh energy, a feeling of high spirits and courage, filled 
 Johannes that day. At last he was going to act — to do some- 
 thins to end his difficulties. 
 
 First, he sought an opportunity to speak with Van Liever- 
 lee. He went to brave him in his own rooms where he had 
 never yet been. There he saw a confused medley of dissim- 
 ilar things: some rare old pieces of furniture, and oriental 
 rugs; a large collection of pipes and weapons; a few modern 
 books; on the wall some picture-studies of which Johannes 
 could not glean the meaning; some French posters picturing 
 frivolous girls. With the same glance he saw mediaeval 
 prints of saints in ecstasy, and plaster casts of wanton women, 
 and the heads of emaciated monks. There were images of 
 Christ in hideous nakedness, and lithographs and casts so 
 blood-curdling, crazy, and bizarre that they made Johannes 
 think of his most frightful dreams. 
 
 "What are you here for ?" asked Van Lieverlee tot Endegeest 
 who, with an empty pipe in his mouth and a face full of dis- 
 pleasure, lay stretched out languidly on the floor. 
 
 " I have come to ask something," said Johannes, not exactly 
 knowing how to becin. 
 
 "Not in the mood for it," drawled Van Lieverlee. 
 
 The day before, Johannes would have wilted. Not so to- 
 day. He seated himself, and thought of what Wistik had 
 said — "Act!" 
 
 "I will not wait any longer," he began again. "I have 
 waited too long already." 
 
 "The big priest has had you in hand, has he not?" said 
 Van Lieverlee, with a little more interest. 
 
 "Yes," replied Johannes; "did you know it I What do you 
 think of him ?" 
 
 Van Lieverlee gaped, nodded, and said: "A knowing one!
 
 THEQUEST 375 
 
 Just let him alone. Biceps! you know — biceps! All phy- 
 sique and intellectuality. Representative of his entire organ- 
 ization. Can't help respecting it, Johannes. How those 
 fellows can thunder at the masses! One can't help taking off 
 his hat to them. The whole lot of the Reformed aren't in it 
 with them! Theirs is only half-work; they are irresolute in 
 everything they give or take; krita-krita, as we say in San- 
 scrit. Whether you do good or do ill, aways do it wholly, not 
 by halves; otherwise you yourself become the dupe. If you 
 would keep the people down, hold them down completely. 
 To establish a church, and at the same time talk of liberty of 
 conscience, as do the Protestants — that is stuff and nonsense 
 — nothing comes of it. You may see that from the results. 
 Every dozen Protestants have their own church with its own 
 dogmas, with its own little faith which alone can save, and 
 with its little coterie of the elect! No, compared with them 
 the Roman Church is at least a respectable piece of work — 
 a formidable concern." 
 
 "Do you believe in it?" asked Johannes. 
 
 Van Liverlee shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 "I shall have to think it over a while longer. If I think it 
 agreeable to believe in it, then I shall do so. But it will be 
 in the genuine old Church, with Adam and Eve, and the sun 
 which circles around the earth; not in that modernized, up- 
 to-date Church, altered according to the advancement of sci- 
 ence — with electric light and the doctrine of heredity. How 
 disgusting! No, I must have the church of Dante, with a real 
 hell full of fire and brimstone, right here under our earth, and 
 Galileo inside of it." 
 
 "But I did not come to inquire about that," said Johannes, 
 sticking to his point. "I am not content, and you ought to 
 help me. What I have heard in the Pleiades, and from Father 
 Canisius does not satisfy me. I am sure, also, that it is not in 
 this way I shall find my friend again; and now I am deter- 
 mined to find him." 
 
 "Where, then, do you wish to look for him ?"
 
 376 THE GUEST 
 
 "I believe," said Johannes, "that if he is to be found any- 
 where, it is among the poor — the laborers." 
 
 "Ah! Would you take part in the labor agitation ? Well, 
 you can do so, but I do not agree to go with you. You know 
 what I think about that. Socialism has got to come, but I am 
 not going to concern myself with it. It smells too much of the 
 proletariat. I am very glad of the birth of a new society, but 
 a birth is always an unsavory incident. I leave that to the 
 midwife. I'll wait until the infant is thoroughly washed and 
 tidy before making its acquaintance." 
 
 " But I wish to look for my friend." 
 
 Van Lieverlee stood up and stretched himself. 
 
 "You bore me," said he, "with that eternal chatter about 
 your friend." 
 
 "Act!" thought Johannes, and he went on: 
 
 "You promised to show me the way to what I am seeking, 
 and to give an explanation of my experiences. But I know 
 no more than I knew before." 
 
 "Your own fault, my friend. Result of pride and self- 
 seeking. Why have you had so little to do with me ? You 
 kept yourself with those two little girls. Did they enlighten 
 you r 
 
 "Quite as much as you did," replied Johannes. 
 
 Van Lieverlee looked up in surprise. That was insubordi- 
 nation — open resistance. However, he thought it better to 
 take no notice, so he said: 
 
 " But since you will join the labor movement, then you must 
 find out for yourself. I won't hold you back. Go, then, 
 and look for your Mahatma!" 
 
 " But how am I to begin ? You have so many friends — 
 do you know some one who can help me ?" 
 
 Van Lieverlee thought about it while looking steadily at 
 Johannes. Then he said, deliberately: 
 
 "Very well. I know of one who is in the middle of it. 
 Would you like to go to him ?"
 
 THEQUEST 377 
 
 "Yes, at once, if you please." 
 
 "Good," said Van Lieverlee. Together they set out. The 
 friend referred to was the editor of a journal — a Doctor of 
 Laws. Felbeck was his name. 
 
 His office was far from luxurious in appearance. The 
 steps were worn, and the door-mat was trodden to shreds. It 
 was a dreary and sombre place. Large posters and carica- 
 tures were pasted on the walls, and on the table lay many 
 pamphlets and papers. Also there were writing-desks, letter- 
 boxes, and rush-bottomed chairs. Two clerks sat there writ- 
 ing, and a few men, with hats on and cigars in their mouths, 
 were talking. There was a continual running to and fro of 
 people — printers' devils, and men in slouch hats. 
 
 Dr. Felbeck himself had a pale, thin face, square jaws, 
 bristling hair, and a black goatee and moustache. His eyes 
 were deep-set, and they looked at Johannes keenly, in a 
 manner not fitted to put him into a restful and confiding 
 state of mind. 
 
 "This young person," said Van Lieverlee, "wishes, as you 
 express it, to turn his back upon his bourgeois status, and to 
 swell the ranks of the struggling proletariat. Is that what 
 you call it .? " 
 
 "Well!" said Dr. Felbeck. "He need not be ashamed of 
 it, and you might follow his example. Van Lieverlee." 
 
 "Who knows what I may yet do," said Van Lieverlee, 
 "when the proletariat shall have learned to wash itself?" 
 
 "What!" said Felbeck. "Would you, a poet, have washed 
 and combed proletarians, with collars and silk hats ? No, 
 my friend; with their vile and callous fists they will smash 
 your refined and coddled civilization, like an etagere of bric- 
 a-brac in a parlor!" Dr. Felbeck vented his feelings in a 
 blow at the imaginary etagere. The attention of a clerk on 
 the other side of the room was arrested, and he stopped his 
 work. Van Lieverlee, too, looked somewhat interested. 
 
 " A revolution appeals to me," said Van Lieverlee. " With 
 barricades, and fellows on them with red flags, straggling hair.
 
 378 THEOUEST 
 
 and bloodshot eyes. That is n't bad. But you people of 
 the Society of the Future ! — Heaven preserve us from that 
 tedious and kill-joy crowd ! I would ten times over prefer an 
 obese, over-rich banker with his jeweled rings, who, wax- 
 ing fat through the misfortunes of simpletons, builds a villa in 
 Corfu, to your future citizen." 
 
 " You do not at all understand it yet," said Felbeck, with a 
 slighting laugh. " You are bound to have such notions be- 
 cause you belong to the bourgeois class of which you are an 
 efflorescence. You are obliged to talk like a bourgeois, and 
 versify like one. You cannot do otherwise. You cannot 
 possibly comprehend the proletarian civilization of the future. 
 It is to be evolved from the proletarian class to which we be- 
 long, and with which your young friend wishes to connect 
 himself, as I perceive with pleasure." 
 
 The clerk across the room came nearer, to listen to the 
 speech of his chief. He was an under-sized young man whose 
 pomaded black hair was parted in the middle. He had a 
 crooked nose straddled by eye-glasses, and thick lips from 
 between which dangled a cigar — even while he spoke. He 
 wore a well-fitting suit, and pointed shoes with gaiters. 
 
 " May I introduce myself," said he. " I am Kaas — fellow- 
 partner Isadore Kaas." 
 
 "Pleased to meet you," said Van Lieverlee. And Johan- 
 nes also received a handshake. 
 
 "Have you come to register yourself?" the partner asked. 
 
 "In what ?" asked Johannes, who had not yet exactly gotten 
 the idea of things. "In the proletarian class?" 
 
 "As a member of the party," said Kaas. 
 
 "What does that imply?" asked Johannes, hesitating. 
 
 "It implies," said Felbeck, " that you renounce the privi- 
 leges of the class to which you are native, and that you range 
 yourself, under the red flag, in the ranks of the International 
 Workingmen's Party — with the struggling proletariat — the 
 party of the future." 
 
 "Then what have I to do?"
 
 THEQUEST 379 
 
 "Sign your name, make a small contribution, attend the 
 meetings, read our paper, spread our doctrines, and vote for 
 our candidates in the elections." 
 
 "Nothing else?" asked Johannes. 
 
 "Well, is not that enough?" 
 
 "Did you not speak of privileges I must renounce?" 
 
 "There, there!" said partner Kaas, "do not make too much 
 of that, to begin with. Don't be frightened. For the pres- 
 ent, nothing further is required of you." 
 
 "Oh, I was not afraid," said Johannes, a trifle vexed that 
 he should have been misunderstood. "I was even hoping 
 that I might be able to do more." 
 
 "So much the better! So much the better!" said Kaas, 
 stepping hurriedly over to his desk again, and eagerly hunt- 
 ing for a pen. "That settles it. Your name, if you please." 
 
 But Johannes was not, for the time being, in a very com- 
 pliant mood. Since he had dared the octopus he had found 
 that he had more than one string to his bow. 
 
 "No, I came for something else. I have a dear friend who 
 lives and works for the poor and oppressed. I am looking 
 for him. I saw him last, at the great strike of the miners, in 
 Germany. Since that time I have heard nothing from him, 
 but I know, surely, that he is with the working people. Mijn- 
 heer van Lieverlee has told me that you were in the midst of 
 the labor movement. Could you not help me?" 
 
 "What's his name?" asked Dr. Felbeck. 
 
 "They know him as Markus," replied Johannes, although 
 it cost him an effort to speak the dear name in that place. 
 
 "Markus?" repeated the gentleman, considering. "Mar- 
 kus only ?" 
 
 "Markus Vis," said Johannes, with yet more reluctance. 
 
 "Oh! He!" exclaimed partner Kaas. 
 
 "Markus Vis?" said Felbeck, turning round to the others 
 in the office. "Is that — ?" 
 
 "Yes, yes!" interrupted Kaas, " the very same who caused 
 that row at the Exchange."
 
 380 THEQUEST 
 
 "Gee! That confounded anarchist!" cried one of the soft- 
 hatted smokers. 
 
 "Is he a friend of yours?" asked Dr. Felbeck, with a dis- 
 dainful sniff. 
 
 "Yes, Mijnheer, my best friend," said Johannes, firmly. 
 
 "Well, young man, you consort with odd and dangerous 
 friends. 
 
 "Do you know where he is?" asked Johannes, quite un- 
 disturbed. 
 
 "Not I," declared Felbeck, scornfully. "Do any of you 
 happen to know ?" 
 
 " I rather think somewhere in the neighborhood of Bedlam," 
 said another man, 
 
 "Trommel," called Felbeck to a clerk who had kept on 
 writing, "where does Vis hang out at present ?" 
 
 "Markus Vis?" said partner Trommel. "Well, for the 
 nonce, at the office of an iron foundry. "He has a job there." 
 
 "That's a neat berth for him," remarked one of the smokers. 
 "You'll see what a boot-licker he'll be after he puts on a 
 collar." 
 
 "What foundry is that?" asked Van Lieverlee. 
 
 "In the 'de Ruiter,' of your uncle Mijnheer van Trigt," 
 replied partner Trommel. 
 
 "How long has he been there ?" asked Van Lieverlee. 
 
 "For two or three weeks past." 
 
 "Is he a tall dark fellow with a beard, and curling hair, 
 and a jumper ?" 
 
 "That is it — exactly!" said various voices. 
 
 Van Lieverlee swung round, strode up to the window, threw 
 back his head, pulled out his handkerchief, and snorted into 
 it. The bystanders could hardly tell whether he w'as sneez- 
 ing, or laughing, or indisposed. 
 
 "Excuse me!" he cried out. "Something comical occurred 
 to me." 
 
 Then he snorted again, and one could plainly see that he 
 was laughing.
 
 THEQUEST 381 
 
 "A Mahatma!" they heard him muimur, in the middle of 
 his laughing. "Oh! Oh! but that is good! A Mahatma!" 
 
 Those present looked rather perplexed at this outburst, as 
 if waiting for further explanation. 
 
 "If I only had had that description earlier, Johannes," said 
 Van Lieverlee, recovering from his fit of laughter, "we need 
 not have annoyed these gentlemen. Your friend is in my 
 uncle's office. I have seen him several times." 
 
 "Then will you go there with me .?" asked Johannes. His 
 voice was still firm, but I assure you his eyes were full of tears. 
 However, he controlled himself in the presence of those men 
 and partners. 
 
 "Of course, of course! Sometime!" said Van Lieverlee, 
 in high glee; and he actually began laughing again. He 
 made a pretense of trying to control this outburst, but such 
 was his manner that Johannes would have liked to strike him 
 straight in the face. 
 
 He did not do it, however, but went down the steps with 
 Van Lieverlee without having enrolled in the proletarian class. 
 
 "Well, good-by!" said Van Lieverlee, when they were in 
 the street, giving Johannes' hand an immoderate shake. "I 
 must go to the Soos.* Sometime we will go to the foundry. 
 I'll make some inquiries, first. We'll go sometime — of 
 course — of course ! " 
 
 With his mouth still twisted in irony, and humming a song, 
 he passed on, in affected indifference. That evening — alone 
 — Johannes hunted for the foundry. But the office was closed 
 and dark, and there was no one about to give him infor- 
 mation. 
 
 He found in his own little room a small bit of cheer — a 
 vase of forget-me-nots, from Marjon. 
 
 * See note, page 520.
 
 XI 
 
 "WiSTiK, dear," said Johannes, "let me hold your hand. 
 You are such a good and true friend. "I am not sorry any 
 more that I slipped from under Windekind's mantle to listen 
 to you." 
 
 "One must not admire oneself — I have always said that," 
 replied Wistik, "but it is very true that I am good, and do not 
 deserve all those mean things said of me. And what is the truth 
 may be acknowledged, even if it be called boasting. Neither 
 bragging nor decrying, but the truth — that is my idea." 
 
 Thereupon the little fellow nodded proudly, and set his cap 
 on more firmly. 
 
 They were sitting on a rocky coast. To the left the sun 
 was shining brightly upon a steep wall of rose-red rocks. To 
 the right was a gentle upward slope, where trees were grow- 
 ing, with delicate silver-grey foliage. In front of them lay 
 the wide waters of the sea — almost motionless, but sHghtly 
 stirring with the fresh wind, and sparkling in the light. There 
 was nothing to be seen save red rocks, blue sky, and water. 
 The blue, crystal-clear water lapped and gurgled and splashed 
 about the hollows and chinks in the stone at their feet, and 
 then disappeared in the clefts and caves, where the sea-weed 
 and the coral were. How bricrht it was! How fresh and 
 
 spacious 
 
 "I never see Windekind, now," said Johannes. "It is 
 truly sad, for Father Pan's kingdom was most beautiful. 
 But I am resigned, and I believe you when you say that still 
 more beautiful things are to be found. Did I not once think 
 the dunes the most beautiful of all, and fear I never should 
 feel at home an^-where else ? But now this strange land seems 
 to me even greater, and I feel at home here also. Where are 
 we, dear Wistik ?" 
 
 382
 
 THEQUEST 383 
 
 "What difFerence does it make?" said Wistik, who never 
 willingly admitted he did not know a thing. 
 
 "It does not matter," replied Johannes. "The main thing 
 is that I know that I am I — Johannes, and that I see things 
 good and clear; that yesterday I was at that office, and that 
 I sought for Markus at the foundry. And I know too that 
 I might now be seen lying asleep. But yet I am not dream- 
 ing, for I am wide awake — quite wide awake, and I remem- 
 ber everything." 
 
 " Exactly," agreed Wistik. " Do you recollect what Markus 
 said about remembering.''" 
 
 He paused a moment, and then went on in a tone that 
 grew softer and more solemn. 
 
 "Remembrance, Johannes, is truly a holy thing; for it 
 makes the past — present. Now the future to it . . . and 
 then we should be . . ." 
 
 "Where, Wistik.?" 
 
 "In that still autumn day, where the gold on the tree-tops 
 never fades, and a branch never breaks. Do you remember ? " 
 asked Wistik, hardly above a whisper. 
 
 Johannes nodded, in silence. After a while he said: 
 
 "It is splendid, Wistik, that I still remember, even in the 
 night, and stay awake and knowing things, even although my 
 body is asleep in bed. I will not be dead and lie down like a 
 log, forgetting everything, as some do in sleep. Neither will 
 I dream all sorts of nonsense, as if every night I grew foolish. 
 That is shameful. I will not do so." 
 
 "Right, Johannes! No one wishes to be dead, and no one 
 wishes to be foolish. And when human beings sleep they are 
 dead, and when they dream they are foolish. None of that 
 for me!" 
 
 "I shall try to live in my sleep, and to be wise in my 
 dreams," said Johannes. "But it is hard, and time flies so 
 fast!" 
 
 He gazed at his hands, his limbs, and his whole body. He 
 had on his handsomest suit. In amazement, he asked:
 
 384 THEQUEST 
 
 "What body is this I have on, Wistik ? And how silly to 
 wear clothes. What clothes are these?" 
 
 "Do you not see ? They are your own clothes." 
 
 So it was. Johannes recalled them precisely. And he 
 held in his hand one of Marjon's blue forget-me-nots. 
 
 "I do not understand it, Wistik! That I have a dream-life 
 
 — that I travel with you in the night, that I do understand. 
 But how did my clothes get here ^ Do my clothes dream, 
 too f " 
 
 "Why not?" asked Wistik. 
 
 Astonished, Johannes continued to meditate. The water 
 swirled and splashed all about the hollows in the rocks. The 
 exquisite warbling of a yellow-finch rang sweet and plaintive 
 from between the clefts. 
 
 " But if everything can dream, then everthing must be alive 
 
 — my trousers too, and my shoes." 
 
 "Why not?" said Wistik again. "Just prove to me that 
 they are not." 
 
 The way to do that was not clear to Johannes. 
 
 "Or perhaps," he resumed, "perhaps I make everything — 
 rocks, sea, light, and clothing. One or the other; / dream it 
 and make it, or it dreams everything itself and makes itself." 
 
 "It cannot be any other way," assented Wistik. 
 
 " But then, I could make something else if I wished to." 
 
 "I think so, too," said Wistik. 
 
 "A violin ? Could I make a violin, and then play on it?" 
 
 "Just try it," said Wistik. 
 
 Behold! There was the violin — all ready for him. Jo- 
 hannes took it, and passed the bow over the strings as if he 
 had handled it all his life. The most glorious music came 
 from it — as fine as any he had ever heard. 
 
 "Oh, Wistik! Do you hear ? Who would ever have thought 
 that I could make such music!" 
 
 "'Vraagal can do all that Vraagal wills,' said Pan." 
 
 "Yes," said Johannes, musing an instant, and forgetting 
 his violin, which forthwith vanished. "Pan also spoke of the
 
 THEQUEST 385 
 
 real Devil, you remember. He said that I must ask you to 
 show him to me." 
 
 Wistik had drawn up his little knees and placed his arms 
 about them, his long beard hanging down in front to his shins. 
 Sitting thus, he threw a sidelong glance at Johannes, to see 
 if he intended to do it. Then his entire little body began to 
 tremble. "Shall we not take a little fly out over the ocean ?" 
 he asked. 
 
 But Johannes was not to be diverted. 
 
 "No, I want to see the real Devil." 
 
 "Are you sure, Johannes?" 
 
 "Yes," replied the latter. He felt himself a hero, now, 
 after having defied the octopus. 
 
 "Think well about it," said Wistik. 
 
 "What does he look like?" 
 
 "What do you think?" 
 
 "I think," said Johannes, beginning to look stern and 
 angry, "I think he looks like Marjon's sister." 
 
 "Why?" asked Wistik. 
 
 "Because I hate her!" Because whatever I thmk beautiful 
 she always spoils for me, and spoils it through the remem- 
 brance alone. She looks like Marjon, and she also looks like 
 that dear friend about whom I am always thinking; and yet 
 she is not the same — she is ugly and common. She kissed 
 me once, and it has spoiled my life." 
 
 "Wrong, Johannes! He does not look in the least like 
 that," said Wistik. 
 
 Suddenly, Johannes noticed that the bright light was grow- 
 ing dimmer, and that the great firm rocks began to quiver and 
 shake as if seen through heated air, uneven glass, or flowing 
 water. 
 
 Then, all at once, he knew, without descrying it, through 
 an inner feeling of nameless distress, that It was sitting behind 
 him. 
 
 It! You know well, do you not, what it was? It — the
 
 386 THEQUEST 
 
 same that sat by the pool when that poor young girl was 
 drowned — It was sitting behind him, huge and deathly 
 still. Sunlight, sea, and rocks — the whole beautiful land, 
 grew hazy and vague. 
 
 **He is here," whispered Wistik, "behind us. Bear up, 
 Johannes! You yourself wanted it." 
 
 "What shall I do ?" asked Johannes, now very nervous and 
 terrified. 
 
 "Do not be afraid! For God's sake, do not be afraid! If 
 you do you are lost." 
 
 "Shall I cry to God, or to Jesus ? Or cross myself?" 
 
 "He cares not a bit for such things; he laughs at them; 
 he knows all about them. He makes fun of prayers and the 
 sign of the cross. The main thing is to keep on the alert, and 
 not to be afraid. He will be very friendly, and show you all 
 kinds of pretty and interesting sights, and he will try to make 
 you sleepy and afraid. But you must not fear and must not 
 forget. Above all, keep fast hold of Marjon's flower. And 
 here . . . look!" 
 
 With his nervously trembling little fingers Wistik fumbled 
 in the small satchel that always hung by a strap over his 
 shoulder, and took from the jumbled lot of pebbles, scissors, 
 lead-pencils, and dried plants, a little mirror on the frame of 
 which his name was neatly engraved. Then in a voice shaken 
 and nearly speechless with emotion, he said: "Hold that good 
 and fast! It is your salvation. Go now, dear boy. Go!" 
 
 And the good little fellow wept. 
 
 "Are you not going with me ?" asked Johannes, in agitation. 
 
 "I am his greatest enemy," said Wistik; "he cannot en- 
 dure the sight of me. But I will stay in the neighborhood. 
 Call me once in a while, and I will answer you. Then you 
 will know that you are safe. . . ." 
 
 "Welcome, Johannes!" said a gentle, friendly voice, and a 
 soft warm hand clasped his own. "You are not embarrassed 
 in my presence, I hope."
 
 THEQUEST 387 
 
 Could that be the Evil One ? A nice, polite person like 
 that, with such taking manners, and such a caressing voice ? 
 Johannes looked round, in amazement, to the place where It 
 was. He could not distinguish clearly, nor look straight at 
 the speaker, but he seemed to be an ordinary, modish gentle- 
 man, with a frank, smiling face — well dressed in a brown 
 suit and a straw hat. 
 
 "Would you not Hke to make acquaintance with me and my 
 Museum?" continued the speaker. "It is an excellent col- 
 lection — sure to please you. But what have you in your 
 hand ? Not a mirror, is it ? Fie! You must throw it away. 
 I have no patience with such mirrors. I abhor them! They 
 foster only conceit." 
 
 The soft hand essayed to take away the mirror, but Johan- 
 nes held it fast, and said firmly: "I will keep the mirror." 
 
 He had scarcely said this when there flitted across that smil- 
 ing, honest-looking face a shade of indescribable malice. It was 
 very brief, but plain enough to cause Johannes a shudder, and 
 to convince him that truly the Evil One stood before him. 
 
 But instantly the face became again most frank and win- 
 ning, and he heard: 
 
 "Very well, then, as you please. We will begin by making 
 the acquaintance of my subjects — all of them friends, com- 
 rades, or relatives." 
 
 Just then Johannes heard again the well-remembered whis- 
 pering and giggling which he had heard while watching the 
 little hands. On all sides, amid much rustling and shuffling, 
 he heard breathing, coughing, and sniffling — all sorts of queer 
 human sounds, as if the place was thronged with people. But 
 still he could see nothing. 
 
 "You fancied I was very different, did you not, Johannes? 
 That I had horns and a tail ? That idea is out of date. No 
 one believes it now. Thank God we are forever above that 
 foolish separation of good and evil. That is untenable Dual- 
 ism. My kingdom is as good as the other." 
 
 "What is your name?" asked Johannes.
 
 388 THE QUEST 
 
 " They call me King Waan.* Yes, indeed ! I am a king, 
 if I do appear so humble. Besides, external pomp is out of 
 fashion. I am a constitutional, bourgeois, democratic king. 
 Here, Bangeling ! * Come here ! This is my most trusty 
 helper — my right hand, in fact." 
 
 Johannes shuddered at the sight of Bangeling — a shrink- 
 ing, stooping, pale, and loathsome youngster. His eyes were 
 red-rimmed, and glanced shiftingly right and left — never 
 straight in front. His lean knees knocked against each other, 
 and every moment his rag-covered body twitched with terror, 
 and he cried: "Oh, Heaven! Oh, God! Now you will 
 catch it! It is too late! Too la-a-ate!" 
 
 To hear and see this repeatedly, without becoming fright- 
 ened oneself, was not easy; but Johannes pressed his flower 
 close to his breast and cried: 
 
 "Wistik!" 
 
 "Ay, ay!" he heard his good little friend shout. 
 
 But the voice sounded from above, and far away. And 
 suddenly Johannes had a very distinct sensation of falling, 
 fast as lightning, down fathomless depths, although every- 
 thing around him remained the same. 
 
 "Are we falling down below?" he asked. 
 
 King Waan gave Johannes a falsely-sweet smile. "One 
 should not ask such impolite questions when making a visit," 
 said he. 
 
 "Get away!" cried Johannes to Bangeling, who was now 
 standing close beside them, twitching and whining. Then a 
 throng of frightful figures pushed forward, trying to approach 
 him, grinning, twisted, misformed faces — some with big purple 
 noses, others with drooling lips — still others pale, and passive, 
 with closed eyes, but with scornful muttering mouths. 
 
 Johannes knew these figures well; he had often when a child 
 seen them in his dreams. And doubtless you also have 
 seen many of them in the night — just before the measles 
 broke out, or after you have eaten too much pie for dinner. 
 
 And you were very much afraid of them, were you not.? 
 
 * See note, page 520.
 
 THEQUEST 389 
 
 Perhaps as much as formerly Johannes was. But this time 
 he was not in the least afraid. When they came too near, 
 he called out in a fierce voice: "Back!" Then they grew 
 pale, and crumpled up like withered toadstools. 
 
 "This one is Ginnegap ! "* said the Devil, pointing out a 
 girl-like being with open mouth, dull eyes, and a finger in each 
 nasty nostril, who was constantly tittering. " Another excel- 
 lent assistant of mine. Here are Labbekak * and Goedzak ; * 
 charming twins, compact of goodness and charity. Just 
 look! They quiver and quake like jelly. They have no 
 bones, and they never did any wrong. If they do not belong 
 in heaven, who does ?" 
 
 "Of course they have no sense," said Johannes. 
 
 "But here, then ^ — this one — an old acquaintance of 
 yours. Maybe you think he has no wits, either?" 
 
 Who was it Johannes saw there ? Pluizer, in truth — his 
 old enemy Pluizer! But he lacked a good deal of looking so 
 pert and fierce as formerly. Upon seeing Johannes he hid 
 himself behind the back of a stout, dumpy demon. 
 
 "A little to one side, Sleur!" said the king to the bulky 
 devil. "Give Johannes a peep at his old friend." 
 
 But Sleur did not budge. He was very sluggish. Pluizer 
 called out: 
 
 "Does Death know about it, Johannes — that you are 
 already here ?" 
 
 "What is this place, really?" asked Johannes. "Hell? 
 Is it here that Dante was ?" 
 
 "Dante ?" asked the Devil. And all his retainers whispered 
 and tittered and chattered: "Dante ? Dante? Dante?" 
 
 "Surely," resumed the king, "you must mean that nice 
 place full of light where it is so hot and smells so bad; where 
 sand melts; where rivers of blood are seething, and the boiling 
 pitch is ever bubbling; where they scream and yell and curse 
 and lament, and swear at one another." 
 
 "Yes," said Johannes. "Dante told about that." 
 
 *' But, my little friend ! " said the Devil, affably, " that is 
 
 * See note, page 520.
 
 390 THEQUEST 
 
 not here, as you can very well see. That is not my kingdom. 
 That is the kingdom of another who, they say, is called Love. 
 With me, no one suffers. I am not so cruel as that. I cause 
 no one pain." 
 
 "I know that well," said Johannes, "for so long as I have 
 pain I am alive and am warned. Is it not so, Wistik ?" 
 
 "Yes!" cried the little fellow, his voice now sounding as if 
 far in the distance — up above. 
 
 "We are falling all the time!" said Johannes, in great alarm. 
 
 "Do not think about it. Does it make you dizzy? I 
 thought you were so level-headed. Just give this a look. This 
 is my cabinet of curiosities." 
 
 And before Johannes knew that he had entered anything 
 he found himself in a very small, close room. It was exactly 
 like a bathroom with low ceilings, and was brightly lighted. 
 
 "You did not think to find it so well lighted here, did 
 you I 
 
 "Trick-light!" shouted Wistik, his voice coming faintly 
 from above. 
 
 "Look! Here lies an acquaintance of yours." 
 
 And King Waan pointed to a straight white form that lay 
 on the stone floor. It was Helene; and Johannes saw that 
 she was calmly sleeping. 
 
 Two imps stood looking at her; one was Bangeling; the 
 other, equally small and dirty, stood gnawing his nails. His 
 head, with its misshapen ears, was much too big for him. 
 He had on a barret-cap of aniline blue velvet, with russet rib- 
 bons, a pale-green blouse of Scotch plaid, and short trousers, 
 as purple as spoiled berry-juice. 
 
 "That is Degeneracy," said Waan. "These two brought 
 her here; a deserving deed. We hope to keep her. Look! 
 See how peacefully she sleeps." 
 
 The sight of the pale, still sleeper, with her outspread 
 black hair, made Johannes also feel drowsy. But he looked 
 in his little mirror, holding his eyes open, hard, and called: 
 "Helena!"
 
 THEQUEST 391 
 
 The long dark lashes were lifted just a little. 
 
 "Pst! Not a word!" said the king. "Here we come to 
 number two — a pretty and clever piece of work." 
 
 By a little door, so low and narrow that Johannes had to 
 wriggle his way through it, they entered the next place. They 
 were in an extremely smart little church — a dolls' church. 
 The walls were bare and white, and little candles were burn- 
 ing. In the pulpit stood a tiny little dominie, preaching fer- 
 vidly, gesticulating with hand and head. 
 
 "Dominie Kraalboom!" cried Johannes, in astonishment. 
 Who is he raving at?" 
 
 "Look at him, Johannes!" said Waan. "Only do not 
 think he is dead. In order to come here one does not have to 
 wait till death. And do you not see at whom he is raving ? 
 Take a good look." 
 
 "Reflectors!" exclaimed Johannes. In reality the little 
 church was empty, but it was everywhere furnished with 
 pretty little mirrors, and in each one of them was reflected the 
 dominie's little face surrounded by a halo. 
 
 "Those mirrors are of peculiar manufacture. I make 
 much use of them. The imported article alone I cannot en- 
 dure. Look ! here is the counterpart." 
 
 Another little church — just as smart and neat and light. 
 But here there were many more candles, also flowers and 
 images. The walls were gaudily painted with pictures, and 
 Father Canisius stood in glittering, gold-embroidered gar- 
 ments, praying and mumbling before the altar. 
 
 Johannes looked up at the stained-glass windows. It was 
 as dark as pitch behind them. 
 
 "What is outside there?" he asked. "Just let me look 
 out." And he thought he could hear the snickering and gig- 
 gling of the imps who were peering through the windows. 
 
 "Keep away! Silence!" cried the king, sternly. 
 
 "Wistik!" called Johannes. 
 
 "Ay!" sounded the voice, now very fine, and far away. 
 And they kept falling, falling.
 
 392 THEQUEST 
 
 Through a long, narrow passage they went to the next 
 number. It did not smell very fresh there, and Johannes 
 soon noticed that this stale-smelling apartment corresponded 
 with what they usually called at home "the best room." 
 
 In the middle of the white-wood floor stood an overturned 
 waste-water pail. A puddle of thick, offensive fluid lay 
 trickling around it. 
 
 "Under this," said King Waan, "sits one of the most re- 
 markable specimens in my collection. It is a little creature 
 having the habit of describing precisely everything it sees. 
 His watchword is: 'Truth Above Everything!' He could 
 not have a finer one. I make very interesting experiments 
 with him. Sometimes I put him here, sometimes there. Just 
 now he is under this pail. Listen to him!" 
 
 A light little voice came monotonously out from under the 
 pail: 
 
 "A rich, soft greyish violet shading off through brown into 
 cream-white, clot-curdling stripe coagulations; long flittery- 
 fluttery down-trickling welter-whirls filtering through pale- 
 yellow toned-down dully shining topazy vaults; faint phlegmy 
 greyish-green dozing off ..." 
 
 And thus the voice went on until Johannes began to get quite 
 qualmish and drowsy. 
 
 " Is not that nice ? Lately, I had him in a cuspidor. You 
 should have heard him then. Here is his label." 
 
 And he pointed to a trim little tag on which was marked: 
 Division, Fine Arts. Naturalist, var. JVord-Artist. Local- 
 ity: Terra Firma of Europe. Rather rare. 
 
 "Is Van Lieverlee here, also?" asked Johannes. 
 
 "To be sure! I have him a few centuries farther on, com- 
 posing sonnets," said the Wicked One. "This is a very 
 large place although you might not think so. I can show you 
 only a small part of it." 
 
 Then they came to a division called "Sciences," and the 
 Devil said:
 
 THEQUEST 393 
 
 "Look! That concerns you, Wisdom-Seeker!" 
 
 And he had Johannes look through the crack of the door, 
 into a httle room brightly lighted, cram-full of books. Pro- 
 fessor Bommeldoos was there, standing on his head. 
 
 "Pluizer taught him that," said the Devil. "And do you 
 see that clever contrivance he has made of mirrors and copper 
 tubes ? That is to look into his own brains with. He thinks 
 to become still wiser." 
 
 The professor was utterly absorbed in his intricate appa- 
 ratus, and gazed and gazed, with all his might, into an odd 
 sort of twisted tubing, the end of which was attached to the 
 back part of his head. 
 
 Johannes heard a low rushing and roaring, as if made by a 
 gust of wind. 
 
 "Silence!" cried the Devil, testily. 
 
 But the roaring sound continued and grew louder. 
 
 "What is that?" asked Johannes. 
 
 " That is Death," said the Devil, spitefully. " He is called 
 an ally of mine, but he often muddles up my affairs here, and 
 he steals by the thousand the choicest specimens in my col- 
 lection — especially the crack-brained." 
 
 " Here they are all crack-brained," said Johannes. 
 
 " Yes ; but those you in the awake-life call that, he snatches 
 away from me. Here we come to the division, " Happiness." 
 This is the richest man in the world. Would you like a mag- 
 nifying glass ?" 
 
 The pen wherein sat the richest man in the world was all 
 of gold, but so small that Johannes could not possibly enter 
 it. The richest man in the world had a large head, quite 
 bare and bald, above a very small insignificant body. He 
 moved slowly back and forth, like a caterpillar incasing him- 
 self; and out of his little lips there driveled golden threads with 
 which he made a cocoon of himself. 
 
 "Poor fellow!" said Johannes, shuddering. 
 
 " Nonsense ! Nonsense ! " returned the Devil. " Here 
 they are all happy. They know no better. I never torment
 
 394 
 
 THE QUEST 
 
 as does the Other with his Love eternal. I have also 
 here the classification 'War.' You would naturally think 
 that these must be unhappy. But quite the contrary. In 
 general, I am an enemy of war. I prefer peace, as you will 
 presently see. But this is a pleasant 'War.' In fact, the 
 people enjoy it. For that reason it belongs here." 
 
 And now they came to a long row of very small pens in 
 which was just such a bustle as one hears at night in a chicken- 
 coop when the fowls are going to sleep. Over each little pen 
 was: " Religions War" ^^ Party Strife," ^^Class Strife " a.nd as 
 Johannes looked in through a small window, he saw a soli- 
 tary little fellow, much excited and red in the face, who stood 
 skirmishins in front of a mirror. The reflection of his own 
 figure was so queer that it looked like someone's else. 
 
 In the third pen Johannes saw Dr. Felbeck. With furious 
 fists, the little fellow rushed up to the mirror again and again, 
 and stamped and scolded and raved until the foam flew from 
 his mouth. 
 
 Then they came to a very long and diminishing little room 
 that bore the words Love and Peace. 
 
 "There!" said the Devil. "Now we can talk aloud. They 
 are not easily wakened here. Snug and cozy, is it not ? A 
 section of it also is Pure Living, and Piety, and Benevo- 
 lence. 
 
 In the little ward stood many tiny beds, as in a hospital; 
 and Johannes saw Labbekak and Goedzak in slovenly felt 
 slippers, shuffling back and forth, distributing cups of warm 
 tea and spoonfuls of a syrupy mixture. The beings in the 
 little beds licked off" the spoons, and fell asleep again. 
 
 Outside, the demons yelled and screeched still louder, and 
 the downward motion was so apparent that Johannes grew 
 dizzy. 
 
 "Here, also," said the Devil, "Death does me much harm." 
 
 Johannes looked at him. He now appeared wholly differ- 
 ent. His brown suit had disappeared, and his smooth supple 
 body — as shiny as a snakeskin — was as iridescent as water
 
 THEOUEST 395 
 
 stirred by dripping tar. His face, too, was far less affable. 
 Hollow and grinning, it began to look like a death's head. 
 
 "You are the real Death!" exclaimed Johannes. "The 
 other is a good friend of mine. I have no more fear of him." 
 
 The Devil laughed and reached out his hand toward Johan- 
 nes' little flower. But Johannes caught it up close to his 
 breast. The flower hung limp and seemed to be perishing. 
 The little mirror shook like a leaf in his hand, so that he could 
 scarcely hold it. 
 
 " Wistik!" he cried. 
 
 He listened, but could hear nothing. And now he seemed 
 to be falling with whizzing speed. Johannes was greatly 
 alarmed. The long ward with its rows of little beds grew 
 ever longer, ever narrower. 
 
 "Wistik! Marjon! Let me out! Let me out! Set me 
 free!" 
 
 "I have also a classification 'Freedom'," remarked the 
 Devil, pointing out a mannikin who, busy with a long ribbon 
 inscribed w^ith the words ''Freedom and Justice,^' kept wind- 
 ing it around his head, arms, and legs until he could not move 
 a muscle. 
 
 "No!" cried Johannes, banging with both hands — in 
 which were still clutched his flower and mirror — at a hard, 
 spotted door. This door was marked "Sin and Crime." 
 
 "Look out!" said the Devil. "Do you not see what it says 
 over It r 
 
 "I do not care what it says!" cried Johannes, pounding 
 away. 
 
 "Take care! For God's sake, take care!" shouted Bange- 
 Hng. 
 
 "Help! Wistik! Marjon! Markus! help!" cried Johan- 
 nes, crashing through the door. 
 
 Before him he saw a black and bottomless night; but it 
 was more spacious, and he felt his distress diminishing. 
 
 And now he saw the imps all racing after him, and they
 
 396 THEOUEST 
 
 were playing with something. It ghttered as they threw it, 
 one to another, and they tugged and pulled and spit on it, and 
 did things still worse — such as only very vile and impudent 
 beings could do. 
 
 It was a book, and Johannes saw his name upon it — his 
 own and his family name. Johannes was called the "Trav- 
 eler" of his family. 
 
 At last one of the imps caught hold of it by a leaf, and flung 
 it high up in air to tear it to pieces. The leaves fluttered and 
 glittered, but held together. And the book, ceasing to fall, 
 went higher and higher up into the dark night until it seemed 
 in the far distance to be a little star. 
 
 Johannes kept looking at it with all his might, and it seemed 
 to him as if he were a light bit of wood, or a bubble, rising 
 swifter and swifter to the surface — from out the awful depths 
 of the sea. Then, slowly, the heavens grew blue and bright. 
 
 At last he was drifting in the full light of day. His eyes 
 were still closed, but he felt that he had returned to his day 
 body, and he rested — still a little longer — in the light, mo- 
 tionless, blissful slumber of a convalescent, or of one come 
 home again after a long and weary journey.
 
 XII 
 
 "Shall we go to the beach this morning?" asked Countess 
 Dolores after breakfast. "It will be fresh and cool there 
 now." 
 
 It was a merry morning trip. Both of t^e little girls went 
 with them, and Johannes carried a small folding chair, and 
 his friend's book. The countess took a seat in a beach-chair, 
 and Johannes sat at her feet and read aloud to her, while the 
 two children — their skirts tucked up, and their little feet and 
 legs bare and pink in the clear light — busied themselves in 
 the water and sand, with their pails and shovels. 
 
 Everything was flooded with sunshine, and clearly, beauti- 
 fully tinted: — the knotted blonde tresses of the little girls — 
 beneath their broad-brimmed white beach-hats — against the 
 delicate blue of the horizon; the still deeper blue of the sea 
 wherein could be seen the bright figures of the bathers in their 
 red and blue bathing-dresses; and right and left the pure white 
 sand, and the snowy foam. 
 
 Johannes had indeed become quite accustomed to what had 
 so pained him at first — the profanation of the sea by human 
 beings — so they were happy hours. 
 
 He resolved this morning to resume his inquiries after 
 Markus, as soon as he was at liberty to do so. 
 
 They had not been sitting long on the beach when Van 
 Lieverlee came sauntering -up, arrayed in white flannel. He 
 was without a waistcoat, but wore a lilac shirt, and a wide, 
 black-silk girdle, and had on a straw hat. 
 
 He gave the countess a graceful cordial greeting, and imme- 
 diately said to Johannes, this time without irony: 
 
 "I sent to my uncle, this morning, for information. Your 
 friend is not there now. He received his discharge last Sat- 
 urday on account of his disorderly conduct." 
 
 "What had he done?" asked Johannes. 
 
 397
 
 398 THEQUEST 
 
 "He had delivered an address at the exchange when, mark 
 you, he had gone there on a matter of business. Now," said 
 Van Lieverlee, looking at the countess with a smile, "it is 
 quite obvious that a man of affairs could not retain such a 
 clerk as that. It takes my uncle Van Trigt, who is so jealous 
 of his good name, to deal with such cases." 
 
 "Yes, I understand," said Dolores. 
 
 "It depends, though, upon what he said," ventured 
 Johannes. 
 
 "No! One talks about business at the exchange — not 
 about reason and morality. There is a time and a place for 
 everything. My uncle was well satisfied with him in all else. 
 He had taken him for a rather well-bred person, he said. But 
 the man has a remarkable propensity for discoursing in public 
 places." 
 
 "Where is he now.f'" 
 
 "Where is any idler who has received his discharge? Off 
 looking for an easy berth, I should say." 
 
 "Is your friend so very poor?" asked the countess, in a 
 serious whisper, as one would speak over the shame of a 
 kinsman. 
 
 "Of course," replied Johannes, with a positiveness that was 
 a challenge. "Indeed, he would be ashamed not to be poor." 
 
 "I think such men insufferable!" exclaimed Van Lieverlee. 
 "As Socrates said, their conceit can be seen through the holes 
 in their clothes. Without even opening their mouths they — 
 every one of them — seem to be forever preaching morals and 
 finding fault. I hate the tribe. They are of all men the most 
 turbulent and dangerous." 
 
 Johannes had never yet seen Van Lieverlee so angry, but he 
 remained cool throughout the tirade, and kept his temper. 
 
 The countess said in a languid voice: 
 
 "He certainly is very immoderate. I cannot say, either, 
 that such pronounced types are to my taste." 
 
 Johannes was silent, and the other two talked together a 
 while longer. The children came up nearer, and lying down
 
 THE GUEST 
 
 399 
 
 in the clean, clear sand, they listened to the conversation. It 
 was a bright group, tor they were all dressed in white, except 
 Johannes. 
 
 At last Van Lieverlee rose to go, and the countess, clinging 
 to his hand, with a certain warmth of manner said: 
 
 "Of course you are coming to dinner?" 
 
 "Most assuredly!" replied Van Lieverlee. 
 
 After he had gone, there were several moments of con- 
 strained silence — a sort of suspense so obvious that even the 
 children did not resume their chatter as usual, but continued 
 silently playing with the sand, as if waiting for something to be 
 said. 
 
 Johannes also began to comprehend that something was 
 pending, but he had no idea of what it could be. 
 
 At last the lady said, rather hesitatingly, while tracing all 
 kinds of curious figures in the sand, with her parasol: 
 
 "Have you not observed anything, Johannes?" 
 
 "Observed anything? I? No, Mevrouw," replied Johan- 
 nes, with some discomposure. He surely had observed 
 nothing. 
 
 "I have!" said Olga, decidedly, without looking up. 
 
 "I, too!" lisped Frieda after her. 
 
 "Hear the little smarties!" said Mevrouw, laughing in con- 
 fusion, and blushing. "Well, what have you observed?" 
 
 "A new papa!" replied Olga. 
 
 "A new papa!" repeated Frieda. 
 
 Johannes looked up in some surprise and perplexity, into 
 the beautiful, laughing eyes, and exquisite, blushing face of 
 his friend. 
 
 Her laugh was a confirmation; and accompanying her ques- 
 tion with a shake of the head, she continued: 
 
 "Really, do you not understand yet ?" 
 
 "No," replied Johannes, in all seriousness. "Who is the 
 new papa ?"
 
 400 THEQUEST 
 
 "There he goes," said Olga, pointing with her Httle white 
 finger after Van Lieverlee. And Frieda, too, stretched out 
 her Httle hand in his direction. 
 
 "Fie, children! Do not point," said Mevrouw. 
 
 And Johannes began to comprehend — much as one does 
 who has fallen out of a window, or has been struck on the 
 head with a stone. As in the latter case, his first thought was 
 astonishment at the cause of the blow, and that he could pos- 
 sibly survive it„ 
 
 The blue air, the sea, the sand, the series of light-green 
 dunes, the houses, the white figures — everything reeled and 
 whirled, and then grew altogether black. He could not think, 
 but only felt that he was extremely uncomfortable and qualm- 
 ish. He was obliged to go. 
 
 As he stood up, he heard the words: "How pale you are!" 
 That was the last. Then he walked away, beside the sea, 
 hearing nothing save the washing of the waves upon the sand 
 and the rushing of the blood in his ears. 
 
 He staggered a little back and forth, as if he had been 
 drinking too much, and he wondered how that could be. 
 
 At last he could no longer see the people or houses — only 
 water, sky, and sand. 
 
 It seemed to have been his intention; for, weak and limp, he 
 went and lay down in the loose sand, and fell into a drowse.
 
 XIII 
 
 Such drowsing is not real sleep, neither does it refresh. When 
 Johannes awoke after a quarter of an hour, his throat was 
 parched, and he felt as if his heart were shriveled in his breast. 
 He essayed to think over what had happened, but it was too 
 bitter and too frightful. He looked at the imprinted sand 
 where he had been lying, as if he would go to sleep again. But 
 now he could not sleep, and must stay awake. 
 
 He sat up and stared at the sea, and then again at the dunes. 
 What was it that had befallen him ? A very long time — he 
 knew not himself how long — he sat looking. Then he stood 
 up, feeling stiff and sluggish, as if dead tired from a long 
 journey. Slowly and aimlessly he dragged himself into the 
 dunes, and tried to take an interest in the beetles and the 
 flowers. Sometimes, from force of habit, he succeeded; but 
 immediately there returned the shudderings which that cruel 
 blow had caused. 
 
 It had never entered his head that he himself would marry 
 his friend. Why, then, should it go to his heart as if he were 
 flung aside and trampled upon, now that another was about to 
 take the place of her husband ? 
 
 "It must not — must not be!" was all he could say. He 
 very well knew that the world did not always concern itself with 
 his thoughts, and that his day-life was conducted quite differ- 
 ently from his night-life where everything proceeded from his 
 will and wish. But this was so squarely against his desires and 
 ideas that it seemed to him as if the world ynust care about it. 
 
 Naturally, the world continued not to mind anything about 
 it, because the world is a far greater and stronger thought than 
 that of Little Johannes. 
 
 And if he had been sensible he would have modestly ad- 
 mitted it, because it is true. Then, at the most, that truth 
 would only have saddened him. 
 
 401
 
 402 THEQUEST 
 
 But he was not yet very wise, and he did not wish to admit 
 that his mind and thought were still weak and small com- 
 pared with the great world-thought. And therefore he was 
 not only sad, but angry as well. 
 
 Do not judge him too harshly, for he was still more boy 
 than man. And how few 7nen even there are with such clear 
 good sense that they impute the variance solely to their own 
 weakness and stupidity, and do not become dismayed and 
 embittered when the world differs from them. 
 
 Johannes, then, was angry — furiously angry. That surely 
 was not sensible, but yet it proved that he had more 
 stamina than had Labbekak and Goedzak. 
 
 And all his anger was directed against that person who had 
 thrust him aside from the place which he had so long, without 
 being aware of it, considered his own. He thought Van 
 Lieverlee not only a tiresome fool, but also an odious, abom- 
 inable monster that ought to be exterminated. 
 
 And as his fancy pictured other figures, and he thought of 
 that other hated being, Marjon's sister, and then again of Van 
 Lieverlee, and his dear, beautiful, winsome friend, he found 
 himself closely and frightfully besieged by insupportable 
 thoughts — as if in a fire-begirt city, all aglow and scorch- 
 ing, with ever narrowing streets. 
 
 It was impossible to cry. At other times, as you surely 
 must have observed, his tears came quickly enough. But now 
 his eyes seemed to have been cauterized. Eyes, heart, brains, 
 and ideas — all were equally hot and dry, and strained and 
 distressed. 
 
 He went home at night with no idea of the hour. He had 
 eaten nothinc, but felt neither hunger nor thirst. Where he 
 had been for so long, he was unable to tell. He went to his 
 room and began trifling with his knickknacks — his souvenirs, 
 books, and little treasures — for he was a collector. 
 
 His hostess came to rap at his door and to ask what was 
 the matter — where he had been, and why he had been absent 
 from his afternoon lessons. But Johannes did not invite her
 
 THE QUEST 403 
 
 in, and said that he wished to be alone. And she, half sur- 
 mising the truth, and distressed about it, did not insist. 
 
 Then, among his treasures, Johannes found a pair of com- 
 passes — a large pair, one arm of which could be loosened for 
 the attachment of a tracing-pen. And that single, loosened 
 compass-arm was a shining, three-cornered bit of steel, about 
 a finger long, and as sharp as a lancet. 
 
 With some wood and leather he contrived a handle for that 
 bit of steel, and then he had a dagger — a real, wicked, dan- 
 gerous dagger. 
 
 Apparently he did this merely to pass away the time, but 
 after it was finished he began to think what could be done 
 with it. Then what he wished to do with it. And at last how 
 he should do it, //, indeed, he was to do it. 
 
 Thus, he was already a good bit on in an ugly way. 
 
 The octopus that he had defied so bravely had laid for him a 
 trap of which he was not aware; for it has many more than 
 eight arms, and there are many more demons than those 
 whose acquaintance Johannes had already made. 
 
 He was going to step up to Van Lieverlee and say to him, 
 "You or I." And if Van Lieverlee should then laugh at 
 him, as he most likely would, he would stab him to death. 
 
 Such thoughts as that actually took possession of Little 
 Johannes' head; for, I have told you, indeed, that Love is 
 nothing to be ridiculed. Fortunately, a wide gulf yawns 
 between thought and deed, otherwise there would be a great 
 many more accidents upon this earth. 
 
 It was already past midnight, and he still sat pottering and 
 burnishing and sharpening, when he heard again the creaking 
 of the stair, that he now instantly recognized, and Marjon's 
 step at the door. 
 
 She opened the door, and Johannes looked into her dis- 
 tended, anguished eyes. Her blonde hair fell straight and 
 free over her shoulders, and her long white night-dress 
 reached down to her bare feet. 
 
 "What are you doing, Jo?" she asked. "You make me
 
 404 THEQUEST 
 
 so anxious! What has happened? Where have you been 
 the whole long day ? Why do you eat nothing ? And why are 
 you still sitting up, with a light, till after midnight ?" 
 
 Startled and distressed, Johannes made no reply. The 
 dagger was still in his hand. He tried to hide it, without 
 being observed, under his handkerchief. But Marjon saw it, 
 and asked excitedly: 
 
 "What is that?" 
 
 "Nothing," said Johannes, in shame and confusion, like a 
 detected child. 
 
 Marjon snatched away the handkerchief, and looked from 
 the shining little object to Johannes with an expression of 
 mingled pain and fright. 
 
 In silence they looked into each other's eyes a long time — 
 Marjon with a searching, beseeching gaze, until Johannes 
 lowered his lids and let his head droop. 
 
 "Who is it for ?" she whispered. "Yourself?" 
 
 Without speaking or looking up, Johannes shook his head. 
 Marjon sighed deeply, as if relieved. 
 
 "For whom, then?" again she asked. "For . . . him?" 
 
 Johannes nodded. Then she said: 
 
 "Poor Jo!" 
 
 That sounded strangely to him, for when irritated one is 
 not apt to be compassionate toward others nor toward one's 
 self. He thought, rather, to find abhorrence of his blood- 
 thirsty plan. But she said it so sincerely and fervently that he 
 began to weaken, although not to the point of crying. 
 
 " You will not do it, will you ? It would not help at all. 
 And you would . . . you would make me so frightfully 
 unhappy." 
 
 " I cannot endure it, Marjon — I cattnot endure it!" 
 
 Marjon kneeled down by the table, and rested her chin in 
 her hands. Her clear, true eyes were now looking steadily at 
 Johannes, and as she spoke they grew more tranquil. Johan- 
 nes continued to look at her with the irresolute expression of 
 one in despair who yet hoped for deliverance.
 
 THEQUEST 405 
 
 "Poor Jo!" repeated Marjon. And then, slowly, with fre- 
 quent pauses, she said: "Do you know why I can speak so? 
 ... I know exactly how you feel. I have felt that way, 
 too. I did not think that this would be the way of it — the 
 way it now is. I only thought, ' She is going to have him, not 
 I.' And then I too said, ' It cannot — cannot be! ' But yet it 
 might have been. And now you say, 'It cannot be.' But 
 it can, just the same." 
 
 Here she waited a while, and Johannes looked at her more 
 attentively, and with less irresolution. 
 
 " And now listen, Jo. You want to stab that prig, don't you ? 
 And you well know that I never had any liking for him. 
 But now let me tell you that I myself, for days and for weeks, 
 have wanted to do the same thing." 
 
 "What!" exclaimed Johannes, in astonishment. 
 
 Marjon hid her face and said: "It is the truth, Jo. Not 
 him, of course, but . . . bother." 
 
 "You do not mean it, Marjon," said Johannes, indignantly. 
 
 "I am in earnest, Jo. I am not even sure whether I came 
 into her service for that very reason, or for a better one." 
 
 "My God! How frightful!" exclaimed Johannes, deeply 
 moved. 
 
 "There you are — alarmed and probably angry. Nat- 
 urally you think her lovely, and are fond of her. And I am 
 ashamed of myself — heartily ashamed." 
 
 Again they were silent, and in both those young heads 
 were many turbulent thoughts. 
 
 "And do you know what helped me most to give it up? 
 Not fear of punishment, nor of judgment, for I dreaded noth- 
 ing so much as, worst of all, that she might succeed in getting 
 you. But it helped me when I thought how much you loved 
 her, and how you would cry and suffer if you should see her 
 lying dead." 
 
 Again they looked at each other, steadily and frankly, and 
 their eyes were dimmed with tears. Then said Marjon: 
 
 "And now, Jo, think of this. I care nothing about that
 
 4o6 THEOUEST 
 
 man, nor do you; and doubtless he would not be a great loss. 
 But to her he would be, and indeed if you should kill him, you 
 W'ould bring it about that she would see him dead, and would 
 have to cry. Do you wish to do that ?" 
 
 Johannes' eyes opened wide, and he looked into the lamp- 
 
 "Yes," said he, deliberately. " He deceives her and she 
 deceives herself. He is altogether different from what she 
 fancies." 
 
 Then Marjon, taking both hands from the table, and rest- 
 ing them upon Johannes' arm, said with rising voice: 
 
 " But Jo, Jo — indeed everything is different from what 
 we think! Who can see just how and what people and things 
 are ? I thought that woman hateful, and you thought her 
 lovely. You think that fellow odious, while she thinks him 
 charming. Really, only the Father, knows how things are. 
 Believe me, the Father only. We are poor, poor creatures. 
 We know nothinr;: — nothlno;." 
 
 Then, resting her head, with its fair, fine hair, upon his arm, 
 she sobbed bitterly; and Johannes, now completely broken 
 down and mollified, wept with her. 
 
 Then they heard a door open in the hall. Probably, in 
 their agitation, they had been talking too loudly. 
 
 Marjon took flight. In a moment of less excitement she 
 would have been too shrewd for that. Johannes did indeed 
 (|uickly put out the light, but he saw, through the crack of the 
 door, that some one with a candle was standing in the hall. 
 There was a meeting, and Johannes overheard a brief ex- 
 change of angry words, in vehement, suppressed tones. 
 
 The last he understood was: "To-morrow morning you 
 eave.
 
 XIV 
 
 About the time all this was taking place, something else oc- 
 curred which most of you will readily recall. It happened at 
 the time the King and Queen were married. 
 
 That was a time of many processions, when arches of honor 
 were erected in all the squares, and when there arose, every^ 
 where, the peculiar odor of spruce-boughs and of burning 
 illuminants. 
 
 And the life of the King and Queen was far different from 
 that of Little Johannes. They had to be decked often with 
 beautiful clothes, and then as often to be undressed, to parade, 
 to sit in state, to listen to wearisome harangues, to live through 
 long dinners, and to be forever bowing and smiling. Such 
 was their life. 
 
 To Johannes all this excitement and these joyful festivities 
 seemed but a motley background against which his own sombre 
 trouble was all the more sharply in relief. Although every- 
 body was concerned about the King and Queen, and no one at 
 all about Little Johannes, he yet found himself and his own 
 sorrow none the less important. 
 
 You are aware that these festivities lasted for several weeks, 
 and took place in every town in the land. In the evening of 
 the day about which I last told you, there was a great display 
 of fireworks on the beach, and Johannes, with the entire 
 household, went to see it. 
 
 And there, in the midst of all that crowding and shouting, 
 he had, for the first time, a chance to speak with the beloved 
 friend who had caused him so much suffering. Marjon he 
 had not seen, and he knew not if she was gone; but the coun- 
 tess seemed as friendly and as cheerful as ever, and she had 
 not questioned him. 
 
 On the terrace from which they watched the golden columns 
 rush skyward with a hiss, and the "pin-wheels" sizzle and 
 
 407
 
 4o8 THEQUEST 
 
 fizz, accompanied by the "a-a-a-ahs!" of admiration from 
 the dark, moving mass of people — there, he ventured in an 
 undertone to speak to her. 
 
 "What did you really think of me yesterday, Mevrouw ?" 
 
 "Well," replied the countess, rather coldly, continuing to 
 look at the fireworks, "you have not come up to my expecta- 
 tions, Johannes." 
 
 "What do you mean? Why not?" asked Johannes, sick 
 at heart. 
 
 "Oh, you know very well. I was aware that you had plain 
 connections, and were not descended from a distinguished 
 family; but I hoped to make that good, in some degree, 
 through my own influence. Yet I had not thought you so 
 ordinary as that." 
 
 "But what do you mean ?" 
 
 The lady cast a disdainful glance upon him. 
 
 "Would you care to hear it spoken, word for word? 
 Liaisons, then — with inferiors. And at your age, too. How 
 could you ?" 
 
 In a flash Johannes comprehended. 
 
 "Oh, Mevrouw — but you mistake — completely. I am 
 not in the least enamored of that girl, but formerly she was 
 my little comrade, and she thinks a great deal of me. She 
 saw that I was unhappy yesterday, and then she came to 
 sympathize with me." 
 
 "Sympathize?" asked the countess, hesitatingly, and 
 not without irony, of which Johannes, however, was un- 
 conscious. 
 
 "Yes, Mevrouw. But for her, I should have done 
 desperate things. She prevented me. She is a brave 
 girl. 
 
 Then he told her still more of Marjon. 
 
 Countess Dolores believed him, and became more friendly. 
 In that caressing voice which had caused Johannes so much 
 unhappiness, and which even now completely fascinated him, 
 she asked:
 
 THE QUEST 
 
 409 
 
 "And why were you so desperate, my boy?" 
 
 "Do you not understand? It was because of what you 
 told me yesterday." 
 
 She understood well enough, and Johannes thought it 
 charming in her to be willing to listen so kindly. But al- 
 though she felt flattered she pretended not to know what he 
 meant — as if such an idea were unthinkable. 
 
 "But how can that make you feel so desperate, my boy? 
 I have not said, however, that you must leave my house on 
 account of it." 
 
 "If that should take place, Mevrouw, do you fancy that I 
 could remain with you ? Did you think I could endure that ? 
 But it is not going to be, is it ? It was only a jest. Tell me 
 that it was! You were only teasing me! Tell me that you 
 were only teasing me!" 
 
 It was all too clear now, and she could dissemble no longer. 
 Half in kindness, half in compassion, she said: 
 
 "But, my boy, my boy, what has got into your head ?" 
 
 Johannes rested his hand on her arm, and asked, implor- 
 ingly: 
 
 "You were not in earnest, were you?" 
 
 But she freed her arm gently, saying: 
 
 "Yes, Johannes, I was in earnest." 
 
 And now he knew that he was hoping against hope. 
 
 "Is there no hope for me ?" 
 
 The countess smilingly shook her head. 
 
 "No, dear boy, not the least. Put the thought quite away 
 from you." 
 
 The last of the rockets rushed up with a startling hiss, to 
 burst in the black sky with a soft puff, and expire in a shower 
 of brilliant sparks. Then it was all over. The band played 
 "Wilhelmus of Nassau," and the dark throng surged and 
 pressed more vehemently, while on all sides the street-boys 
 whistled shrilly and shouted to one another: "J-a-a-a-n!" 
 and "Gerret!"
 
 4IO THEOUEST 
 
 Johannes, stunned by renewed pain, passed on through the 
 cheering Hke one deafened and stupefied. 
 
 His hostess, now full of sympathy, said: 
 
 "Do you remember, Johannes, what we promised Father 
 Canisius ? He was to teach you who Jesus is, was he not ? 
 Will you go to church with me to-morrow ? That will best 
 console you." 
 
 A wicked thought passed through Johannes' head. He 
 wished to ask a question, but he could not utter the hated 
 name. 
 
 "Is any one else going?" 
 
 "Yes, the man to whom I am engaged. He also is now 
 convinced that peace is only to be found in the Holy Church. 
 He is Catholic, as are myself and my children." 
 
 Johannes said not another word that evening; but he 
 slept more peacefully than the night before.
 
 XV 
 
 The church was full when Johannes, with the entire family, 
 entered it. He and the others were in their best attire, and 
 Van Lieverlee had on a very long black coat and a high hat. 
 As he passed in he removed his hat respectfully, and his 
 white face, now smoothly shaven, wore a serious, even stern, 
 expression. 
 
 It was cool and dark and solemn in the building. The rays 
 of the sun, in passing through the window-glass, were tinged 
 with yellow and blue, and cast queer fleckings over the faces 
 and forms of those who stood waiting or were securing seats. 
 The fragrance of incense floated about the altar, and the organ 
 was playing. It was not really an old church, but, with its 
 paintings and floral adornments, was beautiful enough to 
 move Johannes to tenderness; for he felt so sad and dis- 
 heartened, listening to the solemn music in that richly-colored 
 twilight, that he had to make an effort to keep from sobbing. 
 
 Father Canisius, smiling kindly, and with priestly serious- 
 ness in face and tread, although not yet in his robes, stopped 
 on his way to the sacristy to speak with them. Johannes 
 could feel his sharp, penetrating look through the thick glasses 
 of his spectacles. 
 
 "You see. Father," said the countess, "we have come to 
 seek Jesus. Johannes, also." 
 
 "He is waiting for you," replied the priest, solemnly, point- 
 ing out the great crucifix above the altar. Then he disap- 
 peared in the sacristy. 
 
 Johannes immediately fastened his eyes upon that figure, 
 and continued to contemplate it while the people were taking 
 their places. 
 
 It hung in the strongest light of the shadowy church. Ap- 
 parently it was of wood stained a pale rose, with peculiar blue 
 and brown shadows. The wounds in the side and under the 
 
 411
 
 412 THEOUEST 
 
 thorns on the forehead were distinct to exaggeration — all 
 purple and swollen, with great streaks of blood like dark-red 
 sealing-wax. The face, with its closed eyes, wore a look of 
 distress, and a large circle of gold and precious stones wag- 
 gishly adorned the usual russet-colored, cork-screwy, woodeny 
 locks. The cross itself was of shining gold, and each of its 
 four extremities was ornamented, while a nice, wavy paper 
 above the head bore the letters I. N. R. I. One could see that 
 it was all brand-new, and freshly gilded and painted. Wreaths 
 and bouquets of paper flowers embellished the altar. 
 
 For a long time — perhaps a quarter of an hour — Johannes 
 continued to look at the image. "That is Jesus," he mut- 
 tered to himself, "He of whom I have so often heard. Now 
 I am going to learn about Him, and He is to comfort me. He 
 it is who has redeemed the world." 
 
 And however often he might repeat this, trying seriously 
 to convince himself — because he would have been glad to be 
 convinced and also to be redeemed — he could nevertheless 
 see nothing except a repulsive, ugly, bloody, prinked-up 
 wooden doll. And this made him feel doubly sorrowful and 
 disheartened. Fully fifteen minutes had he sat there, looking 
 and musing, hearing the people around him chatting — about 
 the price they had paid for their places, about the keeping on 
 or taking off of women's hats, and about the reserved seats for 
 the first families. Then the door of the sacristy opened, and 
 the choir-boys with their swinging censers, and the sacristan, 
 and the priests in their beautiful, gold-bordered garments, 
 came slowly and majestically in. And as the congregation 
 kneeled, Johannes kneeled with them. 
 
 And when Johannes, as well as all the others, looked at the 
 incoming procession, and then again turned his eyes to the 
 high altar, behold! there, to his amazement, kneeling be- 
 fore the white altar, he saw a dark form. It was in plain sight, 
 bending forward in the twilight, the arms upon the altar, and 
 the face hidden in the arms. A man it was, in the customary 
 dark clothes of a laborer. No one — neither Johannes nor
 
 THE QUEST 413 
 
 probably any one else in the church — had seen whence he 
 came. But he was now in the full sight of all, and one could 
 hear whisperings and a subdued excitement run along the 
 rows of people and pass on to the rear, like a gust of wind over 
 a grain-field. 
 
 As soon as the procession of choir-boys and priests came 
 within sight of the altar, the sacristan stepped hastily out of 
 line and went forward to the stranger, to assure him that, 
 possibly from too deep absorption in devotion, or from lack of 
 familiarity with ecclesiastical ceremony, he was guilty of 
 intrusion. 
 
 He touched the man's shoulder, but the man did not stir. 
 In the breathless stillness that followed, while every one ex- 
 pectantly awaited the outcome, a deep, heart-rending sob was 
 heard. 
 
 "A penitent!" "A drunken man!" "A convert!" were 
 some of the whispered comments of the people. 
 
 The perplexed sacristan turned round, and beckoned Father 
 Canisius, who, with impressive bearing, stepped up in his 
 white, gold-threaded garb, as imposingly as a full-sailed frig- 
 ate moves. 
 
 "Your place is not here," said the priest, in his deep voice. 
 He spoke kindly, and not particularly loudly. "Go to the 
 back of the church." 
 
 There was no reply, and the man did not move; yet, in the 
 still more profound silence, his weeping was so audible that 
 many people shuddered. 
 
 "Do you not hear me ?" said the priest, raising his voice a 
 little, and speaking with some impatience. "It is well that 
 you are repentant, but only the consecrated belong here — 
 not penitents." 
 
 So saying, he grasped the shoulder of the stranger with his 
 large, strong hand. 
 
 Then, slowly, very slowly, the kneeling man raised his head 
 from his arms, and turned his face toward the priest. 
 
 What followed, perhaps each one of the hundreds of wit-
 
 414 THEOUEST 
 
 nesses would tell differently; and of those who heard about 
 it later, each had a different idea. But I am going to tell you 
 what Johannes saw and heard — heard quite as clearly as 
 you have seen and heard the members of your own household, 
 to-day. 
 
 He saw his Brother's face, pale and illumined, as if his 
 head were shone upon by beams of clearest sunlight. And 
 the sadness of that face was so deep and unutterable, so 
 bitter and yet so gentle, that Johannes felt forced, through 
 pain, to press both hands upon his heart, and to set his teeth, 
 while he gazed with wide, tear-filled eyes, forgetting everything 
 save that shining face so full of grief. 
 
 For a time it was as still as death, while man and priest 
 regarded each other. At last the man spoke, and said: 
 
 "Who are you, and in whose name are you here.^" 
 
 When two men stand thus, face to face, and address each 
 other with all earnestness in the hearing of many others, one 
 of them is always immediately recognized to be the superior 
 — even if the listeners are unable to gauge the force of the 
 argument. Every one feels that superiority, although later 
 many forget or deny it. If that dominance is not very great, 
 it arouses spitefulness and fury; but if it is indeed great, it 
 brings, betimes, repose and submissiveness. 
 
 In this case the ascendancy was so great that the priest lost 
 even the air of authority and assurance with which he had 
 come forward, and did that for which, later, he reproached 
 himself — he stopped to explain: 
 
 "I am a consecrated priest of the Triune God, and I speak 
 in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ — our Saviour and 
 Redeemer." 
 
 There ensued a long silence, and Johannes saw nothing but 
 the shining, human face and the eyes, which, full of sorrow 
 and compassion, continued to regard the richly robed priest 
 with a bitter smile. The priest stood motionless, with hang- 
 ing hands and staring eyes, as if uncertain what next to say 
 or do; but he listened silently for what was coming, as did
 
 THEQUEST 415 
 
 Johannes and all the others in the church — as if under an 
 overpowering spell. 
 
 Then came the following words, and so long as they sounded 
 no one could think of anything else — neither of the humble 
 garb of him who spoke, nor of the incomprehensible subjec- 
 tion of his gorgeously arrayed listener: 
 
 " But you are not yet a man! Would you be a priest of the 
 Most High ? 
 
 "You are not yet redeemed, nor are these others with you* 
 redeemed, although you make bold to say so in the name of 
 the Redeemer. 
 
 "Did your Saviour when upon earth wear cloth of silver 
 and of gold ? 
 
 "There is no redemption yet — neither for you nor for any 
 of yours. The time is not come for the wearing of garments 
 of gold. 
 
 "Mock not, nor slander. Your ostentation is a travesty of 
 the Most High, and a defamation of your Saviour. 
 
 "Do you esteem the kingdom of God a trifle, that you array 
 yourself and rejoice, while the world still lies in despair and in 
 shackles ? 
 
 "So plays a little girl with a doll, and calls herself a mother. 
 She tosses and pets and prinks her little one, but it is all 
 wood and paint and bran. And the real mother smiles — 
 she who knows the anguish and the gladness. 
 
 "But you abandon the naked, living child for the bediz- 
 ened doll. And the mother sheds tears of blood. 
 
 "Like peacocks, you strut through your marble churches, 
 glittering in tinsel; but you let the kingdom of God lie 
 like an uncleansed babe upon unclean linen — naked and 
 languishing. 
 
 "And the Devil delights in your churches, your masses, and 
 prayers and psalms — your treasure and fine linen; for the 
 child lies naked at your back door, with the dogs, and it 
 wails for its mother. 
 
 "Weep — as do l\ Weep bitter tears — for that child is
 
 4i6 THE QUEST 
 
 two thousand years old. And still it lies, unwashed and un- 
 cherished. 
 
 "Why do you vaunt your consecration, and prate of your 
 Redeemer ? Your Holy One still toils beneath His grievous 
 cross, yet all your splendid churches have you built upon that 
 heavy cross. 
 
 "You bear the mitre of Persians, and Egyptians, and the 
 tabard of the Jews. And you also make use of the scourge 
 wherewith the Jews did scourge Him. 
 
 "They bound and spat upon — they scourged and cruci- 
 fied and speared Him; but for two thousand years you have 
 been roasting Him before a slow fire — before the fire of your 
 lies and misrepresentations; of your treachery and arrogance; 
 of your cruelties and perversions; of your pomp and oblations; 
 of your transgressions, and of your attacks upon and strivings 
 against the God who is Truth. 
 
 "You are commanded to serve your Father in spirit and in 
 truth, and you have served Him with the letter and with lies. 
 
 "His prophets, who loved the truth better than their lives, 
 you have burned at the stake, and have made them martyrs. 
 
 "Yet you have bent your proud neck to the world which you 
 affect to despise. In the name of the Father you have burned 
 and imprisoned sages; but at last you were forced to eat the 
 bread of their wisdom, for the knife of the scornful was at 
 your throat. 
 
 "The world you have disdained and denounced is wiser 
 than you — more beautiful and even more holy. 
 
 "Black as the raven — black as the beetles, the moles, the 
 creatures that live in the slime — black and vile, you burrow 
 your secret way through the clear, bright world. But in your 
 churches you enthrone yourselves and parade like kings — in 
 violet and yellow and purple, and gold brocade. 
 
 "You were not commanded to found a kingdom solely for 
 yourselves — a kingdom of the sacred and the elect in a world 
 of the unholy and immature. 
 
 "You were commanded to spread abroad the kingdom of
 
 THE QUEST 417 
 
 God over the whole earth — over all that weep and are op- 
 pressed. 
 
 "You were not commanded to despise the world and to 
 forsake it, but you were commanded to hallow the world. 
 
 "You rend the world in twain, speaking of the sanctified 
 and the unsanctified. Your Saviour lived among thieves, and 
 died between murderers, nevertheless he promised them 
 Paradise. 
 
 "Not until every man is sanctified, until every day is a holy 
 day, and every house a House of God — not until then may 
 you speak of redemption, and array yourself in white and 
 gold. 
 
 "Woe unto you, forsakers of the world! Was not the world 
 bestowed upon you by the Father as the noblest and most 
 precious gift of the dearest of friends ^ 
 
 "How dare you despise it? 
 
 "Will you openly preserve the penny of your enemy, and 
 reject the noblest gift of the Most High ? 
 
 "Do you speak in the name of the Triune God ? But you 
 have smitten the Father's face — you have martyred the Son, 
 and the Holy Ghost have you violated. 
 
 "You have been told that God is Truth. Yet you have 
 striven against the truth with torture-tongs, with dungeons, 
 and with burnings at the stake. 
 
 "You have made the Son of man an object of ridicule — a 
 shield for lying and violence, a pretext for strife and bloodshed, 
 a monstrous idol. 
 
 "And of all sins, the worst is the sin against the Holy Ghost 
 — which is the bread that you eat, and the water wherein you 
 swim. 
 
 "You shackle and restrain the Spirit. This is of all sins 
 the worst, and this you know. 
 
 "Where God alone may reign — in the free human heart — 
 there you establish yourselves with your laws and dogmas, 
 your writings and your imageries. 
 
 "Think you, madman, that the wisdom of the Eternal
 
 4i8 THEOUEST 
 
 can he comprised within the Hmits of written or printed 
 pages ? 
 
 "To Him your sacred books are as cobwebs and sweepings; 
 for He Hves and moves eternally, and book nor brain can 
 compass Him. Like to flowing water, you are told, is the 
 wisdom of God. Forever changing, forever the same, no 
 finite word can picture His progressive wisdom. 
 
 "There is more of the Father's wisdom in the shy, faltering 
 whisper of a poor heathen child, than in all your bulls and 
 councils and decretals. 
 
 "Would you put a tube to the lips of the Father, that He 
 may speak at your pleasure ? Yet will He speak as seems 
 best to Himself. 
 
 "Would you point with the finger and say to Him: 'Here! 
 These shall speak in thy name, and to these shalt thou give 
 wisdom, and these shalt thou inspire with understanding, 
 and these shalt thou save, and these condemn!' 
 
 "But He will reply: 'There!' and will regard your point- 
 ings even as the lava of a volcano regards the guide-posts and 
 little crosses on the slopes. 
 
 " But your opinions and your pride are avenged, for the 
 world commands you as the hunter his hound, as the show- 
 man his monkey. You pull the carriage of prince and mon- 
 ied man, and make grimaces before the powerful. 
 
 "They build you churches, and you say masses for them, 
 although they be Satan himself. 
 
 "The world is sanctified without you, and you sanctify 
 yourselves because of the world. 
 
 "That your Popes are not more dissolute, your prelates 
 more prodigal, and your friars more slothful, is because the 
 world has constrained you. But you have constrained the 
 world to no purpose. 
 
 "You have set yourself against the usurer, but the world 
 will practise usury, and you practise usury with the world. 
 Thus are you the ape and the servant of the world. 
 
 "Where you have rivals, you show yourself discreet; but
 
 THE QUEST 
 
 419 
 
 where you are without competitors, there as ever you corrupt 
 the land. 
 
 "You follow after the world, as a captive shark follows a 
 sailing ship. You turn and twist, but the world points out 
 the way — not yon. 
 
 "Like a kettle tied by mischievous boys to the tail of a dog, 
 so do you rattle with hollow menaces behind the course of the 
 world. You scare, but do not guide. 
 
 "Yes, you strive against the sanctifying of the world, foi 
 with your hands you would conceal the godlike fire of 
 knowledge; but the flame bursts through your fingers, and 
 consumes you. 
 
 "What have you done for the sheep committed to your care 
 — for the poor and bereaved — for the oppressed and the 
 disinherited ? 
 
 "Submission you have taught them — ay — submission to 
 Mammon. You have taught them to bow meekly to Satan. 
 
 "God's light — the light of knowledge — you have with- 
 held from them. Woe be to you! 
 
 "You have taught them to beg, and to kiss the rod that 
 smote them. You have cloaked the shame of alms-receiving, 
 and have prated of honor in servitude. 
 
 "Thus have you humbled man, and disfigured the human 
 soul. 
 
 "With the fruit of their hands you have decorated your 
 churches and adorned your unworthy bodies. 
 
 "You have aroused the devil in the heart — the devil of 
 fear — fear of hell and everlasting punishment. The aspira- 
 tion of the free heart toward God you have deadened; and 
 with indulgences and the confessional have you lulled the 
 waking conscience. 
 
 "Of the love of the Father you have made commerce — a 
 sinful merchandise. Not because you love virtue do you 
 preach it, but because of the sweet profit. You promise de- 
 liverance to all who follow your counsel; but as well can you 
 make a present of moon and stars.
 
 420 T H E O U E S T 
 
 "Are you not told to recompense evil with good? And is 
 God less than man that He should do otherwise ? 
 
 "It is well for you that He does not do otherwise, for where 
 then were your salvation ? 
 
 "For you, and you only, are the brood of vipers against 
 whom is kindled the wrath of Him who was gentle with adul- 
 terers and murderers." 
 
 While speaking, the man had risen to his full height, 
 and he now appeared, to all there assembled, impressively 
 tall. 
 
 When he had spoken, reaching his right hand backward he 
 grasped the foot of the great golden crucifix. It snapped off 
 like glass, and he threw it on the marble floor at the feet of the 
 priest. The fragment broke into many bits. It was appar- 
 ently not wood, but plaster. 
 
 "Sacrilege!" cried the priest, in a stifled voice, as if the 
 sound were wrung from his throat. His eyes seemed to be 
 starting out of his great purple face. 
 
 The man quietly replied: 
 
 "No, but my right; for you are the sacrilegist and the 
 blasphemer who makes of the Son of man a hideous 
 caricature." 
 
 Then the priest stepped forward, and gripped Markus by 
 the wrist. The latter made no resistance, but cried in a loud 
 voice that reverberated through the church: 
 
 "Do your work, Caiaphas!" 
 
 After that he suffered himself to be led away to the sacristy. 
 
 While the congregation still sat, spellbound and motion- 
 less, Johannes hastily writhed his way out between the benches 
 and the throngs of people. 
 
 Father Canisius returned, now quite calm and far less red. 
 And while the sacristan with broom and dust-pan swept up 
 the fragments and put them into a basket, the priest turned 
 toward the audience and said;
 
 THE QUEST 421 
 
 "Have sympathy with the poor maniac. We will pray for 
 him." 
 
 After that, the service proceeded without further disturb- 
 ance.
 
 XVI 
 
 In. a dreary district of the city, at the end of a long, lonely 
 street, stands a long, gloomy building. The windows — all 
 of the same form — are of ground glass, and the house itself 
 is lengthened by a high wall. What lies behind this wall the 
 neighbors do not know; but sometimes strange noises are borne 
 over it — loud singing, yelling, dismal laughter, and monoto- 
 nous mutterings. 
 
 On the steps of this house, silent, and with earnest faces, 
 stood Johannes and Marjon. The latter had on a simple, 
 dark gown, and she carried Keesje on her arm. 
 
 The door was opened by a porter wearing a uniform-cap. 
 The man gave them, especially the monkey, a critical, hesi- 
 tating look. 
 
 "That will not do," said he, drily. "You must leave 
 your little ones at home when you come here to make 
 visits." 
 
 "Come," said Marjon, without a smile at his jest, "ask the 
 superintendent. My brother is so fond of him, and I do not 
 dare leave him at home." 
 
 • They had to wait awhile in the vestibule. At first they 
 said not a word, and Keesje was very still. 
 
 Then, scratching Keesje's head, Johannes quietly remarked, 
 "He has grown thin." 
 
 "He has a cough," said Marjon. 
 
 At length the doorkeeper came back, with the superintend- 
 ent. Johannes instantly recognized in the tall, spare gentle- 
 man, the slovenly black suit, the gold spectacles, and the 
 bushy white hair, his old friend Dr. Cijfer. 
 
 "Whom have they come to see ?" he asked. 
 
 "The new one who was brought in yesterday — working- 
 class," said the doorkeeper. 
 
 "Violent?" asked the doctor. 
 
 422
 
 THE QUEST 423 
 
 "No, quiet, Doctor. But they want to take their monkey 
 with them." 
 
 "Why so, young people ?" asked Dr. Cijfer, frowning at the 
 monkey over the top of his spectacles in a most objectionable 
 manner, to the discomfiture of Keesje. 
 
 "Doctor Cijfer, have you forgotten me ?" asked Johannes. 
 
 "Wait," said the doctor, giving him a sharp look, "are you 
 the boy who assisted me some time ago, and then ran away ? 
 Your name, indeed, was Johannes, was it not.?" 
 
 "Yes, Doctor." 
 
 "Ah, yes," said the doctor, reflecting. "A rather queer 
 boy, with some talent. And there is a brother of yours here ? 
 I always thought there were hereditary moments in your fam- 
 ily. You were a queer boy." 
 
 "But it can't do any harm if our monkey goes with us, 
 Doctor," said Marjon. "He is quite still and obedient." 
 
 Slowly shaking his head, the doctor made a prolonged 
 " m-m-m " with his compressed lips, as if to say that he did not 
 himself think it so hazardous. 
 
 "I have not yet seen the patient. We will ask the junior 
 physician if he may receive callers. But only ten minutes — - 
 not longer, mind." 
 
 Dr. Cijfer vanished with the doorkeeper, and again the 
 trio waited a considerable time. 
 
 Then the doorkeeper returned with a man-nurse in white 
 jacket and apron. The latter led them down long halls, 
 three times unlocking different doors and gratings with the 
 key that he carried in his hand, until it seemed to Johannes as 
 if they were pressing deeper and deeper into realms of 
 error and constraint. 
 
 But it was still there — sadly still — not, as Johannes had 
 expected it to be, noisy with ravings. Now and then a patient 
 in a dark blue uniform came toward them, carrying a pail or a 
 basket. He would look back at them suspiciously, and then 
 go farther on, softly muttering. 
 
 At last they came to a dismal reception-room with a little
 
 424 THEQUEST 
 
 wooden table and four rush-seated chairs. It was Hghted 
 from above, and there was no outlook. There they were left 
 by themselves in painful suspense. 
 
 After what again seemed to be a very long time a different 
 door of the same little room was opened by another nurse ; 
 and then, at last, Little Johannes could rest again on the 
 bosom of his beloved brother. 
 
 But even before Johannes could reach him, Keesje had 
 sprung to his shoulder and received the first greeting. 
 
 "Hey, Markus, do you greet Kees before you do us?" 
 said Marjon, laughing through her tears. 
 
 "Are you jealous ?" asked Markus. "He has become such 
 a good comrade of mine. " 
 
 Drawing Keesje up to him, he sat down, while Johannes and 
 Marjon kneeled, one on each side. The two young people 
 regarded him a long while without saying anything; yet it did 
 them good. 
 
 "Only ten minutes," sighed Johannes, "and I have so 
 much to ask and to say." 
 
 "Do not be uneasy," said Markus. "I shall not be here 
 
 long." 
 
 "Is it not frightful here ?" asked Marjon. 
 
 "It is the most sorrowful place on earth. But it is without 
 deceit; and I am happy here, for I can do much to comfort." 
 
 " But it is fearfully unjust to put you here, with crazy folks," 
 said Marjon. "Those miserable creatures!" and she clenched 
 her slender little hand. 
 
 "It is only a small part of the great wrong. They act 
 according to their understanding." 
 
 "Markus," said Johannes, "I want to ask you this: I 
 saw poor Helene in the kingdom of the Evil One. Do you 
 know whom I mean ? You do ? What does that signify .'' 
 And will she be saved ?" 
 
 "I know whom you mean, Johannes; but do not forget that 
 we are all in the kingdom of the Evil One. Only in the heart 
 of the Father are we free. The Father allows Waan to have
 
 THEQUEST 425 
 
 power over all who are away from Him — even over 
 me." 
 
 " But not for ever, Marlcus." 
 
 " How can that which is evil avail for ever? The melan- 
 choly seem to be the chosen ones. The burden they bear is a 
 precious one, but only if they realize that it is of the Father. 
 Then it sanctifies; otherwise it crushes. Some learn this 
 first through death, as did Helene." 
 
 "Markus," said Marjon then, "we both have had such 
 wicked things in our heads. Shall we ever be forgiven them V 
 
 "Tell me about them," said Markus. "I know indeed, 
 but yet tell me." 
 
 "We have wanted to murder, out of jealousy — he and 
 . . . and I." 
 
 "That is the way with stags and buffaloes and cocks," said 
 Markus. "They kill one another on account of their love. 
 The strongest survives, and feels not the least remorse. And 
 he is forgiven. " 
 
 "But we are human, Markus," said JoKannes. 
 
 "That is fine, dear Johannes, that you should say it of your- 
 self. And yet you have not murdered anybody, have you.?" 
 
 "No, but I have wanted to." 
 
 "Truly and with all your heart?" 
 
 "Not that way," said Johannes. 
 
 "No, for in that case you would not now be asking forgive- 
 ness. Forgiveness is already there, because insight is forgive- 
 ness." 
 
 The two disciples were silent, and looked at him thought- 
 fully through half-closed eyes. At last Marjon said: 
 
 " But then if we had done it we would have been forgiven 
 all the sooner; for then we should have perceived the sooner 
 that it was wrong." 
 
 "You would then have experienced the desire for, and the 
 satisfaction in, the deed, and have lost the fear of it. That 
 would have been two more fetters for you, with the power to 
 understand reduced."
 
 426 THEOUEST 
 
 "But yet there are things which we have to do in order to 
 know that they are wicked," said Johannes. 
 
 "Are there such things?" asked Markus. "Well, then, do 
 them; but do not complain if the lesson is a hard one. There 
 are children, also, who do not believe their parents when they 
 tell them that fire will burn, and that burns are painful. And 
 yet such children cry if they burn themselves." 
 
 "But why is it so intolerable to think that another will 
 obtain that which we hold dear? Is that wicked?" asked 
 Marjon. 
 
 " It is not wicked to long for love or power or honor, when 
 those things are our due because of our being wise and good. 
 But that which he covets comes not to the jealous one, nor 
 power to him who thirsts for it, nor honor to the over-ambitious. 
 The things longed for will not satisfy them. Nor are eating 
 and drinking bad in themselves, but they are only for those 
 who have need of them." 
 
 At that moment the door was unlocked. As it swung open 
 the nurse said that the time was up, adding: 
 
 " Perhaps you may come again to-morrow." 
 
 "Will he have to stay here?" asked Marjon, as they were 
 on their way down the long hall. 
 
 " Well," replied the nurse, " they may indeed shut up 
 quite a lot more. He can deal with the violent ones bet- 
 ter than the professor can. There was one here who gave 
 us a lot of trouble, because he wouldn't eat. He'd thrown 
 his plate at me head. Look here! What a cut! But your 
 brother had him eating inside often minutes." 
 
 "Will he soon be free?" asked Johannes. 
 
 "They ought to make him a professor," was the reply. 
 "I've heard they're to examine him to-morrow." 
 
 Little was said while Johannes was accompanying Marjon 
 to the boarding-house in which she now lived. It was kept 
 by one of Markus's friends, a workman in the iron foundry. 
 The man was called Jan van Tijn, and was foreman of the
 
 THEQUEST 427 
 
 hammer-works. He earned sixteen guldens a week, and had 
 nine children. His dwelling had three small rooms and a 
 kitchen, and there twelve persons had to sleep — father, 
 mother, nine children, and the boarder. But JufFrouw van 
 Tijn was still young, with a fresh face and a pair of strong 
 arms, and she made light of her work. 
 
 " If there are to be still more of us," said Jan, " we must 
 begin to lie in a row — spoon-fashion." 
 
 Jan had a long blonde moustache and a pair of shrewd 
 eyes, and his manner of speech was coarse — terribly so. 
 Marjon slept in the little kitchen, and, as Jan's eldest girl was 
 not yet sixteen, Marjon could be of great service in the family. 
 
 "Did you get him out?" asked Jan, who had come in his 
 working-blouse to meet them. And when they shook their 
 heads, he began cursing, tremendously. 
 
 "Well ! Did ye ever see such scoundrels? I'd like 
 
 to pitch into the loons! Can't that perfesser see that Markus 
 knows more in his little finger than the whole scurvy lot of 
 them — patients, doctors, perfessers, and all ? And because 
 he's given the priest a dressing-down, and broken an image 
 worth a nickel, must he be shut up in a mad-house ? 
 Well ! ! !" 
 
 Jan was furious, and proposed, with the aid of a sledge- 
 hammer, to convince the learned gentlemen that they had 
 made a blunder. 
 
 "He is to be examined to-morrow," said Johannes, thinking 
 to calm him. 
 
 But Jan retorted scornfully, "Examined! Examined! 
 I'll examine their own cocoanuts with a three-inch gimlet! 
 If anything comes out but sawdust I hope to drop dead." 
 
 He said much more that I will not repeat. 
 
 Johannes stayed away from the Villa Dolores the entire 
 day, for it was too dreary for him there. He would now far 
 rather be in this poor household with its many children. He 
 noticed how the young mother managed her uproarious little 
 troop, how constantly and cheerfully busy she was the whole
 
 428 THEQUEST 
 
 day long — bearing, and getting the better of, difficulties which 
 would have dismayed and discouraged many another. 
 
 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 won- 
 derfully at peace. He had not known such peace in a long 
 time. Very little was said. Outside, the twilight was fall- 
 ing; 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 intol- 
 erable air of being the rightful lord of the manor. Johannes 
 merely wanted to bid them good-night. 
 
 "Have you found your poor friend V 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?"
 
 THE QUEST 429 
 
 "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 door- 
 keeper. " The doctor wishes to speak with you. The pro- 
 fessor 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 f 
 
 In the tiresome, pompous quarters of the doctor, with 
 its bookcases draped in green, its white gypsum busts of 
 Galenus, Hippocrates, and other old physicians, sat two dark- 
 coated gentlemen. They were vis-a-vis, each in an office- 
 chair, and deep in conversation. 
 
 On the large writing-table lay several open books, and 
 some shining white metal instruments for measuring and 
 examining. 
 
 "Sit down, my friend," said Professor Bommeldoos, in his 
 loud voice and brusque manner. "We all know one another, 
 do we not ? We have already made an examination to- 
 gether." 
 
 Johannes silently took a seat. 
 
 "Let me explain to you, Johannes," said Dr. Cijfer, in more 
 soft and moderate tones. "We — Professor Bommeldoos and 
 I — have been charged by the judicial commission to make a 
 medical investigation of the mental condition of your brother. 
 He has committed a crime — not a heavy one, but yet not with- 
 
 430
 
 THEQUEST 431 
 
 out significance, and one for which he ought to have been 
 placed under arrest. Yet the clergyman thought him irre- 
 sponsible, and summoned a physician from the asylum. 
 Your brother simply would not reply to the latter. He was 
 stubbornly silent." 
 
 Johannes nodded. He knew it already. 
 
 "That was the reason for his being temporarily secluded 
 here. Now I have seen the patient myself once, but I am 
 sorry to have to say that I can get no further than the other 
 physician. When I interrogate him he looks at me in a very 
 peculiar way, and remains silent." 
 
 "I do not understand, Colleague," said Bommeldoos, 
 "why you did not instantly diagnose this as a symptom of 
 megalomania." 
 
 "But, worthy Colleague," replied Dr. Cijfer, "he does talk 
 with the nurses and his fellow patients, and he is obliging and 
 ready to help. They all wish him well — yes, they are even 
 singularly fond of him." 
 
 "All of which comports very well with my diagnosis," said 
 Bommeldoos. 
 
 "Does he often have those whims, Johannes," asked Dr. 
 Cijfer, "when he will not speak ?" 
 
 "He has no whims," said Johannes, stoutly. 
 
 "Why, then, will he not reply ?" 
 
 "I think you would not answer me," returned Johannes, 
 "if I were to ask you if you were mad." 
 
 The two learned men exchanged smiles. 
 
 "That is a somewhat different situation," said Bommel- 
 doos, haughtily. 
 
 "He was not questioned in such a blunt manner as that," 
 explained Doctor Cijfer. "I asked about his extraction, his 
 age, the health of his father and mother, about his own youth, 
 and so forth — the usual memory promptings. Will you not 
 give us some further information concerning him ? Remem- 
 ber, it is of real importance to your brother." 
 
 "Mijnheer," said Johannes, "I know as little as yourself
 
 432 THEOUEST 
 
 about all that. And even if I knew more I would not tell you 
 what he himself thought best not to tell." 
 
 "Come, come, my boy," said the professor, "are you try- 
 ing to make sport of us .■* Do you not know whence you 
 came ? Nothing of your parents, nor of your youth .''" 
 
 Johannes hesitatingly considered whether or not he 
 should do as Markus had done, and answer no questions 
 whatever. But still he might reply to those that concerned 
 only himself. 
 
 "I do, indeed, know all that about myself, but not about 
 him," said he. 
 
 "Then you are not brothers?" asked the doctor. 
 
 "No, not in the sense you mean." 
 
 Dr. Cijfer looked at Bommeldoos as if to see what bethought 
 of this reply. Then he touched a bell-button, saying: 
 
 "It seems to me. Colleague, that we might better see him 
 face to face. We can then, perhaps, get on better than when 
 apart." 
 
 Bommeldoos nodded solemnly, and passed his hand over 
 his mighty forehead. A servant came in. 
 
 "Will you bring the patient Vis from the ward of the calm 
 patients, working-class?" 
 
 "Very well. Doctor." 
 
 The servant vanished, and for several minutes afterward it 
 was as still as death in the study. The two learned men 
 stared at the carpet quite absorbed in thought — not minding 
 delay — after the manner of deep thinkers. Johannes heard 
 the clock ticking on the mantel, the faint music from an out- 
 of-doors band playing a merry march, the sound of hurrahs, 
 and the clatter of horses' hoofs on the cobblestone pavement. 
 The royal wedding-festivities were still in progress, and Jo- 
 hannes could mentally see the two people who at that moment 
 were bowing and waving as they sat in their carriage. There 
 was a knock at the door. The nurse came and said, "Here 
 Is the patient." Then he let Markus in, remaining himself 
 to look on.
 
 THEQUEST 433 
 
 "I will ring for you," said Dr. Cijfer, with a gesture. The 
 nurse disappeared. 
 
 Markus had on a dark-blue linen blouse, such as all the 
 patients of the working-class wear. He stood tall and erect, 
 and Johannes observed that his face was less pale and sad 
 than usual. The blue became his dark curling hair, and 
 Johannes felt happy and confident as he looked at him — 
 standing there so proud and calm and handsome. 
 
 "Take a seat," said Dr. Cijfer. 
 
 But Markus seemed not to have heard, and remained stand- 
 ing, while he nodded kindly and reassuringly to Johannes. 
 
 "Observe his pride," said Professor Bommeldoos, in Latin, 
 to Dr. Cijfer. 
 
 "The proud find pride, and the gloomy, gloom; but the 
 glad find gladness, and the lowly, humility," said Markus. 
 
 Dr. Cijfer stood up, and took his measuring instrument 
 from the table. Then, in a quiet, courteous tone, he said: 
 
 "Will you not permit us, Mijnheer, to take your head meas- 
 ure ? It is for a scientific purpose." 
 
 "It gives no pain," added Bommeldoos. 
 
 "Not to the body," said Markus. 
 
 "There is nothing in it to offend one," said Dr. Cijfer. "I 
 have had it done to myself many a time." 
 
 "There is a kind of opinionativeness and denseness that 
 offend." 
 
 Bommeldoos flushed. "Opinionativeness and denseness! 
 Mine, perchance ? Am I such an ignoramus ? Opinion- 
 ated and stupid!" 
 
 "Colleague!" exclaimed Dr. Cijfer, in gentle expostulation. 
 And then, as he enclosed Markus's head with the shining crani- 
 ometer, he gave the measurement figures. A considerable 
 time passed, nothing being heard save the low voice of the 
 doctor dictating the figures. Then, as if proceeding with his 
 present occupation, taking advantage of what he considered a 
 compliant mood of the patient, the crafty doctor fancied he 
 saw his opportunity, and said:
 
 434 THEQUEST 
 
 "Your parents certainly dwelt in another country — one 
 more southerly and more mountainous." 
 
 But Markus removed the doctor's hand, with the instru- 
 ment, from his head, and looked at him piercingly. 
 
 "Why are you not sincere?" asked he then, with gentle 
 stress. "How can truth be found through untruth ?" 
 
 Dr. Cijfer hesitated, and then did exactly what Father 
 Canisius had done — something which, later, he was of the 
 opinion he ought not to have done: he argued with him, 
 
 "But if you will not give me a direct reply I am obliged to 
 get the truth circuitously." 
 
 Said Markus, "A curved sword will not go far into a straight 
 scabbard." 
 
 Professor Bommeldoos grew impatient, and snapped at the 
 doctor aside in a smothered voice: "Do not argue, Colleague, 
 do not argue! Megalomaniacs are smarter, and sometimes 
 have subtler dialectic faculties, than you have. Just let me 
 conduct the examination." 
 
 And then, after a loud "h'm! h'm!" he said to Markus: 
 
 "Well, my friend, then I will talk straight out to you. 
 It is better so, is it not ? Then will you give me a direct 
 reply ? " 
 
 Markus looked at him for some time, and said: "You can- 
 not. 
 
 "I cannot! Cannot what?" 
 
 "Talk," replied Markus. 
 
 "I cannot talk! Well, well! I cannot talk! Colleague, 
 you will perhaps take note of that. You say I cannot talk. 
 What am I now doing?" 
 
 "Stammering," said Markus. 
 
 "Exactly — exactly! All men stammer. The doctor stam- 
 mers, and I stammer, and Hegel stammers, and Kant 
 stammers. ..." 
 
 "They do," said Markus. 
 
 "Mijnheer Vis, then, is the only one who can talk. Is it 
 not so ?"
 
 THE QUEST 435 
 
 "Not with you," replied Markiis. "In order to talk one 
 must have a hearer who can understand." 
 
 Dr. Cijfer smiled, and whispered, not without a shade of 
 irony, "Take care, Colleague! You also err in dialectics." 
 But Bommeldoos angrily shook his round head with its bulb- 
 ous cheeks, and continued: 
 
 "That is to say that you consider yourself wiser than all 
 other men ? Note the reply. Colleague." 
 
 "I think myself wiser than you," said Markus. "Decide 
 yourself whether this means wiser than all other men." 
 
 "I have made a note of the reply," said Dr. Cijfer, while a 
 sound of satisfaction came from his pursed-up lips. 
 
 Yet the professor took no notice of these ironical remarks, 
 and proceeded: 
 
 "Now just tell me, frankly, my friend, are you a prophet ? 
 An apostle ^ Are you perhaps the King ? Or are you God 
 himself?" 
 
 Markus was silent. 
 
 "Why do you not answer now ?" 
 
 "Because I am not being questioned." 
 
 "Not being questioned! What, then, am I now doing?" 
 
 "Raving," said Markus. 
 
 Again Bommeldoos flushed, and lost his composure. 
 
 "Be careful, my friend. You must not be impertinent. 
 Remember that we may decide your fate here." 
 
 Markus lifted his head, with a questioning air, so earnest 
 that the professor held his peace. 
 
 "With whom rests the decision of our fate ?" asked Markus. 
 Then, pointing with his finger: "Do you consider yourself 
 the one to decide ?" 
 
 Both of the learned ones were silent, being impressed for 
 the moment. Markus continued: 
 
 "Why do not you now reply? And would you have de- 
 cided otherwise had I not been what you term impertinent?" 
 
 Here Dr. Cijfer interposed: 
 
 "No, no, Mijnheer, you mistake. But it is not nice of you
 
 436 THEOUEST 
 
 to offend a learned man like the professor here. We are per- 
 forming a scientific task. You impress us as being a person 
 of refinement and advancement, aside from the question of 
 your being ill or not. For all that, it behooves you to have 
 respect for science, and for those who are devoting all their 
 efforts and even their lives to its development." 
 
 "Do you knov\^," asked Bommeldoos, in a voice now near 
 to breaking, "do you know what the man whom you have 
 scoffed at as opinionated, stupid, and a ranter — what that 
 man has written and accomplished .'' " 
 
 Then Markus's stern features relaxed, assuming a softer, 
 more companionable expression, and he took a chair and sat 
 down close beside his two examiners. 
 
 "Look," said he, showing both of his open palms, "your 
 naked sensibilities protrude on all sides — from under the 
 cloak of your wisdom. How otherwise could I have touched 
 you r 
 
 "Your wisdom — so much greater — does not, however, 
 make you invulnerable to our opinion and stupidity," said Pro- 
 fessor Bommeldoos, still tartly, indeed, but yet with far more 
 courtesy. 
 
 "The most high wisdom of God does not make Him invul- 
 nerable to our sorrows and sins," returned Markus. "Wis- 
 dom is a covering which makes its wearer not insensible to 
 suffering, but able to support it." 
 
 "Forever that speaking in metaphor!" exclaimed Bommel- 
 doos. "Figures of speech do not instruct. A weak and 
 childish mind always makes use of metaphors. Science de- 
 mands pure speech, and logical argument." 
 
 "Forgive me if I offend still further," said Markus, gently 
 now and kindly, as he laid his hand on the black cloth envelop- 
 ing the arm of the professor, "but it is exactly your own weak- 
 ness that you cannot question. Science is the light of the 
 Father. Why should not I respect it ? And I know also 
 what you have written and accomplished. But the most 
 you did was to question imperfectly, and then to assume the
 
 THEQUEST 437 
 
 complete reply. That one should find it so difficult and 
 unsatisfactory to reply amazes you, because you do not real- 
 ize the imperfection of your questions. But the finest and 
 clearest responses — those that are most satisfying and intelli- 
 gible to all — await those who have learned better how to 
 question. If I esteem mySelf wiser than you, it is solely be- 
 cause I realize that we have nothing but metaphors, and that 
 we must patiently and unpretendingly decipher as a commu- 
 nication from the Father the meaning of all these metaphors. 
 While you imagine that, from your words and documents, one 
 may comprehend His living Being." 
 
 "With your permission," interrupted the professor. "You 
 seem not to have read what I have written concerning the 
 logical necessity of an incomprehensible basis for reality. 
 Did you consider me such a dunce as not to have perceived 
 that?" 
 
 "To speak of things is not necessarily to understand them," 
 replied Markus. "And so to speak of them is proof of not 
 understanding." 
 
 "I know very well what the human mind can compass, and 
 what not; and in my last work, 'On the Essence of Matter,' I 
 think I have defined the utmost to which the human mind 
 can attain," said Professor Bommeldoos. 
 
 "So did the Egyptians place the farthest reaches of the 
 earth at the first falls of the Nile, to which the river was 
 said to have flowed from heaven. And thousands and thou- 
 sands of years passed away before they ventured to step 
 beyond that boundary. And now the world is beginning to 
 fraternize, and men to co-operate — now the barriers of the 
 world are being removed to infinite distance. Who then 
 shall term that which the human intellect can grasp, the ex- 
 treme limit ?" 
 
 "There remains a barrier, constituted by our material 
 structure, just as there is a barrier because of our confine- 
 ment to this terrestrial ball which we cannot leave," declared 
 Professor Bommeldoes, loudly and oracularly, encircling his
 
 438 THEQUEST 
 
 chin with his hand, as was his habit when in learned discus- 
 sions. He seemed to have quite forgotten that he had before 
 him a patient for examination. 
 
 "You read the book of life from the end toward the begin- 
 ning," said Markus, "and see the world upside down. Why 
 do you babble of a dead dust which would establish a limit to 
 the life of the soul ? But all matter is made of living thought, 
 and nothing is lifeless, or formed without life. Mountains 
 and seas are thoughts of the earth; and planets and suns, and 
 all life, are the thoughts of God. The stone at your feet seems 
 to you dead; but neither does the ant that creeps over your 
 hand perceive the life of it. You have built up your own 
 body — " 
 
 "Out of existent material," cried the professor. 
 
 "There is nothing existent as the effect of other life, that you 
 cannot search into. And the operations of your life meet on 
 all sides the counter-influences of other lives. But all is spirit 
 and life. Shall, then, a builder say that the house he has built 
 defines the boundary outside of which he cannot go?" 
 
 "But a race like the human race preserves its permanent 
 characteristics," interpolated Dr. Cijfer. 
 
 "Why do we term permanent the creatures of one day? 
 There is nothing permanent, and there are no persistent races. 
 Life is a flowing water, a flaming fire — never the same from 
 one second to another. But in your ignorance you make 
 fixed definitions, write dead words and dead books, and im- 
 agine that you understand the things that live." 
 
 There was an instant of silence. Then Markus added: 
 
 "You have yourselves created death, and placed the barriers. 
 Your words are diseased and rotten; and with those words 
 you would analyze life. Would you perform an operation 
 with unclean knives ? But with your dead words you cut into 
 life, and thus spread death." 
 
 Another silence, and then: 
 
 "Purify your thoughts and your words. Put away that 
 which is impure — that is, the superfluous. Make a science
 
 THEQUEST 439 
 
 of words, as you have made a science of the stars — as exact 
 and as sacred. 
 
 "Through co-operation and fellowship among scholars you 
 have created a system of relations called mathematics. Make 
 also such a system of significations, for you miss your mark 
 with words, and fail to find that life which is the most beautiful 
 and exquisite, as children miss the moths they would catch 
 with their caps and with bags. And through co-operation 
 and fellowship you shall create a demand, the response to 
 which shall ring out like a revelation and an evangel — full, 
 joyous, marvelous." 
 
 Markus ceased speaking, and gazed as though into the far 
 distance. For a while they all waited, respectfully, to see if 
 he was going to say more, for they had been listening eagerly. 
 
 Then Dr. Cijfer said, in a gentle tone: "Your views are 
 surely worthy of consideration. Neither did I make a mis- 
 take when I thought you a person of advancement and refine- 
 ment. But let me remind you that we are here for the purpose 
 of making a medical examination. Without doubt you will 
 
 now indeed reply to the simple questions that I shall put to 
 
 >> 
 you. 
 
 Markus, throwing a glance and a smile to Johannes, who 
 had been listening with breathless attention, said to the learned 
 men: 
 
 "I spoke not for you; that were fruitless. I spoke for 
 him." 
 
 After that he uttered not a word. Dr. Cijfer questioned 
 with gentle stress. Professor Bommeldoos with vehement 
 energy; but Markus was silent, and seemed not to notice that 
 there were others in the room. 
 
 "I adhere to my diagnosis. Colleague," said Bommeldoos. 
 
 Dr. Cijfer rang, and ordered the nurse to come. 
 
 "Take the patient to his ward again. He will remain, for 
 the present, under observation." 
 
 Markus went, after making a short but kindly inclination of 
 the head to Johannes.
 
 440 THEQUEST 
 
 "Will you not tell us now, Johannes, what you know of this 
 person?" asked Dr. Cijfer. 
 
 "Mijnheer," replied Johannes, "I know but little more of 
 him than you do yourself. I met him two years ago, and he 
 is my dearest friend; but I have seen him rarely, and have 
 never inquired about his life nor his origin." 
 
 "Remarkable!" exclaimed Dr. Cijfer. 
 
 "Once again, Colleague, I stand by my diagnosis," said 
 Bommeldoos. "Initial paranoia, with megalomaniacal symp- 
 toms, on the basis of hereditary inferiority, with vicarious 
 genius."
 
 XVIII 
 
 In all this time the King and Oueen were not yet married. 
 That was the way of things in such lofty circles. They were 
 still to attend many more banquets, to listen to many more 
 speeches, and to make a great many more bows. I should 
 judge, indeed, that they were just about half-way through. 
 
 And while most of the people acted as if they thought the 
 ceremonies proper and pleasant, and took their part in the 
 celebrations, there were others, who met to say that they were 
 not altogether pleased. Such gatherings are called "indigna- 
 tion meetings." Of course they do not protest against the 
 marriage of those two people — they have nothing to say 
 against that — but only against the prolonged ceremonials. 
 They consider the banquets, the fine array, the wine-drinking 
 and the feasting occasioned thereby, both costly and unneces- 
 sary. They also consider the maintenance of a king and 
 queen costly and unnecessary. 
 
 Such an opinion is, indeed, very uncommon, if not un- 
 heard of; for you remember that even the creatures of the 
 pond into which Johannes dived with Windekind had found 
 the need of a king who could eat a great deal. So, when Jan 
 van Tijn and his wife got ready to attend that indignation 
 meeting, Johannes wished to accompany them; for he was 
 curious to hear what would be said there. 
 
 Like Marjon, Johannes was now in a boarding-house. He 
 was with some friends of Jan — a worthy couple without 
 children — who kept a total-abstinence coffee-house. The 
 man was named Roodhuis, and he was tall and stout. He had 
 a large, forceful face, light-colored eyes, and a small, fair 
 moustache. He said little, and had a great dislike of alcohol 
 and of soldiers. His wife, too, seldom spoke, but was very 
 kindly and industrious. Through their little business they 
 made a livelihood, and no more. They were interested in 
 
 44»
 
 442 THEQUEST 
 
 everything that concerned the labor movement, and received 
 in their small assembly-place all of the leaders and speakers 
 prominent in the struggle. In that little hall, too, choir 
 rehearsals v^ere held, and little plays were given — as often as 
 possible, adverse to w^ar and to alcohol, and in favor of the so 
 ardently desired Freedom and Fraternity. 
 
 Here Johannes found board and lodging, for w^hich he did 
 not need to pay, because he lent a helping hand in the w^ork of 
 the place. 
 
 He had just been having a hard experience: he had bidden 
 his little friends good-by. Although they had grown larger 
 and stronger, and were therefore no longer so tender and del- 
 icate as when he first saw them, yet the parting was full of 
 sadness. 
 
 "Why do you go away, Johnny, and where are you going 
 to live?" they asked. 
 
 "I am poor, and must work to earn my bread," replied 
 Johannes. 
 
 "Oh, but Mama will give you money — will you not. 
 Mama ? And you can always eat and live here. Then you 
 will not need to work," said Olga. 
 
 "You can have half of my share of oatmeal every time," 
 said Frieda; "I get more than I want, though." 
 
 "No, children," said the mother, "it is not nice nor well 
 to live upon what one gets from another, without working 
 one's self. That is parasitism, and sinful before God. Jo- 
 hannes knows this, and being poor he is good to wish to work." 
 
 "Well, then, dear Johnny," said Olga, "I shall pray 
 that God will make you rich quickly — as rich as we are; 
 and then you will not need to work, and will come back again." 
 
 "I don't think it nice of God to make Johnny poor and us 
 rich," said Frieda, pouting. 
 
 "Fie, Frieda, you must not say that," said Mevrouw. 
 And then Johannes went away swiftly and bravely before the 
 tears came. 
 
 Later, he heard that Van Lieverlce, whom he had not bidden
 
 THEQUEST 443 
 
 good-by, had told everybody that Johannes had left in a pet 
 to live with some proletarians because of his having been 
 repeatedly rebuked by himself on account of his excessive 
 vanity. 
 
 In the little public room of the total-abstainers' coffee- 
 house, "The Future," a large circle of congenial spirits sat 
 waiting. Jan van Tijn was there, his wife, an infant, and the 
 oldest girl. Marjon was there also, a neighbor having vol- 
 unteered to care for the other Van Tijn children. Besides 
 those named, there were about twenty other men and women 
 in the little hall with its dirty, dingy hangings. On small 
 tables in front of the visitors were cups of tea and chocolate. 
 Many mothers had brought their infants. There was a 
 dearth of talking and a deal of smoking; for it would have 
 been too much, at the outset, to put a ban upon both alcohol 
 and tobacco. 
 
 "Well, what did they find with their examination ?" asked 
 Jan van Tijn, as Johannes entered the smoky hall. 
 
 "He is not free yet," replied Johannes, "but he talked 
 with them so finely and sanely they are bound to let him go." 
 
 "Good!" said Jan. 
 
 "Come here, Jo. Here's a cup of comfort for you, then," 
 said Vrouw Roodhuis. 
 
 "But all the same," cried a man with a hoarse voice, a 
 sallow face, and black beard, dressed in a brown Manchester 
 suit, with a loose scarf around his sweater, and a pair of sandals 
 on his bare feet, "you needn't think he will be set free. As 
 soon as you begin to oppose that pest of hypocrites, you'll have 
 the whole crew at your throat. That sort knows it all, every 
 time — whether it be the pastor, or the dominie, or the general, 
 or the professor — always the same pack; and if they once 
 get you into their clutches you never get out again, whether 
 in jail or in the madhouse or in the hospital; you never 
 get out till they've given you a good start toward kingdom- 
 come."
 
 444 
 
 THE QUEST 
 
 "Are they goin' to poison 'im ?" asked a woman, in alarm. 
 "What with? Ratsbane?" 
 
 "They'll poison him, for sure," answered the man in brown, 
 "or they'll nag him to death, or starve him. They have 
 methods and tricks enough — the villains!" 
 
 It was scarcely half-past eight o'clock yet, and the indigna- 
 tion meeting was to begin at nine. So it was proposed to 
 shorten the time with recitations and singing. And this was 
 done. First some one sang alone — the song of a poor con- 
 script who was forced to go to war, and had conscientious 
 scruples about it. Then they all sang a song of freedom. 
 
 After that, a very young typographer recited, with great 
 fervor, a poem describing the way the Jews made merry at 
 the crucifixion of Jesus on Golgotha; how they even took 
 their little children with them, and hoped the anguish would 
 be prolonged, that they might have the more pleasure. 
 
 The description of that cruelty, vehemently expressed, made 
 a deep impression, and they sat listening with open mouths 
 notwithstanding that they had heard it many times before. 
 When it was over they all stamped uproariously on the floor. 
 
 At that moment the door opened, and Markus stood at the 
 threshold of the httle hall. 
 
 "Hurrah!" cried Johannes; and the others, who had just 
 before been shouting "Hurrah for Golgotha!" now shouted 
 "Hurrah for Markus!" They were all greatly excited and 
 glad to see him free. 
 
 "Good-evening," said Markus, without giving token, himself, 
 of being particularly glad. He wore again his customary 
 workman's suit. From all sides hands were held out to 
 him. 
 
 "I hadn't thought it," said Jan, "that they'd let you out of 
 their clutches again. How did you manage it ?" 
 
 " Let 'im have something to eat, first," said Vrouw Rood- 
 huis. "Aren't you hungry, man? You couldn't have been 
 in clover there. " 
 
 "I shouldn't have had any appetite with all those mad folks
 
 THEQUEST 445 
 
 about," remarked another woman. "And then, too, when 
 they wanted to poison you!" 
 
 "Yes, I am hungry," said Markus. And then bread and 
 milk were given him. 
 
 "Why did you come here again V asked Marjon. 
 
 Markus replied simply, "I had something more to say." 
 
 After he had eaten, he asked, "Is there a meeting to- 
 night? Who called it?" 
 
 "The politicians," replied the young typographer. 
 
 "Felbeck wants to be President of the Republic," said the 
 man in brown. 
 
 "Is there to be a debate?" asked Markus. 
 
 "Listen! Hakkema is coming, too. Oh, there'll be a 
 racket!" said Jan. 
 
 "You might say a little something, too, Markus," said 
 Roodhuis. " You must give that confounded military set a 
 good thrashing, just such as you give the pious." 
 
 " I never have given the pious a ' thrashing,' " said Markus. 
 
 "That's a damn shame I " said the man with the sandals. 
 " Religion is the root of all evil." 
 
 "No, it's militarism," said Roodhuis. 
 
 "No, alcohol," said the young typographer. 
 
 "Neither of them! It's eating meat that does it," said a 
 pale, slim little woman, not yet twenty. "First you slaughter 
 animals, then you eat them, then you drink, and then you mur- 
 der and steal. One thing leads to another." 
 
 "So long, I say, as the people let themselves be taxed and 
 fleeced by kings and priests, so long as they bow to a boss — 
 whether they call him patron or God makes no diff"erence — 
 so long shall we remain in misery." 
 
 "Now, Markus," said Jan, "put in an oar yourself. You 
 know better how to pull than the rest of 'em, I should say." 
 
 "Well, I will tell you a story," said Markus, "if you will 
 promise to remember it, and not ask an explanation." 
 
 "Why not an explanation?" asked the man in brown. 
 "What does that mean ? Is it a riddle ?"
 
 446 THEQUEST 
 
 "I would just as soon be silent," said Markus. 
 
 "Come, now, Markus, pitch in! We won't ask you any 
 more than you want to tell us." 
 
 "Listen, then," said Markus; and he began his story in a 
 tone which constrained them all to silence. 
 
 "Once there were some field-laborers who were very poor 
 — so poor that when they were asked how, with all their chil- 
 dren, they could make both ends meet, they replied, 'The 
 churchyard helps us out.' 
 
 "They had a rich landlord, and there was an abundance of 
 land. But they were obliged to work so long every day, and 
 so many days in succession, that they had no time to learn any- 
 thing — not even the best way to plow and sow and reap. 
 They did only the work they were bidden to do. So they 
 remained dull because they were poor, and poor because they 
 were dull. It seemed as if it would stay thus until eternity. 
 
 "But the landlord grew richer and richer, through the toil 
 of his many laborers, and according to the increase of his 
 wealth did he become more covetous and dissolute and in- 
 dolent. And he demanded that his laborers work still harder 
 because his desires were greater. 
 
 "But that they could not do. And the help of the church- 
 yard was so very great that they were filled with fear. 
 
 "Then, through their great need, there came to one of them 
 a little spark of light, and he said to the others: 'Brothers, 
 this is all wrong. At this rate we shall very soon perish our- 
 selves. We have hungered long enough. Let us slay him 
 and seize the treasure we have collected for him.' 
 
 "That seemed to the others a good plan, and they wondered 
 they had not thought of it before. Thereupon they slew the 
 rich landlord, and divided his wealth. But, because he had 
 lived a prodigal life, and since they themselves knew not the 
 best way to plow, to sow, and to reap, they were in a short 
 time still poorer than before. 
 
 "Then the son of the landlord, who had escaped, returned 
 to them, and said:
 
 THEQUEST 447 
 
 " 'You see it was stupid of you to kill your master, for now 
 you are bound to starve, because you cannot manage for your- 
 selves.' 
 
 "Then they replied: 'Be to us then a better master, and we 
 will let you live.' 
 
 "And the son of the landlord, who had the knowledge of 
 his father, directed their work. And he became rich, and 
 they remained poor — so poor that the churchyard had to 
 help, although not to the former extent. Yet was there land 
 in abundance. 
 
 "But the spark of knowledge which that extreme need had 
 awakened continued to shine, and that one laborer said to his 
 fellow-workers: 'Brothers, still is it not well, for, although we 
 do not yet die ourselves from want, our children die. And al- 
 though it is not right to slay one's lord, why should it be right 
 to make him so rich that he becomes idle and lewd and wan- 
 ton ? We labor hard, and our toil enriches him. But he 
 saves nothing. When we struck down his father we did not 
 find enough to feed us for a week. We must not suffer this, 
 for our wives and children can live upon what he wastes.' 
 
 "Then said another: 'We have no need of the landlord, 
 but of his knowledge. For when we had slain our lord we 
 found ourselves no richer. Nor had we the skill to create new 
 wealth. Therefore are we even more miserable than before.' 
 
 "At that, a third one said: 'Lacking our labor, must 
 he die; but without his knowledge we must starve. Let us 
 go to him, and say that we will not give him our labor unless 
 he give us his knowledge. If he refuse, then we shall die 
 with him; if he assent, then we shall all live.' 
 
 "This the laborers did. And the young landlord, fearful 
 lest he die, taught all who asked him with what they must 
 fertilize the land, and what to sow, and how to irrigate, and 
 all the secrets of tilling the soil, so that they might live. And 
 he also gave to every one that asked it some land to cultivate, 
 and a handful of grain. 'For my forefathers also began with 
 no more than this,' said he.
 
 448 THEQUEST 
 
 "Then some of them took the handful of grain and ate it up, 
 because they were so poor and so greedy. And they squan- 
 dered away their piece of land, and asked not for the knowl- 
 edge wherewith to till it. 
 
 "But others, accepting the knowledge, cultivated their 
 piece of land with the mouthful of grain. But because they 
 had for so long suffered a scarcity they were overjoyed at the 
 harvest. And those — the first — who had again become 
 poor, they pressed into their service. So each became a 
 landlord, and they each gave to the first landlord a share of 
 what was theirs. Thus the first landlord remained very rich, 
 while the others were even richer, and the very poorest 
 remained as miserable as before. All that resulted was the 
 renewal of slothfulness, prodigality, and killing. And the 
 churchyard had to keep on helping. 
 
 "But the spark of knowledge, once lighted, continued to 
 burn, and one laborer said to the others: 'Brothers, still it 
 is not well, for we remain unhappy beings. The rich are un- 
 happy through their over-abundance, and the poor through 
 their poverty. What, then, shall be done that it be otherwise ?' 
 
 "Then said another: 'Brothers, we have taken away from 
 our landlord both his power and his knowledge. We have 
 no further need of him. But what master is it then of whom 
 we have need ? For we are as miserable as before. ' 
 
 "Then said another: 'Brothers, we still need a master, but 
 one who will teach us wisdom and charity; for is it not igno- 
 rance through which some have eaten up their seed-grain; and 
 a lack of charity that has caused others to waste all their har- 
 vest, and compelled the poorest to serve them ?' 
 
 "Then they chose a master who taught them wisdom and 
 charity, and that master said: 'You shall not give full pos- 
 session of the land, for it is lent to all; and of your harvest 
 shall you not — you and your household — consume more 
 than is good for your health. And all the surplus shall you 
 sow again; for there is land enough. And no man shall work 
 for another who can himself work and yet does not.'
 
 THEOUEST 449 
 
 "And they did according to this command. And under 
 that master they founded a realm of plenty that was called 
 'Freedom.'" 
 
 Markus was silent, and so for a while were his listeners. 
 At last, the man in the brown suit said: 
 
 "Well, now, but they might have done that just as well 
 without master or mandate." 
 
 "Say, Markus," said Jan van Tijn, "if you happen to know 
 of such a gentleman, just quietly set me down on the waiting 
 list. My word for it, if he's boss, I'll not go on a strike," 
 
 "Well, heaven help us! Are you an anarchist ?" asked the 
 other. "You throw the whole principle overboard." 
 
 Jan just glanced at him. "I don't hear anything fall yet," 
 said he, drily. And then, looking to right and left at his 
 neighbors: 
 
 "D'ye hear anything.'"' 
 
 The company laughed. Markus, looking earnestly at him, 
 said: 
 
 "You can at once enter that service, Jan, as can every one." 
 
 "What a silly gull!" said he in the brown suit.
 
 XIX 
 
 On the way to the Assembly-room they passed the Royal 
 Residence. The windows were a blaze of Hght, for another 
 banquet had just been held, and the marriage was thus brought 
 a step nearer. The lackeys looked down at the thronging 
 multitude, and smiled disdainfully. In front of the palace, 
 erect upon their horses, their carbines at their hips, sat the 
 hussars. The people shouted. They wanted to see the bridal 
 pair do some more bowing. 
 
 And, verily, after a while, open flew the balcony doors, and 
 out came the King and Queen — for all the world like the 
 cuckoo of a clock at the stroke of the hour; and there they 
 bowed and bowed — many times more than the hours that 
 were struck by the clock. Thus the crowd had its will, and 
 shouted to hearts' content. At the same time Johannes also felt, 
 distinctly, a thrill of enthusiasm, although it was mingled with 
 pity; for it did seem as if the crowd found delight in keeping 
 those two poor people bowing, without asking if they had the 
 least desire to do so, so soon after dinner, and after a busy day. 
 
 At the indignation meeting it was very warm and crowded. 
 People stood packed at the entrance. Inside, above a haze 
 of tobacco smoke. Dr. Felbeck could be seen sitting at a table 
 covered with green. In front of him were a black hammer, 
 a carafe, and glasses. The table stood on a little stage between 
 side-scenes that represented a forest by moonlight. 
 
 There was a great deal of bustle and noise in the hall. 
 Above the clamor rose the cries of the colporteurs reiterat- 
 ing the virtues of their weeklies and pamphlets: "Buy the 
 Pathfinder — three cents!" "Throne, Exchange and Altar; 
 or the Robber Conspiracy Unmasked — one cent!" "Hy- 
 pocrisy; or the Source of all Depravity — one cent!" 
 "Who are the Murderers.'' — two cents!" 
 
 450
 
 THEQUEST 451 
 
 Dr. Felbeck looked around the hall, casting piercing, frown- 
 ing glances, like a general surveying the field of battle. At 
 times he chatted with the associate chairman who sat beside 
 him, apparently about this or that advocate or opponent 
 whom he observed in the hall. At times, also, he nodded 
 smilingly to some one in the audience. 
 
 The doors were closed, and no one else was permitted to 
 enter. A few helmeted policemen took their stand at the 
 entrance. 
 
 The chairman — a spruce young gentleman — after straight- 
 ening his eye-glasses, grasped with his left hand the old 
 speaker's hammer, rapped upon the table with it, and spoke a 
 few words. Gradually it grew more still. Then Dr. Felbeck 
 stood up, resting upon the table with both hands — his head 
 between his shoulders like a cat about to make a spring. 
 Then, rising to his full height, and glancing several times at his 
 audience — challenging, and certain of success — he began: 
 "Comrades!" 
 
 The speech lasted an hour and a half. What he said ac- 
 corded very well with that which Johannes had heard him 
 say when they first met. The downtrodden proletarian must 
 in the end gird himself against the oppressor — against the 
 rotten civic society, against the gentry of the safety-box, who 
 are supported by the soldiers, assisted by priests, and repre- 
 sented by the Crown. The people must become conscious 
 of their power, for the people are the source of all wealth, and 
 to the people belongs the future. If only the laborers would 
 act in unison, they would be able to make the laws. They 
 were by far the majority. They might compose the Parlia- 
 ment, command the military, possess the collective wealth. 
 Then they could make better laws, and could take from the 
 rich their unmerited privileges. Then would come a time of 
 real liberty and fraternity. 
 
 Thereupon Dr. Felbeck made an estimate of the number 
 of guldens a minute that the King had to spend; adding the
 
 452 THEQUEST 
 
 statement that whole families of laboring men must live for a 
 week upon no more. He showed how many people must 
 work hard, continually, to pay for all that festivity and mag- 
 nificence. He showed in detail how the rich live, and what 
 splendor was theirs; and he claimed that such beauty and 
 pleasure were the right of each and all. And with tears in 
 his voice, he told them how, with his meagre wages, the poor 
 wage-earner must make both ends meet. 
 
 He said the laborer must learn to hate his enemy, and not 
 let himself be deluded by oily-tongued preachers of peace who 
 were paid by the rich; for then he would surely remain in his 
 misery. And yet, in the end, they must certainly have a 
 share of the pleasure — they who had heretofore always come 
 out of the little end of the horn. 
 
 All that Dr. Felbeck said was listened to with avidity. The 
 listeners grew more and more attentive, and the speaker more 
 and more vehement. There were frequent outbursts of laugh- 
 ter from the audience, and the hall trembled with the stamp- 
 ing of feet and the clapping of hands. Sometimes there was 
 cheering to the echo. And when the speaker ended — with 
 a fiery, well-turned clause in which all were urged to join the 
 International Social Democratic Labor-Party — Grand Army 
 of Laborers — there followed such an uproar that Johannes 
 lost all sense of sight and hearing. 
 
 His duty done, the speaker sat down, yet he looked 
 around with some anxiety at the succeeding speakers. 
 
 Again the hammer sounded: "Would any one like to add 
 a few words ?" 
 
 Three — four — hands went up. 
 
 "Hakkema has the floor." 
 
 "Oh, indeed!" said Jan. "Now for a Punch-and-Judy 
 session!" 
 
 Hakkema was a small, stocky man, with long hair combed 
 straight back to his neck. His voice was rough and harsh 
 from much speaking, and as he spoke he dropped his head 
 back, in such a way that his shaggy beard stuck out in
 
 THE GUEST 
 
 453 
 
 front. He began very softly, almost hesitatingly — appar- 
 ently to flatter the former speaker. But very speedily the 
 audience observed — what every one had expected — ■ that he 
 was deriding him. His deep voice grew steadily louder and 
 rougher, and his jokes tarter and tougher. Part of the audi- 
 ence, carried away, and agog for fresh taunts, burst out 
 in loud, insulting laughter, while another part enlivened itself 
 by hissing and whistling, and by shouts of derision. 
 
 The irony chiefly concerned the fact that the former speaker 
 termed himself a proletarian, while at the same time he owned 
 a villa at Driebergen, and had a son preparing to be a lawyer. 
 Of course, he appeared to be quite disinterested and would 
 fight for the people, if only the people would be so good as to 
 send him to the House of Representatives, with a salary of 
 forty guldens a week. Certainly, if the King should make 
 Dr. Felbeck Minister to-morrow, with a salary of eight thou- 
 sand guldens, Dr. Felbeck would accept it out of sheer self- 
 sacrificing devotion to the people. And then the laborer 
 could demand audience of Dr. Felbeck, and ask why the por- 
 tion on the table of the laborer should still remain so small, 
 and also when the general national distribution would begin. 
 
 After a half-hour of such talk, the speaker ended with a 
 stimulating appeal for a purified class struggle in which no 
 little lords among the proletarians should be tolerated, and in 
 which — pointing at Dr. Felbeck, who, smiling scornfully, sat 
 sharpening a lead-pencil — the wolves in sheeps' clothing should 
 be restrained; a struggle in which war should be declared, not 
 only against all tyranny, all coercion, but also against the 
 despotism of party; a struggle in which there should be strife 
 until men had a free society where each might take what he 
 pleased, without lords, without bosses, without safety-boxes, 
 without gods, and without laws. 
 
 The applause for this speaker was none the less thunder- 
 ing, mingled, however, with shrill whistlings, and cries of 
 "Throw him out!" 
 
 But Felbeck was a match for the man. With furious ges-
 
 454 THEOUEST 
 
 tares and banging of his fists on the green-covered table, he 
 called his opponent a deceiver of the people, a man without 
 judgment or conscience, an enemy of the laborer, a sower of 
 discord who would never bring anything to pass save disorder 
 and confusion. 
 
 The audience grew more and more excited. Ten, twenty 
 speakers at once, stood up in their places. Angry words 
 were shouted back and forth. Everybody thought it time to 
 say something. The women grew nervous, and the policemen 
 looked at their chief as if only awaiting a signal to put an end 
 to the row. 
 
 All this time, Markus, without having made a sign either 
 of approval or of censure, had been sitting between Marjon 
 and Johannes, with the family of Van Tijn. 
 
 "Have you been listening, Markus?" asked Marjon, for 
 it seemed to her as if his thoughts were elsewhere. But he 
 nodded "Yes." 
 
 "Say something, then," said Marjon. 
 
 "Yes, do," urged Johannes. "Tell them which one is 
 right." 
 
 "Speak out, Markus. The one who knows ought to tell," 
 said Van Tijn. 
 
 "That is not easy to do," said Markus. Then he stood up. 
 
 His figure now, as always, riveted attention, and the adroit 
 leader of a tumultuous meeting felt instantly to whom he 
 must yield the floor in order to re-establish calm. 
 
 Thus Markus' first words rang out, amid the lessening up- 
 roar, as in a subsiding storm. And as he spoke it finally grew 
 very still. But there was no sign either of assent or of dis- 
 agreement. 
 
 "There are fathers and mothers here," said Markus, "who 
 know what spoiled children are. The spoiled child that is 
 always coaxed and indulged, like the one that is always con- 
 strained, becomes at last capricious, malicious, and sickly. 
 
 "Shall we then treat one another as we may not our chil- 
 dren ? People are flattered by undue praise of their power
 
 THEQUEST 455 
 
 and influence — are carried away by the sweetness of fine 
 words concerning the injustice they have too long endured 
 and concerning their right to property and to happiness. 
 You all listen to that eagerly, do you not ? 
 
 "But that to which one listens most eagerly, it is not always 
 best to say. There are things hard to hear, which must, how- 
 ever, be said and be listened to. 
 
 "I know that you are not going to applaud me, as yoH did 
 those two others; but yet I am a better friend to you than 
 they are. 
 
 "Among you there are those who suffer injustice. Yet 
 you must not exalt yourselves. You should be ashamed of 
 it. For whoever continues to suffer injustice is too weak, too 
 stupid, or too indifferent to overcome it. 
 
 "You must not ask, 'Why is it done to me?' but, 'Why 
 cannot I overcome kV 
 
 "The answer to that question is. Weakness, stupidity, and 
 indifference. 
 
 "I do not blame you; but I say, blame not others, only 
 yourselves. That is the sole way to betterment. 
 
 "Is there one here — a single one — who dares assure me, 
 solemnly, that if an honorable place were offered him by his 
 master, on account of his good work and his good judgment, 
 with higher pay than that of his comrades — that he would, in 
 such case, reply, *No, my master, I will not accept; for that 
 would be treachery to my comrades, and desertion to your 
 party.' Is there one such ? If so, let him stand up." 
 
 But no one stirred, and the silence remained unbroken, 
 
 "Well, then," continued Markus, "neither is there here a 
 single one who has the right to rail at the rich whom he would 
 hate and supplant. For each of you in their place would do 
 what the rich do. The affairs of the world would be no better 
 conducted were you, not they, at the helm. 
 
 "How you delude and flatter and fawn upon one another! 
 You continually hear that you are the innocent, downtrodden 
 ones who have so much to suffer; who are worthy of so much
 
 456 THEQUEST 
 
 better things; who are so good and so powerful; who would 
 rule the world so well; whose turn it now is to have ease and 
 luxury. 
 
 "Men, even if this were so, would it be well that you should 
 always be told it ? Would it not make of you conceited fools ? 
 Would not the reality revenge itself frightfully upon your- 
 selves, and upon those fawners and flatterers ? 
 
 "It is, instead, falsehood and conceit. 
 
 "You would not rule the w^orld better — you have neither 
 the wisdom nor the charity to do so. You are no more worthy 
 of pity than are your oppressors, for when they injure your 
 bodies they injure also their own souls. The rich are in paths 
 more perilous than are the poor, and it is always better to 
 suffer wrong than to commit it. 
 
 " The good things of the earth do not yet belong to you, for 
 you would make the same misuse of them as do those against 
 whom you are being incited. 
 
 "Wage war, and desist not until death; but the war of the 
 righteous against the unrighteous, of the wise and charitable 
 against the stupid and sensual. And question not whence 
 come your companions in arms, for you are not the only un- 
 happy ones, you are not alone merciful among men, and good- 
 will and uprightness are not the exclusive possessions of the 
 poor." 
 
 Although it seemed to Johannes that Markus' voice was 
 not so wonderfully impressive as at other times, the people 
 had become very attentive. And when he stopped, and sat 
 down without having made a particularly oratorical or cumu- 
 lative close, they all were still for many seconds. But not a 
 foot stamped, not a hand stirred. 
 
 And this very silence made Dr. Felbcck angry. 
 
 "Comrades," he began, in his most scornful manner, with 
 an envious, nasal twang in his voice, "we do not need to ask 
 whence the wind blows. This is one more of that obsolete 
 little band of old-fashioned, bourgeois idealists who wish to re-
 
 THEQUEST 457 
 
 form the world with tracts and sermons, and to keep the toilers 
 content in subjection and resignation. Laborers, have you 
 not, I ask, practised patience long enough ? Have you, then, 
 no right to the pleasures of life ? .Must you fill the hungry 
 stomachs of your little ones with palaver about wisdom and 
 charity ?" 
 
 "No, no!" roared the crowd, freed instantly from the spell 
 of respect under which for a moment they had been held. 
 
 "Do not let yourselves be befogged by those tedious maun- 
 derings that would reason away the strife of the classes. Oh, 
 true! To such the gentlemen of the safety-box listen eagerly 
 enough, for they are, oh, so afraid of the War of the Classes! 
 But if they were to hear this gentleman talk, they would shout 
 their approval. Take notice, this gentleman will do much to 
 further it. Of course, they have his medal all ready for him." 
 
 "And a pension," said Hakkema, while the audience 
 laughed. 
 
 "He is an unfrocked priest," said he in the Manchester 
 suit. 
 
 "Damn ye, are ye a workman .''" cried a voice at the back 
 of the hall. "And do ye mean to say it's my fault that my 
 children perish with hunger, and not the fault of those 
 cursed blood-suckers ? You're a God-forsaken hypocrite, no 
 laborer!" 
 
 Markus sat very still, gazing straight before him into the 
 flame of a gas-jet. But Johannes saw that he was deathly 
 pale, and that his eyes seemed to sink deeper into their sockets. 
 Beads of perspiration were standing on his temples. 
 
 Hakkema stood up. 
 
 "Now I chance to know, fellow-laborers, that this man has 
 escaped from a madhouse. That is a mitigating circum- 
 stance. Otherwise," Hakkema went on, drawing his clenched 
 hand from his pocket, and thrusting it out in front of him, 
 "otherwise I would have my fist at his jaw, and ask him if he 
 had no feeling at all in his accursed carcass, that he begrudged 
 the laborer his pittance of the good things of life. It's an
 
 458 THEOUEST 
 
 enormous amount of pleasure, isn't it — glorious pleasure — 
 you've been able to get on two hundred cents a day!" 
 
 "You cad!" cried the young typographer, to Markus — 
 the very same youth who had recited the poem about Gol- 
 gotha. 
 
 "I'll invite you sometime to my home — with my six chil- 
 dren, and a seventh one coming, and the clothes in the pawn- 
 shop, and no warm food for three days — then you can see 
 what a fine time of it the laborer has." 
 
 "Vile, hateful traitor! "" Hireling socialist!" "I'll ring 
 yer neck for ye!" "I'll guzzle yer blood, ye hateful cur!" 
 Such cries as these rang from various sides, and the uproar 
 steadily increased. 
 
 The man in the brown suit shrieked invectives without 
 cessation — "Cad! Carrion! Thief!" and the worst ones 
 he could think of; while, in his excitement, the tears ran 
 down his pale, drawn cheeks. 
 
 The din was deafening. 
 
 Johannes clenched his fists, and stared at the pale, passion- 
 ate faces with their evil, flashing glances, which threatened 
 them on every side. He saw Marjon beside him, her eyes 
 distended with terror. Markus sat immovable. The drops 
 of moisture were so thick upon his forehead and cheeks that 
 Johannes took his handkerchief and wiped them away. 
 
 Jan van Tijn stood up, but he felt he could do nothing to 
 stem that tide. He began, "Say, are you people — " But 
 he was shouted down, with threats of a broken head; and 
 already fists and chairs were upraised. 
 
 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.
 
 THE QUEST 459 
 
 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 gasp- 
 ing 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 Rood- 
 huis 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 cus- 
 tomers 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." 
 
 460
 
 THEQUEST 461 
 
 "That is right," said Markus. "And now, my dear Jo- 
 hannes, do not think that I am less submissive than yourseU. 
 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." 
 
 "Then are there not any wicked people ?" asked Marjon. 
 
 "Ay, ay! Because there is not a black light, is there there- 
 fore no night ? Calmly call a villain a villain, but take care 
 that you are not one yourself, Marjon." 
 
 "But are there not, for the Father, any evil-doers?" asked 
 Johannes. 
 
 "Why should there not be for the Father what there is for 
 us ? But He knows — what we do not know — the why and 
 the wherefore." 
 
 " But, Markus, I saw what you endured that wretched eve- 
 ning. And it must not be. Must you, then, let what is high 
 and noble be so misunderstood and defiled ?" 
 
 Markus bowed his head in silence over the coughing 
 monkey. Then he said gently: 
 
 "I have suffered, my two dear ones, because my Father has 
 not given me strength enough. Did you not see how they 
 listened to me, and trusted, for an instant ? But then my 
 Father, in His own way, which is beyond our comprehension, 
 gave power again to the Evil One. Had I more wisdom I 
 should have been able so to speak that they would have under- 
 stood me. Thus I suffered doubly: on account of their dulness 
 and wickedness, and from shame, not of them, but because 
 of my own weakness. And this I say, Johannes, that you may 
 know what weakness also there is in one who is stronger than 
 you yourself will ever be." 
 
 Johannes, his chin upon his clasped hands, looked at 
 him long and thoughtfully, and then whispered: 
 
 "Dear Brother, I believe I understand."
 
 462 THEQUEST 
 
 In this way they Hvcd together for some time, and saw one 
 another frequently. Johannes and Marjon performed their 
 daily tasks in the boarding-house, and Markus went out every 
 day to look for work. But Johannes was sad and troubled to 
 see that Markus looked more pale and weary than formerly; 
 and as Johannes lay awake in the night, he heard his brother, 
 who slept beside him, sigh often, and softly moan. 
 
 One morning Markus did not go out, for Keesje lay 
 still, looking, and could neither get up nor eat. When Mar- 
 kus took away his hand Keesje began to whine; and this 
 brought on a paroxysm of coughing. Markus set him in a 
 patch of sunshine that fell upon the counter from an upper 
 window. There he brightened up a bit, and looked at the 
 flies that, chilled with the cold, crept over the counter near his 
 head. But toward night, when Marjon came, it was all over 
 with Keesje. 
 
 He was all shriveled up, and as light as a handful of straw. 
 They put him into a cigar box, and the trio buried him at 
 night, by the light of a lantern, in the bit of soggy, black ground 
 between the foul fences that had to represent a garden, 
 and where shavings and papers supplied the place of flowers 
 and trees. 
 
 Marjon and Johannes tried to control themselves, but did 
 not succeed. First one and then the other began to cry. 
 
 "Truly, it is silly," said Johannes, "sobbing over such a 
 creature, when so many thousands of people are starving 
 every day." 
 
 Said Markus, "There are thousands starving here, and 
 infinitely many more in all parts of my Father's world, but yet 
 none cry a tear too much who cry as you do now. The tears 
 that the angels will shed for Johannes, he will need as much 
 as Keesje needs these tears of his."
 
 XXI 
 
 At last they had had enough of smiHng, of dining, and of 
 bowing, and the King and Queen were actually to be married 
 in the Cathedral, at eleven o'clock in the morning. Further- 
 more, it was to be a great feast day, with brilliant illumina- 
 tions at night, in all the towns of the good Netherlands. 
 
 What Hakkema had said of Markus — that he had escaped 
 from an asylum — was not true. He had simply been re- 
 leased because he was not considered dangerous, and because, 
 nowadays, the asylums, especially those of the working-class, 
 are already too crowded. 
 
 But he had been warned sternly that a watch would be kept 
 over him, and that he would be rearrested at the slightest 
 disturbance of the peace. 
 
 Since the indignation meeting, the police had been a num- 
 ber of times to see Roodhuis, to inquire after Markus. It was 
 further said that he had been advised not to speak in public, 
 because such speaking might furnish a pretext for his imme- 
 diate arrest. 
 
 Markus had not again spoken in public, but had been seek- 
 ing work. Sometimes he went afoot to neighboring towns, 
 many hours' distant — but always fruitlessly. He did not 
 always lodge with Roodhuis, but sometimes with a kind- 
 hearted and trusted friend, at another place. Johannes 
 noticed that Markus was very poor, for he was obliged to live 
 upon what his friends gave him, and they could spare but 
 little, 
 
 "Why do we not travel together, we three," asked Jo- 
 hannes, "just as we used to? We could surely earn our 
 ivmg. 
 
 "Yes, those were good times," said Marjon. "And if 
 Markus would go with us, we would have still better ones. 
 
 463
 
 464 THEQUEST 
 
 He makes even better music than ours. We shall earn 
 money." 
 
 But Markus shook his head. 
 
 "No, dear children, for us three those good times will not 
 come again. My singing-time is passed, and I must remain 
 here, for my task is not yet done. But it soon will be." 
 
 "And then shall we go together?" asked Marjon. 
 
 "No; then I shall go alone," replied Markus, briefly. 
 
 "Why alone?" asked Johannes and Marjon, almost in the 
 same breath. And there followed a silence of some mo- 
 ments' duration. 
 
 Then said Markus: "You will be faithful and remember me 
 and my words, and act as if I were with you, will you not ?" 
 
 They sighed, and thereafter their words were few and brief; 
 nor did they sing. 
 
 But on the morning of that festal day, when the bells of all 
 the Netherlands were ringing, Markus came into the little 
 tavern with a face more joyful than Johannes had ever seen 
 him wear. His eyes shone, and a smile was on his lips. 
 
 "Do you hear the bells, Johannes?" asked he. "It is a 
 holiday." 
 
 Johannes had entirely forgotten about the holiday. 
 
 "How splendid, Markus, to have you so glad. Has some- 
 thing good happened ?" 
 
 "Have you struck it ?" asked JufFrouw Roodhuis. "Happy 
 man! 
 
 "The worst is over," said Markus. "Yes, Juffrouw, to-day 
 I'll ' strike it', and it is well." 
 
 After eating some bread, said he: "Johannes, go to the 
 Van Tijns and ask if Marjon may go with us. If you would 
 like to, we will go to see the King and Queen." 
 
 "Where?" asked Johannes. 
 
 "In the church, Johannes. The sexton is a good friend of 
 mine, and has promised me a place for you both, near the 
 singers."
 
 THE QUEST 465 
 
 I shall not tell you in detail of the ceremony, for you may 
 read all about it in the papers: how the church was crammed 
 with the stateliest and most distinguished citizens of the 
 Netherlands, all of them beautifully dressed; how the floral 
 decorations were furnished by a certain firm; how people 
 stood at the door all night that they might be the first to enter 
 in the morning; how the bridal pair came in to the music 
 of Mendelssohn's wedding march; how charming the bride 
 looked, although a little pale; how an impressive train of 
 brilliantly decorated military men and magistrates followed 
 the royal pair, and grouped themselves about them, till the 
 church interior seemed truly magnificent; how respectfully 
 the people stood, and how stirred they all were; how the Min- 
 ister made a brief but touching speech, that affected all 
 profoundly; how finely, during the customary formalities, 
 the King carried himself, and how winsomely the Queen; how 
 the Queen, moreover, said "Yes" in a voice that thrilled all 
 present; how the King then spoke a few words, in which he 
 promised to consecrate all his powers to the good of his beloved 
 people, and invoked the blessing of God upon his difficult but 
 exalted task; and how, finally, a thundering "Long live the 
 King!" and "Long live the Queen!" burst forth, making the 
 whole vast edifice resound. 
 
 With all of this the papers have accurately acquainted you. 
 But you might perhaps recall that a number of journals had 
 something to say of a slight disturbance caused by the ap- 
 pearance of one who probably was not quite right in his head. 
 The incident, however — so the papers averred — had no sig- 
 nificance whatever, and was speedily forgotten; such instances 
 often occurring at ceremonies attended by great crowds. 
 
 The disturber of the peace — so the papers stated — was 
 one whom the police had long held under surveillance, on 
 account of his peculiar behavior. He was, therefore, 
 promptly taken into custody, the police, indeed, having had 
 no little difficulty in protecting him from the fury of the popu- 
 lace. The royal pair, not in the least agitated by the occur-
 
 466 THE GUEST 
 
 rence, drove home through the enthusiastic rejoicings of the 
 people, greeting all with friendly smiles. 
 
 This, then, was the information imparted by some few of 
 the newspapers — not all of them. But now I will tell you 
 what actually took place. I know well, because Johannes and 
 Marjon — for whom the sexton had secured a fine place with 
 the singers in the church choir, and who, therefore, witnessed 
 everything — told me all about it. 
 
 In the nave of the cathedral, above the arches of the aisles, 
 and running beneath the high windows, is a very narrow 
 gallery having a stone balustrade. The only way to this gal- 
 lery is through small doorways called "Monks' Holes." They 
 are so named because from them, in olden times, the friars 
 could witness the church rites below. 
 
 When the King had ended his brief speech, and all present, 
 being deeply impressed, held respectful silence, there appeared 
 up above, through one of these openings, a man in a spacious, 
 dun-grey mantle, with a white cloth about his neck. And 
 suddenly, in the deep silence, the voice of this man — much 
 fuller and more powerful than that of the King — cried out, 
 so that they echoed and re-echoed from every corner of the 
 great temple, these words: 
 
 "King of men!" 
 
 At once everybody looked up, including the King and 
 Queen, who were directly opposite. 
 
 But the man was not looking at them. He held his head a 
 little backward, and his dark hair fell down in curls over the 
 white linen. His eyes, beneath their half-closed lids, were 
 gazing into the light of the arched windows opposite him as 
 if to screen the inner vision from the too fierce outer light. His 
 figure was tall and erect. One hand rested on the white bal- 
 ustrade, the other was raised to the height of his head, in a 
 strange and majestic posture of authority. 
 
 Again he cried: 
 
 "Hail to thee. King of men!"
 
 THE QUEST 467 
 
 The master of ceremonies with his white staff, the gen- 
 erals, stiff with gold, the diplomats and magistrates, all looked 
 with something of wonder, by turns at the speaker, at one 
 another, and at the royal pair, not knowing but that it was a 
 special addition to the program, of which there was no official 
 mention. But since it had made an impression, and seemed 
 to befit the temper and spirit of the assembly, all continued to 
 listen. And the conductor of the choir of children, whose turn 
 it now was to take part, waited and listened as well. And 
 quite without hindrance, Markus spoke the following: 
 
 "Hail to him who should be called the King of men! 
 Blessed is he who merits that name. 
 
 "For he is crowned by the grace of God, which is wisdom. 
 His sceptre is love, and his seat is righteousness. 
 
 "Among the millions who wander and complain, he is the 
 strong and wise one, who goes before and lights the way. 
 
 "Blessed is his progress, for without effort he leads the 
 multitude. 
 
 "Blessed are his thoughts, for beyond all others he fore- 
 sees the marvels of the Father. 
 
 " Blessed is his word, for he is the poet who fashions worlds 
 after the pattern of the Father. God's mouthpiece he is, 
 
 "Joyful is he in the midst of sadness and happy in all ad- 
 versity; for wherever he goes he dwells in the shadow of the 
 Eternal, and hears His wings above him. 
 
 "Among the countless lame and maimed, in the multi- 
 tude of the defective and infirm, he is the only perfect one, 
 showing what it is possible for man to be. 
 
 "Strong is he, and beautiful in person; proud and unpre- 
 tentious; daring and patient; wise in great, and sagacious in 
 lesser, things; stern in deed, yet tender-hearted; unlimited 
 in love; gentle, but never weak. 
 
 "For he is the only hale flower of perfect bloom in a full 
 field of the pale and the deformed. Honor be to him! Elect 
 him, and encompass him with care and with homage; for 
 in him exists the future and the entire race.
 
 468 THEQUEST 
 
 "He is the director of the ways of men, and bears with ease 
 the burden of their sorrow and their care, for he knows the 
 issue and the sokition. 
 
 "He is the maker and maintainer of order in human rela- 
 tions, because he knows and comprehends, and beholds in his 
 mind, like an accurate map, the longings and emotions of 
 men. 
 
 "He operates not through pressure of fear or force, but 
 through the superiority of his mind, which must be perceptible 
 to all. 
 
 "He is the regulator of the labor of men, teaching them 
 how to bring forth and to distribute in such manner that none 
 may have overflow while others suffer scarcity; and also that 
 none may be idle while others overwork. He plans and 
 confirms the bond through which each finds his place in 
 the great family, so that life becomes fine and orderly and 
 easy, like the figures of a well-drilled dance. 
 
 "Such is the King of men. His power is given him, not 
 through the unreasoning, capricious fancy of the undeveloped 
 who are the slaves of custom and of idle, impressionable 
 fear, but through the reasonable views of the multitude who 
 follow and honor, in him, their own best self. 
 
 "He moves not in the splendor of external pomp, neither 
 wears he a golden crown; but around his head streams, visible 
 to all, the grace of God, which is wisdom, love, and beauty." 
 
 When Markus had said this, people here and there be- 
 gan to be restless. The master of ceremonies indicated that 
 enough had been said, and sent one lackey to the choir-con- 
 ductor to ask why, according to regulations, there was no 
 singing, and another lackey to the door to see if the carriages 
 were in waiting. 
 
 But the carriages were not yet there, and the children who 
 were to sing the chorus now in order, remained, with per- 
 plexed faces and open mouths, gazing at that strange figure 
 speaking as if out of the sky in such a marvelous voice. The
 
 THEQUEST 469 
 
 conductor failed to attract their attention, and realized that 
 all his painstaking, studious preparations for the song were 
 useless. 
 
 Markus paid not the slightest heed to the increasing un- 
 rest and nervousness, nor to the commanding gestures of the 
 irritated master of ceremonies that he cease speaking; in- 
 stead, he now raised his voice until it reverberated from the 
 high vaultings: 
 
 "Where is he, that King of men ? 
 
 "Where is the people's King? Where is the people's 
 Queen — his peer — who supports and supplements him? 
 
 "Seek them, ye unhappy ones! Never so much as now 
 have you had need of them. 
 
 "Seek them in every land; for misery and ugliness and 
 barrenness and confusion are not much longer to be endured. 
 
 "Seek them in the city and in the country. Seek them 
 also in the alleys and in the hovels. Yes, seek them in the 
 prisons and in the places of execution. For even so great is 
 your confusion." 
 
 Then, bending his head toward the royal pair below, and 
 fastening upon them and the surrounding group of splendid 
 notables his flashing glance, Markus shouted in vehement, 
 resounding tones: 
 
 "But seek them not here. Has the light of the grace of 
 God pointed hither ? 
 
 "Has the grace of God become here evident to all, like a 
 shining aureole of wisdom and love and beauty ? 
 
 "What children and mischief-makers you are — you there, 
 with your robes of state, and your badges of dignity, — that 
 you think to create a king without the manifestation of the 
 grace of God! 
 
 "Deluded by an empty sound, by a dynastic name, 
 you in your ignorance would proclaim, 'Here is a king, and 
 here therefore must God's grace be manifested, for even so we 
 wish it to be.'
 
 470 THEQUEST 
 
 "Would you, like mischief-makers and frivolous bugle- 
 blowers, dictate to your God, and show Him where to bestow 
 His grace ? 
 
 "Who has beheld in this pair of wretched human beings 
 the wisdom, beauty, love, and power which are the visible 
 tokens of God's elect ? 
 
 "Do you not tremble, then, at the fearful responsibility you 
 take upon yourselves, and put also upon these two pitiable 
 people, by this blasphemous child's-play?" 
 
 The excitement now became more serious. That the 
 King and Queen, counts and barons, generals, court mar- 
 shals, state counselors and ministers should be called mis- 
 chief-makers and frivolous bugle-blowers, was not to be 
 tolerated. 
 
 The King grew red, coughed in his glove, and looked 
 angrily at the master of ceremonies. The Queen, on the con- 
 trary, grew pale, and nervously fingered the folds of her heavy, 
 white-satin train. Half turning round, a quick-witted cour- 
 tier beckoned to the organist, and shouted: "Music!" A 
 general — Johannes recognized him as one of the "Pleiades" 
 — in an attempt at guarding his Rulers, cried out with all the 
 dramatic importance and blufFness of a war-charge: 
 
 "Silence, miscreant!" 
 
 But it had to be admitted that this sounded more ridiculous 
 than impressive. And not one of the courtiers, officers, or 
 magistrates felt individually powerful enough to set himself 
 by voice and bearing against that forceful speaker. Each 
 felt that he would appear theatrical. And the man in the 
 grey cloak, up above there, was not that. Besides, the as- 
 sembly gave no countenance to such effort, and was, like every 
 great gathering of people, under the influence of the most 
 powerful personality. 
 
 At last, the organist comprehended what was desired of 
 him in this critical situation, and drawing out all the stops he 
 sent forth a heavy peal of trembling sound. In the mean-
 
 THE QUEST 471 
 
 time, two policemen were despatched aloft to silence the un- 
 desirable speaker. 
 
 But the majestic music rang out upon the words of Markus 
 as if in solemn confirmation. So at least it seemed to Johan- 
 nes, and to many others in the church. Markus ceased 
 speaking, and appeared to be listening, pensively. 
 
 The policemen returned without having attained their ob- 
 ject. The gallery could only be reached by climbing over a 
 great beam, having broken and decayed supports, one hundred 
 feet above the floor. The officers, becoming dizzy, lost their 
 zest for the affair, and the firemen had to be sent for. 
 
 The music stopped again, and yet there was no continuance 
 of the ceremonies. Markus still stood calmly in his elevated 
 place, looking down upon the throng below with that sad 
 expression of countenance which Johannes knew so well. 
 And yet again, softer, but with keen and cutting penetration : 
 
 " Oh, ye poor, poor people ! Slaves of the -devil, called 
 custom ! 
 
 "You know no better, and cannot do otherwise. You 
 mean to perform your duty, and to reach that which is good 
 and holy. 
 
 "How would you possibly find your King? And how 
 would you maintain order — holy order — without these two 
 people; without him whom you happen to have named your 
 king, as you might have named some foundling ? 
 
 "But notwithstanding you have felt, every one of you, that 
 I spoke the truth just now, you yet will continue this unblush- 
 ing lie because you dare not do otherwise, and because you 
 know no other way. 
 
 "But bethink yourselves, unhappy beings! Cowardice 
 and weakness shall not excuse you, if, knowing the lie, you 
 adhere to it, and, seeing the truth, you accept it not. 
 
 "What you endure is indeed terrible. I esteem you still 
 more worthy of pity than the neglected people out of whose 
 misery you have extracted your splendor. 
 
 "You have burdened this poor pair of human beings with
 
 472 THEQUEST 
 
 royalty — a power befitting only the strongest and the wisest 
 among men. 
 
 "Thus do you crush their weak spirits under a weight which 
 only the strongest can bear. You desecrate the name of King 
 — you blaspheme against God, whose grace is not subject to 
 your command. 
 
 "You dazzle your bewildered people with a blinding glare, 
 as if they truly had a king. But it is an idle puppet-show, 
 to comply with a hollow peace and a defective method. 
 There is none among you who has the wisdom and the might 
 to lead this people into righteousness ; and yet you bear all the 
 responsibility for their confusion, their ignorance, their crude- 
 ness, and their misery. 
 
 "And they are the least guilty, because, in working for your 
 luxury, they miss the opportunity to learn. 
 
 "But you pride yourselves upon your knowledge and your 
 refinement. You know how the industrious lack food, and the 
 rich have the privilege of idleness. You know how an over- 
 abundance flows to you from the deprivations of the neglected. 
 You know the injustice of all this, and yet permit it. And on 
 these two unfortunates you impose the responsibility and the 
 He. 
 
 "But you know — and you shall not be justified! 
 
 "And you, two unfortunates, corrupted by the burden of 
 your imposed greatness — poor man, poor, poor little woman! 
 The superhuman power to break the spell of lies round about 
 you will not be yours. May the Good Father, who hath not 
 poured out His grace upon you, encompass you with His com- 
 passion." 
 
 Just then an excited young adjutant drew out a revolver, 
 and cried, "He insults the Queen!" 
 
 A more moderate diplomat, fearing a panic, held back his 
 hand. The cry "He insults the Oueen!" was repeated at the 
 entrance to the church. And an uproar was heard outside, 
 for, at the coming of the firemen, the waiting crowds had over-
 
 THEQUEST 473 
 
 heard something about a murderer, or a madman, who was 
 in the upper part of the church. 
 
 The hehneted men now appeared in the small gallery, and 
 dragged Markus aside. They immediately bound him with 
 strong cords, fearing he might throw them down below. Then 
 one of them first made his way over the big beam, and ordered 
 Markus to come to him. After that, the other cautiously 
 followed. 
 
 The assembly could not see this, because it took place in the 
 dark ridge of the aisle; but all breathed freely once more, now 
 that the powerful voice up above was silent. Again the organ 
 pealed forth, and the royal pair, ceremoniously preceded by 
 the court official, at last proceeded toward the exit, for the 
 carriages were now ready. The singing by the children was 
 omitted. Everything else went just as the daily papers have 
 recorded it for you. 
 
 Markus, tightly bound, was led out through a side door, 
 yet not so secretly but that the crowd became aware thereof, 
 and a riotous mob soon encircled the firemen and their pris- 
 oner. 
 
 "The Queen insulted!" they shrieked. *' Kill him! Orange 
 forever!" And they pressed closer and closer. 
 
 When Johannes and Marjon, hurried and breathless, had 
 forced their way out through the disorderly throng, they saw, 
 in the distance, above the encircling crowds, the shining hel- 
 mets, swaying and undulating as they gradually moved farther 
 and farther away. Hands, hats, walking-sticks, and umbrellas 
 could be seen, now uplifted and then lowered. 
 
 The two followed on, in extreme anxiety, but they were not 
 so fortunate as to get close by. They saw the red, angry 
 faces of men and women, and heard the shouts of, "Orange 
 forever!" and "Kill him!" At last, to their relief, they saw 
 approaching a long file of policemen, who forced their way 
 through the crowd. The people now pressed closely about 
 the entrance to a narrow alley in which was the police-station.
 
 474 
 
 THE GUEST 
 
 Then Johannes saw a man take up a large Iron ash-can that 
 stood on a stoop at the corner of the alley, and toss it so that 
 it came down in the middle ot the clamoring crowd where 
 Markus was. A great cloud of yellow-white ashes flew from 
 it, and the rabble laughed and cheered. The police cleared 
 the alley, and the mob slowly scattered, with the triumphant 
 shout: "Orange forever!" 
 
 When Johannes peered into the alley, between the police- 
 men who w^ould not let him through, he saw Markus — no 
 longer walking, but only an inert body under the weight of 
 which the firemen were moving with shuffling feet. 
 
 Marjon and Johannes waited patiently during what seemed 
 an hour. It might have been only fifteen minutes. Then they 
 obtained permission to pass through, and to see their brother 
 in the station-house. 
 
 When questioned, an officer, who was sitting at the en- 
 trance, pointed over his shoulder with his pipe-stem to a dark 
 corner. 
 
 There, upon the wooden floor, unconscious, lay Markus. 
 His clothing was torn to rags; his hair, his beard, his eye- 
 brows and lashes, were white with ashes; and over all were 
 dark red clots and streaks of coagulated blood. He breathed 
 heavily and painfully. There was no one close beside him, 
 and he lay unwashed and uncared for, with the rope still 
 around his wrists. 
 
 Johannes and Marjon asked for water, but were not per- 
 mitted to do anything. They had to wait until the municipal 
 doctor came. Tightly clasping each other's hand, they waited, 
 watching their friend. At last the doctor came, and cut away 
 the rope. It was not a mortal hurt, he said. 
 
 They saw the ambulance, with its white awning come, and 
 saw Markus laid therein. Then, hand in hand, they walked 
 behind to the door of the hospital, without speaking a word. 
 
 That evening there were great rejoicings and brilliant illu- 
 minations in all the towns and villages of the dear Netherlands.
 
 THEOUEST 475 
 
 Everywhere there were flaming torches and exploding fire- 
 works, and on all sides rano; strains of " Wilhelmus ! " and 
 " Orange forever ! " 
 
 The King and Queen were glad when at last the day was 
 ended.
 
 XXII 
 
 Johannes and Marjon both held out bravely until night, 
 doing their daily work as well as they could, and telling 
 briefly, to the few faithful friends of Markus, what had oc- 
 curred. 
 
 But when the lonesome night was come, and they were about 
 to part for several hours, Johannes said: 
 
 "No, do not go away from me! How can I endure it — 
 alone with my thoughts — without you!" 
 
 They were in the little kitchen where Marjon slept. A 
 small lamp, without a shade, stood burning on the table be- 
 side an untidy coffee-set. 
 
 When Johannes said this, Marjon looked at him with 
 puzzled, half-closed eyes, as if she did not understand and 
 was trying to think it out. Then she threw herself forward 
 upon her pillow, her face in her hands, and began to cry 
 piteously. 
 
 At that Johannes also broke down, and kneeling beside 
 her poor, rickety little iron bed, he cried with her like one in 
 desperation. 
 
 Then said Johannes: "What shall we do without him, 
 Marjon ?" 
 
 Marjon made no reply. 
 
 " Do you remember that he said he should soon go away 
 from us .?" 
 
 "If only I could nurse him," she said. 
 
 "Is he going to die?" asked Johannes. 
 
 "He can die as well as we. Is he not flesh and blood ?" 
 
 "He will never really die, though." 
 
 "Nor will we, Jo. But what does that avail us .f* I can't 
 do without him." 
 
 And she sobbed again, hopelessly. 
 
 476
 
 THEQUEST 477 
 
 "Perhaps it is not so had," said Johannes. "We will call 
 in the morning, and they surely will let us see him." 
 
 And so they talked on for a time. Then Johannes said: 
 
 "Let me stay with you, Marjon. It really seems as if 
 I never again could go away from you." 
 
 Marjon looked at him through her tears, and even smiled. 
 
 " But, Jo, we cannot do as we used to. We are no longer 
 children. I am already eighteen, and are you not that also ?" 
 
 "Then let us become husband and wife, so that we can 
 remain together," said Johannes. 
 
 "Then you no longer love that other one more than me ?" 
 
 "I think not, Marjon; for she would understand nothing 
 of this, and certainly would not join us in our sorrow." 
 
 "But, dear boy, we are far too young to become husband 
 and wife." 
 
 "I do not understand, Marjon. First you find us too old 
 to stay together, and then you find us too young. And yet I 
 want to remain with you. How can it be done.^" 
 
 "Listen, Jo. Formerly you said to me, 'No foolishness,' 
 and that hurt me for I cared much more for you than you 
 did for me. Why were you never more kind to me then ? " 
 
 " Because I was forced to remember that ugly, dark woman, 
 your sister. I cannot bear the thought of her." 
 
 Marjon reflected a while, and then said: 
 
 "But that is no reason for you to be hard toward me, Jo. 
 I am not low, like her." 
 
 Johannes was silent. Then she resumed: 
 
 "But then I know what, Jo: you may stay here. But 
 now / shall say 'No foolishness,' and remain unyielding until 
 you shall have forgotten that ugly woman. Will that do f" 
 
 "Yes, Marjon," replied Johannes. Then a pillow and 
 some covering were given him, and he lay on the hard floor of 
 the little kitchen the entire night. And now and then, as one 
 of them became aware that the other was still awake, they 
 would talk together, softly, about their poor friend, each 
 trying to comfort the other.
 
 478 THEQUEST 
 
 And thus it happened, as I told you it would, that, before 
 the ending of the book, they became husband and wife. 
 
 But when Johannes forgot the ugly, dark woman Mar- 
 jon's sister I do not tell you; for that does not concern 
 others.
 
 XXIII 
 
 The humble little kitchen, in the first pale, glimmering light 
 that passed through the unwashed, uncurtained window; 
 two rush-bottomed chairs; the unpainted table with the oil- 
 lamp and the untidy cofFee-set; Marjon's narrow iron bed, 
 which quaked if she merely stirred; her breathing, now deep 
 and regular, for at last she slept; the first chirping of the spar- 
 rows out-of-doors; continually before Johannes' mental vision 
 the pale face of his kind Brother, befouled with blood and 
 ashes; in his ears the powerful voice resounding through the 
 arches of the church; the howling of the mob; and then — 
 his own body, stiff and sore, on the hard, wooden boards. . . . 
 
 Then, all at once, light! Bright, golden sunlight, a mild, 
 refreshingly fragrant air, all pain away, an elastic, feather- 
 Hght body — and the majestic sound of the sea. 
 
 Where was he ? Where — where! 
 
 Oh, he knew; he felt in himself where he was. 
 
 He recognized the feeling of self-consciousness, although 
 he had not recalled his surroundings. 
 
 But he heard the ocean — heard it roaring grandly as only 
 it roars on a level, sandy coast; and he heard the whistling of 
 wind in the rushes. And he watched the play of the 
 grey-green waves as they came rolling in — their long lines of 
 shining breakers crested with combing white, dashing and 
 splashing and foaming over the flat stretches of sand. 
 
 He had seen it all for years, and every day it was the same, 
 from age to age. 
 
 And when he glanced round to see if his little friend Wistik, 
 whom he hoped to find, was also here, he saw, close beside him, 
 a bright little figure sitting quite still and gazing out over the 
 sea. 
 
 It was not Wistik. No, for this one had the large, gauzy 
 
 479
 
 48o THEQUEST 
 
 wings of a dragon-fly, and a little mantle of delicate blue wav- 
 ing gently in the sea-breeze. 
 
 "Windekind!" exclaimed Johannes. 
 
 Then the bright being looked at him, and he recognized the 
 dear, enigmatical eyes, and the exquisite hair — a bloom-like 
 blonde like the mere sheen of gold — with its flower-crown of 
 green and white. 
 
 "Here we are again," said Windekind. 
 
 "Then did you not die with Father Pan ?" asked Johannes, 
 in astonishment. 
 
 "I live forever," said Windekind. 
 
 Johannes thought this over. He was tranquil again, as 
 he always was here. Life, so rude and painful, seemed now 
 very far away. He felt only calmness and contentment, al- 
 though he well knew that his body still lay on the hard floor. 
 
 Then he asked, "Does not that bore you.^*" 
 
 Windekind laughed, and held out in front of him his flower, 
 which he used as a staff. It was not an iris, but a strange, 
 splendid blossom — a lily or an orchid — blue, striped with 
 white and gold. 
 
 "Silly boy!" said he. "To be bored is to be no longer able 
 to enjoy anything. I am not a human being, that gets bored 
 after a few years. I am not weary of happiness." 
 
 "Never?" asked Johannes. 
 
 "That I do not know," answered Windekind; "but not 
 yet. If life were to bore me, then I should die and return 
 to my Father. He can never grow weary." 
 
 "And have you grown still wiser.''" 
 
 Windekind looked tenderly and very seriously at Johannes. 
 
 "Do you see my flower.^" he asked. "This is not my old 
 iris. This is much more beautiful. Oh, Mother Earth is 
 greatly changed; and so am I." 
 
 Johannes looked about him. But everything appeared as 
 before: the long lines of delicate green dunes; the sky, all 
 mottled with white clouds; the graceful sea-gulls rocking in 
 the wind, with their cry of grand and lonely liberty. But on
 
 THEQUEST 481 
 
 the water not a sail was to be seen, nor on the strand a per- 
 son. 
 
 "How good it is to see you again," said Johannes. "I 
 have been so sorry about Father Pan. And now I am very 
 anxious about my poor Brother." 
 
 But as Johannes said this he felt quite calm and peaceful; 
 and this puzzled him. 
 
 Windekind looked at him, and smiled mysteriously. 
 
 "That was a long time ago," he said. 
 
 And when Johannes gazed at him in amazement, he repeated: 
 
 "Long ago — quite a thousand years." 
 
 "A thousand years V murmured Johannes, mistrustfully. 
 
 "Yes, truly a thousand years," said Windekind, positively. 
 "I have grown old, although you cannot see it in me. But the 
 longer those of my race live, the younger they grow, in nature 
 and appearance. Learn that yourself, Johannes — it is well 
 to. I have grown stronger with the centuries, and more 
 elastic — wiser and more loving. That's the way. I have 
 not now an enemy upon earth. I have made up with that 
 small goblin Wistik. He is a right good fellow, after all." 
 
 "Is he not?" exclaimed Johannes, delighted. "I too have 
 noticed that." 
 
 "Yes," said Windekind, "when he has a leader. I have 
 also become reconciled to human beings." 
 
 "Oh, splendid, splendid!" cried Johannes. "I know who 
 has done that!" 
 
 "Right!" said Windekind, nodding. "Your good Brother 
 did it." 
 
 Then Johannes saw great numbers of sea-gulls flocking 
 together from all sides, wheeling and screaming because of 
 something in the distance that was drawing nearer from out 
 over the sea. It was like a large bird soaring on vast, silently 
 outspread wings. The fierce sunlight fell upon it, making 
 it flash like burnished gold, or like some shining metal. As 
 it came nearer Johannes saw that it had the pretty colors of a
 
 482 THEQUEST 
 
 swallow, steel-blue, brown and white, but with gilded beak 
 and claws, and that long, variegated feathers, or ribbons, 
 were streaming out behind, because of its rapid flight. The 
 exquisite white of the circling, screaming sea-gulls was in 
 sharp contrast with the huge, dark-colored hulk. A soft, 
 clear sound came from above, as of clinking glass attuned 
 like bells. 
 
 "What is that immense creature.^" asked Johannes; for 
 the shadow of it moved over the sea like that of a cloud. 
 
 "That is not a creature," replied Windekind. "There are 
 human beings in it, but they are not at all ugly now, nor 
 ridiculous. Only look!" 
 
 And Johannes saw, from its immobility, that it was not a 
 bird, but a colossal air-ship in the form of a bird. And also 
 he could see, clearly, that lightly dressed figures were moving 
 to and fro along the decks, tossing crumbs to the sea-gulls 
 that, fluttering, and crying caught them up. 
 
 Then the great shining wings altered their course, and with 
 a graceful movement the colossus dipped gently downward, 
 skimming the level sandy beach for the distance of a hundred 
 yards. 
 
 At last it was still, and Johannes could admire the splendid 
 structure: the glittering gold, the gleaming steel-blue decora- 
 tions, and the bright-hued banners and pennants with gold- 
 lettered mottoes that fluttered in the breeze. 
 
 "Climb up," cried Windekind, "it is going away again. 
 It will not stay a great while." 
 
 "Are you going along?" asked Johannes. 
 
 "Yes," replied Windekind. "I am at home with these 
 people. But remember they cannot see us yet, any more 
 than could those a thousand years ago. They are still only 
 human beings." 
 
 Johannes, his hand in Windckind's, floated up to the air- 
 ship, and nestled in the golden crown upon the head of the bird. 
 Secluded there, they could see what the people were doing. 
 
 The people were strong and handsome, like those in the
 
 THE QUEST 483 
 
 realms of Father Pan; but their hair was darker, and their 
 faces, with thoughtful eyes, were more earnest. And they 
 all resembled Johannes' Brother — as if they were all one 
 large family, and akin to him. 
 
 The garments of all of them were much alike — exceed- 
 ingly simple. They were of unfigured material, similar to 
 linen, with the pretty, sober coloring of some birds — the wood- 
 dove and the peregrine; and all were bordered with fine, 
 bright-colored embroidery. Almost without exception the 
 passengers carried flowers. And festoons of flowers hung in 
 every part of the ship; but these were wilted, and diff^used 
 the sweet, keen fragrance of roses. 
 
 All went with heads uncovered, and their waving hair was 
 thick, but not long. There was little to distinguish the dress 
 of the men from that of the women; but the men all wore full 
 beards, and the women braids of hair wound about their 
 heads. 
 
 Now, leaving their vessel for a short time, they raced along 
 the beach, laughing merrily, and glad of the exercise. Jo- 
 hannes saw that they wore sandals — just like the man in 
 brown at Roodhuis'; and he had to laugh at the recollection. 
 The younger ones were barefooted. 
 
 After they had bathed and played, they climbed into the 
 ship again; and, taking their places, all facing the sea, they 
 sang a song. Although Johannes did not understand the 
 words, he knew the meaning of them. It sounded like a 
 psalm, but was more fine and earnest than any he had ever 
 heard. 
 
 "That is the song of thanks they always sing after a safe 
 passage over the great water," said Windekind. "Yes, they 
 mean it, for they all know the Father. See how they mean 
 it." 
 
 And Johannes saw the deep emotion in their earnest faces, 
 and the tears that glistened beneath the eyes of the younger 
 women. And he heard the quiver of feeling in their full, pure 
 voices.
 
 484 THEQUEST 
 
 Then the magnificent great bird, with a strange clatter of 
 unfolding wings, with the whirring of unseen wheels, and the 
 klink-klank of glass bells, rose slowly, and pointed its golden 
 beak and its fixed, crystal eyes toward the land. 
 
 "But how does it move?" asked Johannes. 
 
 "Could you have explained to your forefathers how an 
 electric vehicle of your own time was propelled?" asked 
 Windekind. "Then do not ask that question, but rather, 
 take a look at your native country, and see how beautiful it 
 has become." 
 
 The long line of coast was visible as they ascended, and 
 Johannes could see extending into the ocean at regular dis- 
 tances great dikes of dark-grey stone, over which the white 
 foam of the waves was splashing . 
 
 "They are not handsome, but necessary," said Windekind. 
 "But here are our dunes." 
 
 And behold! They were as fair and free as in the olden 
 days — a wide, open wilderness without hedge or fence, with- 
 out shavings or paper. The hollows were full of little green 
 groves; and there the white hawthorn blossomed, and the 
 singing of hundreds of nightingales ascended to their high 
 position. Johannes saw, as of old, the little white tails of 
 thousands of rabbits, flipping over the grey-green stretches of 
 moss. And also he saw people — sometimes by twos or threes, 
 then in large groups. But they did not disturb the harmony 
 of the peaceful scene, and their delicate grey, soft brown, and 
 subdued green clothing was quite in keeping with the tender 
 tints of the landscape. 
 
 After that came the verdant country. And how excited 
 Johannes was when, in his flight, he saw it looking like one 
 great, flowery, tree-filled park! 
 
 The bright green fields were there, the straight ditches and 
 canals; but everywhere were trees. Sometimes they stood 
 alone — mighty giants casting broad shadows; sometimes in 
 great forests, each one vast expanse of foliage, cool and 
 rustling, where the wood-doves cooed, and golden thrushes
 
 THEQUEST 485 
 
 whistled. Gorgeous blossoms and thickly flowered shrubs, 
 such as Johannes had seen only in gardens, were everywhere 
 — growing wild in such masses that, from above, they some- 
 times looked like carpets of glowing red or deepest blue. 
 
 And the small white houses of the people, looking as if 
 some giant had sawed them out with supple hand, were dotted 
 about in the midst of the verdure and flowers. But on the 
 borders of the water, by lakes and rivers and canals, were 
 they strewn most thickly. The shining blue waters appeared 
 to be the magnet which had attracted the little square blocks. 
 
 "You see, indeed, Johannes," said Windekind, "it was their 
 own fault that human beings seemed out of place in Nature. 
 They had no reverence for her, and harmed her in their stupid- 
 ity. They have now learned from Nature how beautiful and 
 like unto her they themselves may be, and they have made 
 friends with her. They have taught their children, from their 
 earliest infancy, to do no needless damage to flower or leaf, 
 and to kill no creature ruthlessly; taught them also to desire 
 to be worthy of their place in the midst of all those beautiful 
 and charming objects. Sacred reverence for all that is beauti- 
 ful, and for everything that has life, is now strictly enjoined. 
 Thus is peace preserved between man and Nature, and they 
 live in intimate relations, neither annoying the other." 
 
 "But, Windekind, where are the cities? I see only scat- 
 tered houses and churches. And where are the iron railways 
 and their sooty stations ? And where are the factories, with 
 their tall chimneys and dirty smoke ?" 
 
 "My dear Johannes, ought ugly things to be retained any 
 longer than extreme need for them demands ?" 
 
 "Are not, then, railroads and cities and factories neces- 
 sities ?" 
 
 "There are still factories, but they do not have to be ugly. 
 There they are — finer than many palaces of a thousand years 
 ago. And why tracks of iron, when the broad ways of the air 
 are open and free to all ? And why swarm in cramped quar- 
 ters, high over one another, so long as there is dwelling-room
 
 486 THEQUEST 
 
 amid the flowers and the verdure ? Men were not so stupid 
 but that they found a way to dispense with all that ugHness, 
 and to drive their engines without the burning of dusty, deeply 
 buried coal. But still some roads remain. Look!" 
 
 And Johannes saw that all the dwellings were connected by 
 roads — some of them fourfold and broad, of a dark russet 
 color; others like narrow white ribbons winding through the 
 grass from house to house. And people were passing over 
 them, afoot, or in small, swiftly moving vehicles. 
 
 "It is a holiday," said Windekind. "Such days are now 
 really happy and holy days, without the deadly dreariness of 
 the former ones." 
 
 Everywhere Johannes saw little churches having pointed 
 spires in the old Dutch style; but now they were full of 
 statuary and ornament. The doors stood open, and people 
 were passing through. And now Johannes heard the sound 
 of music coming out of those little churches — as pure and as 
 fine as the best he had ever heard. 
 
 "Oh, Windekind, how I should love to go in and listen to 
 that splendid music! I do so want to," said Johannes. 
 
 But Windekind put his finger to his lips, and said: 
 
 "Hush! We are going to hear still better. Our voyagers 
 are going to a much larger church, where most beautiful music 
 can be heard. They are pilgrims, such as go from all coun- 
 tries every year, at this time, to celebrate the great festival." 
 
 " Do I not see another air-ship, Windekind ? And there — 
 still another.?" asked Johannes. 
 
 "Yes; perhaps, indeed, one maybe going along with us," 
 said Windekind. "That will make it lively." 
 
 And very soon there actually came a second air-ship — a big 
 brother-bird, that flew up to them. Then the flags dipped, 
 and wide dark-blue banners, bearing silver-lettered mottoes, 
 were unfurled to the breeze. The people waved, and shouted 
 aloud. And when the twin birds were so close together that 
 the tips of their great bright wings nearly touched, the people
 
 THE QUEST 487 
 
 on Johannes' ship struck up an anthem — a full and powerful 
 song — that was immediately responded to by an antistrophe 
 from the other ship. And thus they took turns, first one, then 
 the other, for quite a time. 
 
 Johannes' heart was warmed by this sweet understanding 
 among peoples wholly unknown to one another. 
 
 "Do all men now speak the same language ?" he asked his 
 friend. 
 
 "Do you not hear what they are singing ? All people have 
 chosen that language as the most beautiful and the most nat- 
 ural. It is Greek." 
 
 "I do not know Greek," said Johannes, regretfully. 
 
 "But just look at that pennant, then, on the other ship. 
 What does it say?" 
 
 "That is Dutch, Windekind — ordinary Dutch," cried 
 Johannes. And he read: '^ There is no Death," and "GlaJ- 
 ness only endures." And he also read the name of the ship, 
 "The Heron." 
 
 Then his own ship dropped down again, upon a level 
 meadow close beside some large buildings of grey freestone, 
 charmingly sculptured, and there, for some mysterious reason, 
 the vessel lay a long while — to get up power, thought Johan- 
 nes. And the pilgrims took advantage of the delay to dance 
 over the meadows with graceful steps, and also to replace with 
 fresh flowers the wilted festoons. 
 
 Then they rose again, and whizzed through the still, summer 
 air toward the south. Johannes noticed that not much more 
 than half the land was devoted to field and orchard and vege- 
 table-garden, and that all the rest was forest and park and 
 flower-garden; that there were no hedges nor fences, nor any 
 walls, except those against which grapes and peaches were 
 growing. He did indeed still see brown and white sails on 
 lake and river — that beautiful and ever charming spectacle 
 — but there were no more of the tall four-armed windmills. 
 And that was a pity. 
 
 "One cannot demand everything," said Windekind.
 
 488 THEQUEST 
 
 Johannes saw colossal wheels, like anchored paddle-wheels, 
 glistening in the sunlight — turning constantly, and moved 
 by some mysterious force. That certainly was better than 
 smoking chimneys. 
 
 And nowhere was it dirty, nowhere was there wan poverty, 
 nowhere the deathly ugliness and monotonous melancholy of 
 the cities. He saw no ragged nor wretched people, no un- 
 sightly regions of refuse and lumber. In the places where 
 he knew the cities to have been, there were now verdant 
 tracts vocal with the songs of birds, and fruitful, well-tilled 
 fields and gardens. 
 
 "The housekeeping of the world is revolutionized, dear 
 Johannes," said Windekind. "It lasted quite a while, and 
 cost considerable bickering; but that is all over now, and every- 
 thing is according to method. I myself take real pleasure 
 
 • >> 
 m It. 
 
 And from his golden seat he gazed over the country, like a 
 tiny pretty king, who, proud and well-satisfied, rules his do- 
 main with a floral sceptre. 
 
 "Watch, now: we are going higher. We have to fly over the 
 mountains." 
 
 And the ship rose until the people below were no longer 
 visible, and at last even the houses disappeared. It grew chilly 
 as they cut through the white mists of the great clouds; and, 
 as of old, Windekind threw his little blue mantle about Jo- 
 hannes. Thus they went on for hours, in fog and mist, and 
 the mighty vessel quivered with the speed of its flight. The 
 voyagers were still, and stayed, snug and safe, inside. On 
 they rushed, through rain and through snow, catching occa- 
 sional glimpses of wide tempestuous landscapes, with green 
 fields, foaming rivers, snow-capped mountains, glaciers, and 
 lakes of gleaming blue. 
 
 "Is the whole world as beautiful now, and as well cared for, 
 as my own country?" asked Johannes. 
 
 "The work of men is never complete," replied Windekind, 
 "and that is good for them, else they would become too pioud.
 
 THE QUEST 489 
 
 Asia and Africa are a long way yet from being in trim, possibly 
 they never will be. But then it is all very well as it is — very 
 well. A thousand years ago one could not have said that." 
 
 How long they had been speeding thus, Johannes could not 
 say. It seemed to him many hours. Then the great billows 
 of cloud grew more and more transparent, and again the green 
 land beneath them became visible, and also a deep, deep blue 
 sea. 
 
 "Is it Italy?" asked Johannes. Windekind nodded, and 
 Johannes hoped they would stay still a while so that he might 
 see the beautiful country of which the priest had told him. 
 Then the ship descended until people and houses could again 
 be distinguished, and Johannes saw a scene so grand, so rich, 
 so overwhelming, that he was startled and almost speechless. 
 He could only say, thinking of Marjon, "Oh, how shall I de- 
 scribe all this ?" 
 
 For the scene was exhibited with a fulness and variety that 
 left no time for close observation. It was a landscape and a 
 world-city in one — an extraordinary valley, down which the 
 vessel now drifted, full of trees, verdure, flowers, buildings, 
 statues, and people. Just before him he saw a gigantic azalea- 
 tree covered with red flowers; farther on, a long arcade, over- 
 grown with ivy, extending down to the foot of the vale. 
 Then a temple with tall, slender, white pillars, also overgrown 
 with ivy. In the middle of the valley stood a colossal piece of 
 sculpture — simply a head. Johannes saw the sun shining 
 upon it. And farther on there were structures unending, and 
 thousands and thousands of people. Altogether, it gave him 
 an impression of happiness and of beauty indescribable. 
 Johannes could only cry, "How splendid! How splendid!" 
 doing his utmost to take in everything, that he might remem- 
 ber and describe it to Marjon. But he felt that it would be 
 beyond his powers, and so deeply moved was he by the beauty 
 of the scene that he cried out, "It is too glorious! I cannot
 
 490 THE QUEST 
 
 bear it!" And he wondered if the ship was going to stop 
 there. 
 
 It did not stop, but floated farther on — not far now from 
 the ground — and followed the rocky coast. Johannes re- 
 membered the red rocks and the coast where he and Wistik 
 had sat when the Devil appeared. This country, also, looked 
 well-tilled and inhabited, after the manner of his own coun- 
 try. 
 
 Then they put out again, over the blue, deep sea, and ob- 
 served how it was navigated by large, swift vessels, without 
 either sail or steam. They seemed to glide over the water as 
 sledges over the snow, and the white foam flew high up over 
 the bows. 
 
 Then after a long voyage there loomed from the sea, like a 
 violet shadow, a large island; and, although it was broad day- 
 light, it seemed as if above that island a bright yellow-white 
 star were sparkling. 
 
 "That is our goal," said Windekind. "Take heed, now, 
 you are going to see something fine." 
 
 And when they came nearer, Johannes could not tell what 
 it was: whether the island was Nature's work, or some marvel 
 wrought by the hand of man. 
 
 For that whole great island, that from a distance had looked 
 Hke a mountain, appeared, when approached, to be entirely 
 covered with buildings — a piling up of pillars and roofs that 
 soared one above another, and converged to an awe-inspiring 
 dome. That crowning dome sparkled in the clear, sunlit air 
 like an arrested cloud — with the silvery, light green, and dark 
 blue splendor of a glacier covered with thousands of beauti- 
 fully sculptured, inverted icicles; and upon the top shone the 
 yellow-white light which, even in broad daylight, seemed 
 to be a star. 
 
 So immense and so numerous were the structures, that one 
 could not tell what the natural form of the island had been, 
 nor what had been made by human hands.
 
 THEQUEST 491 
 
 Coming still nearer, one could see green masses of foliage 
 filling all the spaces between the buildings, up to the very 
 top. The whole island seemed a miracle of art and nature; 
 of columns of pure white, of silver and silver-blue; of cupolas, 
 bronze-green or golden; while amidst them all was the dark 
 green of the dense groves and the shrubbery, above which rose 
 the tufted palms on their slender, slightly curved stems. 
 
 "Oh, Windekind," cried Johannes, '*is this a story?" 
 
 "This is a story," said Windekind, "as fine as any I ever 
 told you. But this one is true. Human beings first heard of 
 it through me, and then they resolved to build it as soon as 
 they could find time, and housekeeping was systematized. 
 It could have been somewhat finer, but still it came out very 
 nicely, especially when you reflect that they have had merely 
 a hundred years in which to work out the plan; considering, 
 also, that, when half completed, an earthquake destroyed it." 
 
 "What is it that glitters on that high dome at the summit of 
 the island? It looks like a distant star. Is it fire?" 
 
 "That is not fire, Johannes, but metal — a golden flame. 
 It is a piece of gilded metal, that always glows in the sunlight 
 as if it were burning. By means of that flame the people wish 
 to indicate their ardent love." 
 
 "Love for whom, Windekind — for one another, or for 
 God?" 
 
 "They know no difference, Johannes," said Windekind. 
 
 With radiant faces the pilgrims stood gazing at the spectacle; 
 and, shouting their joy, they sang again. Only a few of the 
 older ones appeared to have seen the island before. 
 
 The sea was now covered with large white vessels speeding 
 to and fro, and one could also see air-ships flying thither from 
 all points of the compass, like herons to their nesting-place. 
 
 Then Johannes' vessel settled down upon a great grassy plain 
 close to the shore, and the pilgrims alighted. They were em- 
 barrassed and bewildered now by all that surrounded them — 
 by the multitude of air-ships, and also by the people, among 
 whom they felt shy and strange.
 
 492 THEOUEST 
 
 Hundreds of these ships were now at rest — a briUiant spec- 
 tacle, all differently rigged and adorned, and patterned after 
 various birds. There were hawks and eagles, and giant beetles, 
 entirely of bronze, looking like gold. There were moths 
 of green-reflecting metal; and dragon-flies with wings of iri- 
 descent glass; wasps with bodies ringed with black and yellow; 
 butterflies having enormous yellow wings, marked with pea- 
 cock-eyes of blue, from which long pennants, black and 
 red, streamed out behind. 
 
 There was now considerable commotion throughout the 
 grassy plain, among those who, just arrived, were trying to 
 find their way. 
 
 On the coast, around the whole island, was an almost un- 
 broken series of cool terraces beneath white colonnades shaded 
 by the light lavender flowers of the glycine; and behind them 
 were small, white-stuccoed recesses overlooking the sea. There 
 the hundreds of thousands of pilgrims who annually came 
 to the feast were lodged and fed. 
 
 Johannes saw them sitting at long tables on which were 
 bread, fruit, and flowers. And above the sound of the foam- 
 ing surf, as the crystalline blue water broke in white spray 
 over the dull red rocks, cheerful talking and laughing could 
 be heard, and also the music of guitars. 
 
 Higher up, the island was clear and open. Here were sunny 
 parks with low flowering shrubs, and now and then a tall palm, 
 and everywhere temples and buildings for various purposes. 
 
 With his hand in Windekind's, Johannes glided over this, 
 unable to note all of the many things that met his gaze. He 
 saw, beneath him, close to the shore, large arenas for the 
 games and the races; also long buildings, with thousands of 
 columns, for the display of useful and ingenious articles and 
 implements. 
 
 A little higher were gardens with plants and animals, mu- 
 seums, observatories, immense libraries, and covered colon- 
 nades and assembly-rooms for scholars. After that came 
 theatres, in Hellenic form — semicircular — with white
 
 THEQUEST 493 
 
 marble seats. And every place was thronged with people, 
 in their tasteful, charming dress. The brown and the yellow 
 races were represented; also the very dark-colored ones, with 
 their flashing eyes, haughty bearing, and vigorous frames. 
 These wore brightly-colored silken garments, green and red, 
 embroidered with gold; but all who were white or fair were 
 soberly clad in soft, refined colors. 
 
 Still higher were collections of statues, marble and gilded 
 — many of them outside in the park, among the flowers, the 
 aloes, and the plashing fountains; others, beneath long por- 
 ticoes; and in large, low buildings there were sketches and 
 paintings, or statuettes wrought in metal or carved in wood. 
 
 Finally, still higher up the incline, close beside the great 
 middle temple which was the crown of the island, surrounded 
 by the serious silences of dark laurel and myrtle groves, were 
 the temples of music. 
 
 There was a variety of them. Some were lighter and more 
 ornamental — of brighter stone, and with steep, golden roofs; 
 others, massive and strong, of quiet grey limestone, with 
 green and red granite pillars, and arched roofs of bronze. 
 
 Windekind pointed out that each temple was dedicated 
 exclusively to one composer; and Johannes heard with joy 
 names that were well known to him in his own day. 
 
 "Which one shall we choose?" asked Windekind. "No- 
 where else upon earth can their works be heard as in any one 
 of these temples." 
 
 While he hesitated, with the name Beethoven on his lips, 
 Johannes saw coming over the grassy path between the rose- 
 colored flowering oleanders, a group of five majestic persons. 
 They were tall, powerful figures — four men and a woman. 
 The men were all elderly, one of them having silver-white, the 
 others thick grey hair. The woman was younger, and in- 
 describably noble and beautiful. They each wore a mantle 
 of the same amaranthine red, and upon the head a small 
 wreath of green myrtle, and each one held a flower. 
 
 They walked slowly and with dignity, and wherever they
 
 494 THEQUEST 
 
 went the people all greeted them. Those who had been chat- 
 ting were respectfully silent; those sitting or lying down stood 
 up; and those who were in their path hastily stepped aside. 
 
 "Who are those five people, Windekind.'" 
 
 "They are the five kings. Do you not see that they carry 
 my flower in their hands .? It is the blue, white, and gold Lily 
 of the Kings, which the people have evolved. Formerly it 
 did not exist. These are the noblest, wisest, strongest, the 
 purest and most worthy among human beings. In them are 
 united, in most perfect harmony, all of the human faculties. 
 They are poets, masters of speech, and sages, that purify and 
 elevate morals. They are regulators of labor, directors in busi- 
 ness, in taste, and in science. Not all are equally excellent, 
 nor are there always so many. The best are sought for and 
 elevated. But they bear no rank — they have no court, no 
 palace, no army, no realm. Their throne is where they seat 
 themselves; their kingdom is the whole world. Their power 
 consists in the beauty of their words, in their wisdom, and in 
 the love of their fellowmen. See how they are revered! Look 
 at those adoring women — doing obeisance as ever. There 
 are still the very same foolish ones among the young women." 
 
 And Windekind called Johannes' attention to the fair en- 
 thusiasts who attempted not only to kiss the hands of the Five, 
 but also to touch them with their flowers, which, thereby made 
 sacred as relics, were later to be cherished as mementoes. But 
 the sages smilingly motioned these aside, and entered the largest 
 of the music-temples — a mighty structure of smooth, cream- 
 white marble, without ornament, but pure in line, and nobly 
 harmonious in its proportions. It was round in form, having 
 a bronze roof without side-windows, and lighted only from 
 above. Over the entrance, in large gold letters, was the name 
 " Bach." * When the Five came in all the people stood up, 
 and waited until they were seated in the chairs reserved for 
 them. 
 
 And then Johannes heard exceedingly fine music. And 
 Windekind said, "This fountain is not yet exhausted, nor will 
 it be for ages to come." 
 
 * See note, page 520.
 
 THEQUEST 495 
 
 When they were again out-of-doors, and Johannes saw the 
 happiness of all those beautiful people, and the mood of solemn 
 devotion into which the music had put them, he suddenly 
 became depressed, and said: "Oh, Windekind, now that I 
 have seen all this, and know what it is possible for people to 
 be if only they are wise and good, what avails it all when I 
 have to return to that pitiful land of ugliness and folly and in- 
 justice ? And, alas, of what advantage is it to all those poor 
 people who are perhaps preparing for this lovely lite, but who 
 yet are never to see it ?" 
 
 Johannes looked imploringly at his friend, who was silently 
 meditating w^hile they slowly drifted still higher along a dense 
 grove of dark laurel, through which the happy, high spirited 
 people were proceeding to the great, the loftiest temple. 
 
 Said Windekind: "You do not yet comprehend the unity of 
 life, Johannes. However beautiful all this appears to you, it is 
 only a short step in advance. These are yet, and will continue 
 to be, human beings — subject to illness and death, to quarrels 
 and misunderstandings, to superstition and injustice. All that 
 now seems to you elevated and marvelous is but a wisp of 
 straw compared with the magnificence of the Father to whom 
 we all return. The victory is not here, but higher. And 
 whoever has made preparation, however humble, shall have 
 his rightful part in the final triumph." 
 
 Johannes did not fully understand, but eagerly drank in the 
 comfort of these mysterious words. Still musing upon them, 
 he stepped out of the dark, leafy woods upon an extraordinary 
 plain, and saw before him the great middle temple that formed 
 the summit of the island. 
 
 The sight of it was overwhelming, for it was almost fright- 
 fully and oppressively grand; and he saw all the oncoming 
 people stop, as though turned to stone. None ventured to 
 speak unless in whispers. 
 
 The plain was so large that those who had just reached the 
 border of the woods could not distinguish the hands nor the 
 heads of those who were entering the temple. The plain was
 
 496 THEOUEST 
 
 utterly bare — upon it was neither plant nor statue. It was 
 the leveled top of the natural hkIc — a reddish-grey granite, 
 smoothly polished, and rising gradually by low flights of steps 
 each twelve paces wide and one foot high. 
 
 The base of the temple was sombrely grand. Its shape 
 was oblong, the greatest length being from north to south, 
 showing an endless series of massive lotus-columns, close to- 
 gether, and all of the same reddish-grey stone. The eye was 
 bewildered by them, as if in a dark forest of pillars. The 
 steady stream of dot-like human forms appeared to be en- 
 gulfed in their shade. 
 
 These mighty columns, resting on straight and flat string- 
 courses, supported a broad terrace that surrounded the en- 
 tire temple. Upon this terrace was a layer of earth, whence 
 sprang a luxuriant growth of trees and shrubs, wide-spread- 
 ing sycamores, towering cypresses, and slender palms — all 
 overgrown and bound together by a veil of flowers and leafy 
 vines. 
 
 Then succeeded, higher up, a second series of pillars, sup- 
 porting another terrace covered with smaller shrubs. And 
 above that, still a third, whose columns were of brighter 
 stone — light-green and grey. The topmost row was of pure 
 white, against which the green of the plants was in clear 
 relief. 
 
 And above these, delicate and daring, soared a convergence 
 of groinings, with a maze of exquisite spires and pinnacles, 
 resembling a forest of stalagmites. Together they formed an 
 oval whose chief colors — steel-blue, dark and sparkling, light- 
 grey, and silver — resembled a cloud or a glacier; yet all har- 
 moniously fashioned by human hands. Above, on a colossal 
 tripod, glowed the emblem of love and life — the Golden 
 Flame! 
 
 Although thousands of people from every side were cease- 
 lessly pouring into the temple, and disappearing amid the 
 dark columns, it was very still there — so still that above the 
 sound of moving feet one could distinctly hear the babbling of
 
 THEQUEST 497 
 
 the brooks that, coursing through the verdant terraces, flowed 
 thence to the four corners of the plain. 
 
 Johannes tried to follow the soft speech of the people, but 
 he did not understand the language. Then Windekind, call- 
 ing his attention to a trio of persons — a vigorous father about 
 fifty years of age, and his two sons, slender, fine fellows 
 not far from twenty — said, "Listen to them!" It was 
 Dutch they were speaking — pure, mellifluous Dutch. 
 
 The father said: "Look, Gerbrand; the lowest columns are 
 so large that ten men could not encircle them. But within 
 the temple, in the great oval centre, there are a hundred col- 
 umns, far larger, that reach to the floor of the third 
 terrace. On the groined arches resting upon those columns 
 stand twice as many smaller pillars, which, rising somewhat 
 higher than the gallery of the third terrace, are attached 
 thereto by a system of buttresses. On these tw^o hundred 
 smaller pillars rests the enormous middle dome which over- 
 arches the oval hall. The dome is entirely of metal. The 
 dark blue is steel; the grey, aluminum; the bright green, 
 bronze. The pinnacles, arches, and ornamentations are all 
 of silver or silver-plated steel. In the four corner-spaces, 
 between square and oval, stand four towers, having small 
 gold-covered cupolas. Within these, elevators move up and 
 down, and through them the water also is raised for the ter- 
 races. 
 
 "The tall tripod at the top of the dome is of bronze, and the 
 flame is gilded bronze. The flame itself is twelve metres long, 
 and its tip is a hundred and eighty metres above the plain." 
 
 Gerbrand, the younger son, knitting his brows as he re- 
 garded the awe-inspiring spectacle, asked: "How many 
 people have worked upon it, father.?" 
 
 "Oh, more than a hundred thousand, for nearly a century. 
 But if the temple should again collapse, as once it did, ten 
 times as many more would eagerly come, to rebuild it in less 
 than half that time." 
 
 Drawing nearer, Johannes discerned, on the stone band
 
 498 THEQUEST 
 
 beneath the first terrace, colossal silver letters, in plain 
 Roman form. On the front a portion of a proverb was legi- 
 ble. The rest of it probably ran around the entire temple. 
 Johannes retained the majestic tenor of it, although he did not 
 comprehend the full meaning. Facing him was: 
 
 REDEUNT SATURNIA REGNA 
 
 and on the eastern side he read the first words, 
 
 lAM NOVA PROGENIES . . . 
 
 This was all he could distinguish. 
 
 They entered the forest of columns, and Johannes continued 
 to follow the trio closely. Through the solemn semi-darkness 
 all pressed gently on toward the steps that led to the higher 
 terraces. 
 
 On the second terrace stood thousands of statues, repre- 
 senting the great and famous of all the ages. Johannes was 
 delighted to hear what the sons and their father said about 
 them. They seemed best acquainted with the composers, 
 then with the dramatic poets, the sculptors, the painters, and 
 the scholars. They were most at a loss concerning the states- 
 men. 
 
 Gerbrand said, "Here is a warrior, father — Bismarck is 
 his name. When did he live, and what did he do .''" 
 
 Then the father said to his elder son, "Do you not know 
 when Bismarck lived, and what he did, Hugo?" 
 
 Hugo replied, "I think he lived in Bach's time, father; 
 but what he did I do not know." 
 
 "Yes, he lived about the time of Bach, or rather, that of 
 Brahms. He created the German Empire." 
 
 Said Gerbrand, "The German Empire, father! Where 
 is that?" 
 
 "There is no longer a German Empire, Gerbrand, although 
 there are millions of Germans. Such empires do not now 
 exist; but in that day they were thought to be something 
 very admirable."
 
 THE QUEST 499 
 
 And Hugo: "Was it as fine as the Chromatic Fantasie, 
 father, or the Pyramids?" 
 
 "It was something very different, my boy, but certainly not 
 so fine, for it was less lasting." 
 
 On the third and highest terrace, beneath the loftiest of the 
 white marble columns, and running around the entire temple, 
 was a frieze, sculptured in bas-relief. Upon it were groups of 
 figures, cut with most wonderful art, giving representative 
 scenes from the whole history of mankind. Among them, the 
 spectacle of the battles held the youths the longest. 
 
 "Look, father! Here again is a man being killed. Why 
 was that? What harm did he do?" 
 
 "That is Pertinax," replied the father, "a king of Rome, 
 killed by his soldiers because he was just." 
 
 "A man killed for being just! What strange people!" said 
 Hugo, smiling. 
 
 "They killed Socrates also, because he was wise, did they 
 not, father ? We saw that a little while ago," said Gerbrand. 
 
 "Yes, Gerbrand," said Hugo; "but indeed they also fought 
 for good reasons, did they not, father ? Socrates himself 
 fought, and Sophocles." 
 
 "And ^schylus," added the father. "He lost his hand at 
 Marathon. And Dante fought, and so did Byron." 
 
 "Shelley too, father?" asked Hugo. 
 
 "No, my boy." 
 
 "But, father," asked Gerbrand, "when is it right to fight, 
 and when is it not ?" 
 
 "It is right, my boys, when that which is the dearest and 
 most sacred must be protected from attack — whatever is 
 dearer to us than our lives. That is what iEschylus and 
 Socrates and Dante conceived to be their duty. They fought 
 for freedom — the greatest freedom of their time. And 
 should any beings come now and try to attack what we 
 term our liberty and our rights, we also would fight for 
 them."
 
 500 
 
 THE QUEST 
 
 "I wish that would happen," said Gerbrand. And the 
 others laughed. 
 
 "Did Beethoven fight, father?" asked Hugo. 
 
 "No, although his life, as well as that of Shelle)', was a 
 struggle in the cause of true liberty — at least for what he 
 held to be true liberty." 
 
 "But Beethoven wore a high, black hat, did he not, father ? 
 And Bach had his hair cut off, and wore a wig," said Ger- 
 brand. 
 
 "Mozart also," added Hugo. "I do not understand how 
 kings could do such queer things." 
 
 "How was it possible," exclaimed Gerbrand, "for these 
 people in their high hats and silly black clothes to look at one 
 another and not burst out laughing ?" 
 
 "My dear boys," said the father, "there is not a thing so 
 foolish, so ugly, or so bad, but even the best of men will do 
 it, or tolerate it, if only many take part in it, and it is a com- 
 mon error of their time. But that was a very queer age. At 
 the time such great and wise kings as Goethe, Shelley, and 
 Beethoven lived, ninety out of every hundred men lived like 
 the very beasts. Some never bathed their entire bodies. . . 
 
 "Think of it!" cried the youths. 
 
 "They wore soiled, hideous clothing, were rude and ill- 
 mannered, and had no conception of music nor of poetry." 
 
 "How could that be V exclaimed the two young men. 
 
 "Because it was thought that the best human living was 
 possible for only an occasional exception — for one in a hun- 
 dred, or one in a thousand. You think that very stupid, do 
 you not ? But at that time everybody felt so, even the kings." 
 
 "Not Shelley, though," exclaimed Hugo. 
 
 "No, not Shelley," said the father. "But it is now nearly 
 noon. We must not miss the Hall of the Hundred Pillars. 
 We agreed to go there, you remember, while we were still at 
 home with mother and the children." 
 
 The halls were decorated with inscriptions in many Ian-
 
 THEQUEST 501 
 
 guages — each with its own ornate characters. Johannes 
 recognized Sanskrit, Chinese, Arabic, Hebrew, and Greek. 
 He could read only a few of the sentences; but these he re- 
 tained, without understanding them: 
 
 "In la sua volontade e nostra pace," and "mite et 
 
 COGNATUM EST HOMINI DeUS." 
 
 The Hall of the Hundred Pillars had entrances from all 
 sides, on the same level, through the lowest and heaviest col- 
 onnades, and also along stairways descending from all the 
 terraces. The floor of the hall looked like a vast, snow- 
 covered plain, so white was the marble, and the astronomical 
 figures with which it was inlaid were all of silver. The hun- 
 dred pillars that gave the hall its name were of red granite, 
 and supported the central dome, which, spanning the im- 
 posing space by arch on arch, stood like a miracle of art. 
 There were no windows, but the light streamed in through 
 the open arches, and past the white and light blue pillarets of 
 the dome. Yet it was not possible, from below, to see the 
 sky. 
 
 The hall was already filled with people — thousands upon 
 thousands. Whispering softly, all pressed fonvard, and at 
 last stood still in silent expectation. Johannes followed his 
 fellow-countrymen. 
 
 "Look, boys," whispered the father, "these pillars are of 
 one piece — the largest stone columns in the world. In re- 
 mote antiquity, when, also, men were able to build great 
 structures, there were two like them in Rome; and we found 
 another one, half hewn, on the coast of Corsica. Then we 
 ourselves made ninety-seven others, and placed them all here, 
 to the honor of God." 
 
 "Father," whispered Gerbrand, "surely we are now the 
 happiest and the mightiest beings in the universe, are we 
 not.?" 
 
 But the father looked at him reprovingly, and said: "For 
 shame, boy! We are only poor blind earth-worms, and all 
 our happiness is misery, and all our magnificence is a sham,
 
 502 THEQUEST 
 
 compared with the splendor of the Truth. It is but a feeble 
 glimmering of the reality. To express this, we come hither 
 yearly; and it was to teach you this that I brought you with 
 me. Look up, and read what is written there." 
 
 Johannes' eyes followed the direction of the upraised hand, 
 and he saw a Greek proverb that ran around the dome in 
 colossal letters of gold. As interpreted by the father of the 
 two youths it read thus: "To the only God, who alone 
 IS THE Truth and the real Existence — our Father, 
 whom we love with all our hearts and all our un- 
 derstanding, AND FOR WHOSE SAKE WE LOVE ONE ANOTHER 
 AS WE LOVE OURSELVES." 
 
 Then the man showed his children a gold figure, at the 
 northern end of the hall, at which the eyes of all the people 
 were now directed, and said: 
 
 "Notice! There is the number of the hour; but beneath, 
 it says: ' There is tietther hour nor time.' Do you see? Re- 
 member that as long as you live. And now consider why we 
 have come here to-day. For a few moments the sun stands 
 at the summer solstice — its highest point. The temple is sd 
 built that just at that instant the sun's light comes through 
 the opening in the dome and touches the golden figure of the 
 hour. Then all of us — thousands on thousands from every 
 region of the world — will again in song solemnly pledge our- 
 selves to faithful love toward one another, and toward the 
 Father of us all." 
 
 After this the boys were silent, gazing with all the people at 
 the golden figure. And now that innumerable throng, in the 
 whole, vast space, became as still as death — as still as some 
 great forest before a storm, when not a leaf stirs. 
 
 Then, in mighty, resounding tones, a great bell began to 
 strike the hour; while the people, all in the utmost suspense, 
 counted the strokes. Before the last stroke fell, the golden 
 figure burst into flame, in the bright light of the sun. 
 
 Then, in unison, without any pause, all joined in one mighty 
 chorus, stately, solemn, and simple, that soared into the spa-
 
 THE QUEST 503 
 
 clous vault like a song of thanks and of promise in one — a 
 renewal for the year to come of the bond of love between God 
 and man. 
 
 And so strong and deep was their emotion that some sank 
 to their knees as if overcome, while others rested head or 
 hands upon the shoulders of those standing in front of them. 
 But the greater number stood erect, and sang loudly and 
 clearly, regarding the scene with bright, joyful, and spirited 
 looks. 
 
 Johannes himself felt thankful and happy beyond words — 
 like a child under his Father's blessing, in the heart of his 
 home. 
 
 Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrt ! ! ! went the alarm-clock on the black 
 mantel-shelf above the Dutch oven in Marjon's small kitchen. 
 The iron bed shuddered and creaked; and Marjon sprang up, 
 with the sleepy, mechanical haste of one accustomed to begin 
 work at dawn, to stop the alarm. 
 
 There stood the unpainted table, the oil-lamp, and the un- 
 washed coffee-set, and Marjon began to put things in order. 
 
 And out from the stifling, dark alcove came, one by one, 
 the seven children of Van Tijn — to wash themselves at the 
 kitchen pump and to dry themselves with one and the same 
 old hand-towel.
 
 XXIV 
 
 Already they had been twice to the hospital, on visitors' 
 days — Wednesday and Saturday — but they had not been 
 permitted to see Markus. 
 
 He still lay unconscious, and the doctor did not yet know 
 whether an operation would be necessary. 
 
 And when Johannes implored that they might only look 
 upon the face of their friend, to know if he was still alive, 
 it availed nothing. Their acquaintance with Dr. Cijfer or 
 with Professor Bommeldoos had no influence here. There 
 was no disposition to be indulgent. The feeling of hostility 
 toward his Brother was general, and permeated the humane, 
 scientific atmosphere of the hospital to such an extent that 
 Johannes also was received more coldly because he appeared 
 to be a relative of this man. For not even doctors and nurses 
 are exempt from the suspicion of being sensitive to the opinions 
 of others. 
 
 The strain of their sorrow was so great that Johannes and 
 Marjon each feared lest the other would be ill — they ate so 
 little and looked so worn, and their cheeks, although never very 
 round and blooming, grew so pale and sunken. 
 
 At last — at last, they might go, for their third call, and 
 join the stream of callers on Wednesday afternoon, from two 
 o'clock until four. Marjon carried some white and purple 
 asters; Johannes, a bunch of grapes bought with money care- 
 fully saved, cent by cent. 
 
 Entering the ward, they looked in great anxiety over the 
 two long rows of beds. They searched for the face they knew 
 so well, but did not find it. Timidly, they made inquiry of 
 the nurse who sat writing, in the middle of the ward, at a little 
 table covered with bandages and remedies. Without reply- 
 
 504
 
 THEQUEST 505 
 
 ing, she pointed to a bed. Then they saw the dark eyes, 
 turned toward them with a kind smile. 
 
 They had not recognized him, for his beard was gone, his 
 head enveloped with wrappings, and his face covered with 
 plasters. 
 
 He beckoned them, and extended his emaciated white hand. 
 They flew to him. 
 
 Two young men stood beside his bed. They were students. 
 One of them, who seemed to have just made an examination 
 of Markus, was rather gross in appearance, and had a flushed, 
 uneasy face. The perspiration stood in drops on his forehead. 
 The other stood by, indifferently, his hands in his pockets. 
 
 "Have you got at it ?" asked the latter. 
 
 "Confound it, no," replied the other, wiping his forehead 
 with his sleeve. "It's a thundering complicated case. 
 There's a fracture of the skull; but the paralysis I can't account 
 for. It's a mean trick of Snijman's to pick out such a business 
 for me, just to pester me. I '11 be sure to fail in the examina- 
 tion. 
 
 "Come, come, old fellow, you're in a pet. It's a pretty lit- 
 tle chance for you — one to brag about. Come to-night to 
 the quiz, and go through the brain anatomy again with me. 
 Bring your Henle along. I '11 give you such a lift you '11 
 astonish them, old man. But we must be off now, for it 's 
 visiting-day." 
 
 And, taking the arm of his comrade, who sighed and packed 
 up his instruments, he led him out of the ward. 
 
 "What do you think of the way they have fixed me up, 
 children?" asked Markus, cheerfully, as he took Marjon's 
 flowers — with his left hand, because he could not move the 
 other. 
 
 But neither Marjon nor Johannes could speak. They 
 stood with trembling lips, swallowing back their tears. Then 
 they sat down, one each side of the bed, and Marjon rested 
 her forehead on his helpless hand.
 
 5o6 THEOUEST 
 
 Johannes held out to him the grapes, and tried to greet him 
 in words; but he could not. 
 
 "Children," said Markus, gently, yet with a rebuke in his 
 tones, "I notice that you cry altogether too much. Do you 
 remember, Johannes, when you sat down in the street beside 
 the scissors'-wheel, and how I reproved you ? When one cries 
 so readily, it looks as it the great sorrow of mankind were not 
 felt. He who has once realized that, weeps no more over his 
 own little troubles; for the greater grief should hold him 
 bathed in tears, both day and night." 
 
 At these words the two controlled themselves in some 
 degree, and Marjon said: 
 
 " But this is not a trifling thing that they have done to you." 
 
 "It is not a trifling thino- that the world is so that this 
 could happen. That is frightful; but it remains equally 
 frightful whether this befell me or not. And that it has been 
 done to me, and I have submitted, is cause for joyfulness, not 
 for weeping." 
 
 Then said Johannes: 
 
 "But, dear Markus, what has it availed, and what will be 
 the good of it ? No one is sorry for it. No one will ever per- 
 ceive the significance of it. No one, at this instant, has any 
 further thought of you, nor of your words." 
 
 Markus, regarding him attentively, with an earnest ex- 
 pression, as if to urge upon him a deeper reflection, said: 
 
 "But, Johannes, do you not remember the story of that little 
 seed — the most diminutive of all seeds ? It falls to the 
 ground — is trodden under foot — no one sees it — it ap- 
 pears to be completely lost and dead. But in good time it 
 begins to germinate, and grows to be a plant. And the plant 
 bears new seeds, which are scattered by the wind. And the 
 new seeds become new plants, and the whole terrestrial globe 
 becomes too small for the might oi what proceeds from that 
 insignificant seed. Has Johannes forgotten me and my 
 words .?" 
 
 Johannes shook his head.
 
 THEQUEST 507 
 
 "Well, then, Johannes and Marjon are not the only ones 
 with ears to hear, are they ? The spark has fallen, and shines 
 in secret. The seed Hes in the dark ground, and waits its 
 time. 
 
 Gradually the ward began to fill with visitors. Relatives 
 were now sitting beside each bed. There were wives and 
 mothers with children, little and big, and some had babes at 
 the breast. A subdued murmuring filled the place, where the 
 smell of old and long-worn clothing mingled with the sharp 
 scent of the disinfectants. 
 
 "Stay with me, children, as long as is permitted. The 
 instrument is broken, and will soon cease to sound. Listen 
 to it so long as it vibrates." 
 
 "Are you going to leave us, Markus?" asked Johannes, 
 setting his teeth to keep command of himself. 
 
 "I have performed my task," said Markus. 
 
 "Already? Already?" they both asked. "We cannot 
 spare you. We might for a little while, but not for always." 
 
 "Where is your memory, Johannes ? You possess me 
 always, and some time I shall be still closer to you than I 
 now am." 
 
 "But, Markus, how can I, without you, help people in their 
 sorrow ? Indeed, I am far from knowing the way yet. It 
 seems as though I ought to be asking the way, for weeks to 
 come, day and night." 
 
 "Dear Johannes, I have said enough. To ask day and 
 night would help you no more than to think day and night 
 upon what I have already said to you. It seems — does it not 
 — as if I had spoken little, and done little, among men. But 
 recall how the same was said of old, and how it has never, 
 through many words, become clearer, but always more dim. 
 Where the plain commandments have not enough weight, 
 much speaking has not a particle of effect. Has not the best 
 already been said — two thousand years ago ? Millions have 
 torn and martyred one another on account of additions, because
 
 5o8 THEQUEST 
 
 of misinterpretations, explanations, and commentaries; but the 
 simple commandment, known of all, they have not kept. Con- 
 cerning the swaddling-cloths they have fought bitterly; but 
 the babe itself they have left to the svpine and the dogs." 
 
 They were permitted to stay throughout the time of visit- 
 ing, and Johannes related where he had been during the night 
 of his betrothal. 
 
 Marjon, having listened, asked: 
 
 "Markus, if he really saw the whole world as it is to be, 
 why did he neither see nor hear anything of Markus him- 
 self.?" 
 
 But Markus closed his eyes, as if weary of listening, laid 
 back his head with a contented smile, and said, gently: 
 
 "The faithful architect is not concerned about his own re- 
 nown, but about the work itself." 
 
 Then he indicated that he wished to rest; and, exchanging 
 looks, they slowly stood up, and with reluctant steps, absorbed 
 in deep thought, they turned away. 
 
 On Saturday, when they came again, they looked straight 
 over to Markus' bed, for now they knew where he lay. But 
 an icy fear came upon them when they caught sight of his face, 
 below the white swathing-cloths. It was like sallow wax, with 
 insunken eyes, and lay pressed into the pillow. They thought 
 he was dead. 
 
 And when they stopped, hesitating and trembling, the patient 
 in the cot next that of Markus motioned to them to come 
 nearer. 
 
 "Come on, you," said the man, a disreputable old fellow 
 with a bandage around his bald head, a crooked nose, and a 
 shaggy beard stained a yellow-brown with tobacco-juice. "He 
 isn't cold yet, but he's snoozin' away's steady's a new-born 
 babe. Isn't that so, Sjaak ?" 
 
 And Sjaak, the patient on the other side — a drunkard with 
 a broken leg, and a face full of red pimples — cried out: "Hear 
 me! I couldn 't sleep better meself — after a couple o' drinks."
 
 THEQUEST 509 
 
 "Just make yerselves easy," said the old fellow. "Don't 
 be upset about it. He'd be sorry if you went away again." 
 
 "A little less noise, number eight," called the nurse. "Talk 
 quietly." 
 
 "Is he your brother .f"' asked Sjaak, in a whisper this time. 
 Johannes nodded. 
 
 "They've given him the very devil," said the old man, "just 
 as they gave it to me. Though I believe they served me 
 about right." 
 
 "I'm askin' a great deal," said Sjaak; "but if we've both 
 always got to stay in this here boardin'-house — him and me 
 — why, then, I'd like to ask the good Lord not to let him kick 
 the bucket before I kicks it. Because if I've got to stay here 
 alone with that old red-nose there, and my own damn wicked 
 carcass, then — hi! hi! hi!" 
 
 Then came a sudden outburst of maudlin sobs, due, no 
 doubt, to a condition of enforced abstinence. 
 
 "Silence!" called the Sister, sternly. 
 
 Markus waked up and greeted his two loved ones. Then 
 he looked at his neighbors, right and left, and asked: 
 
 "Have you been childish again, Sjaak? I heard you, in- 
 deed. 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
 
 510 THEOUEST 
 
 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 / 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 whim- 
 sical grin, and he let himself fall back on his pillow, with a thud. 
 There he lay, dumfounded, 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 Windeklnd 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
 
 THE QUEST 511 
 
 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 be- 
 side 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, znd I only a housemaid! That doesn't bring in 
 much. I think we shall yet fetch up in a tingel-tangel." ^ 
 
 "It cannot make any difference to me where we find our- 
 selves, 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." 
 
 1 A kind of cheap music-hall.
 
 512 THEQUEST 
 
 "Children," said Markus, "out of the word springs the deed, 
 and out of the deed springs Hfe. And every one who speaks 
 the good word creates the deed and fosters Hfe." 
 
 "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, hut 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 pa- 
 tience. For him who draws nigh to the Father, and who for- 
 gets 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 con- 
 tinues 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 beard- 
 less face, and brown hair which curled behind his ears and 
 about his carefully shaven neck. He had a hard and haughty
 
 THE QUEST 
 
 513 
 
 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 calcula- 
 tion 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 re- 
 sults, 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, ex- 
 pecting 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. 
 
 And Old Bram, on the other side: 
 
 "Just missed him! Gone — this mornin'!" 
 
 "Gone!" exclaimed Johannes, terrified and not under- 
 standing. "Where?" 
 
 "Well," replied Sjaak, "if he'd only come back and tell me 
 where, I'd know more than I do." 
 
 And Bram, whom Sjaak could not see, on account of the 
 screen, said to Marjon: 
 
 "He promised me," striking the woolen covers with his fist, 
 "that I'll not be lost. He promised it, and I count on it. I 
 just do!" 
 
 "What has happened to him?" asked Marjon, gradually 
 comprehending. 
 
 "They operated on him," said Sjaak. "They got the ash- 
 can out of his brains. If he'd lived, then he'd 'a' walked 
 again. He'd 'a' left the premises now, if he'd only lived." 
 
 "Come with me, Marjon," said Johannes; and he led her 
 away. Then softly, "Shall we ask to see him — now ?" 
 
 Marjon, pale as death, but calm, replied: "Not I, Jo. I 
 
 S14
 
 THE QUEST 515 
 
 want to keep the living picture before me as a last remem- 
 brance, not the dead one." 
 
 Johannes, as pale as she, silently acquiesced. 
 
 Then he went to the head nurse and asked, softly and 
 modestly : 
 
 "When is the funeral to be, Sister?" 
 
 The Sister, a small, trim, pale and spectacled lady, with a 
 rather sour but yet not heartless face, gave the two a swift 
 glance, and said, somewhat nervously and hurriedly: 
 
 "Oh, you mean number seven, do you not .? Yes.? Well, we 
 know nothing about him. There is indeed no family, is there ? 
 There was no statement of birth — no ticket of removal — 
 nothing. There is — ah . . . there is to be no funeral." 
 
 "No funeral. Sister!" exclaimed Marjon. "But what then ? 
 What — what is to be done with . . . with him ?" 
 
 Then the nurse, with a scientific severity probably more 
 cruel than she purposed, said: 
 
 "The cadaver goes to the dissecting-rooms, Miss." 
 
 For a time the two stood speechless — completely dismayed 
 and horrified. They had not thought of that possibility — 
 they were not prepared for such a thing. They both felt it 
 unbearably gruesome, now that they faced the fact, and were 
 without advice. 
 
 "Is there no help for it. Sister?" asked Johannes, stammer- 
 ing in his confusion. "Can it not . . . can it not . . . 
 from the poor fund. . . ?" 
 
 He comprehended that it would be a question of money, 
 but he could see no relief. 
 
 More practical, Marjon immediately asked, "What would 
 it cost, Sister ?" 
 
 "I am sorry. Miss," replied the nurse, her feelings now 
 really touched for them, "but I fear you have come too late. 
 You ought to have asked about that in advance. The pro- 
 fessor has given express orders." 
 
 "Twenty-five gulden, Sister? Would that be enough?" 
 asked Marjon, perseveringly.
 
 5i6 ' THE (^UEST 
 
 The Sister shrugged her shoulders. 
 
 "Possibly, if you ask the professor, and if you can prove 
 that you belong to the family. But I am afraid it is too late." 
 The two turned away in silence. 
 
 "What shall we do, Marjon ?" asked Johannes, when they 
 were in the street. 
 
 "There is no use in going to that professor," said Marjon. 
 "He's a conceited fool — bound to have his own way. But 
 it's a matter of money." 
 
 "I have nothing, Marjon," said Johannes. 
 
 "Neither have I, Jo — at least, nothing to begin with. But 
 we must go after the people who Jo have something. You 
 know who." 
 
 "It is miserable work, Marjon." 
 
 "It is that; but we shall maybe get still harder work on 
 his account. Don't you think so?" 
 
 "Yes, of course; but neither will I shun it. I am going, 
 now. I know well where you want me to go." 
 
 "Good! They are the richest, are they not .^ But I, too, am 
 going out to get something. You might not succeed there." 
 
 "Where are you going?" 
 
 "Where there is money, Jo, — to the circus, and to Vrede- 
 best." 
 
 "Have you enough to get there with ?" 
 
 "Yes. I've enough for that." 
 
 Great was the indignation in the Roodhuis and Van Tijn 
 households when they heard of the event. Sentimentality, 
 the enjoyment of the sensational, and attachment to 
 tradition — - all this so moved the good women that their 
 meagre purses contributed, without delay, three gulden and 
 twenty-four cents. 
 
 In the meantime Johannes dragged himself to Dolores' villa. 
 
 In the drawing-room, beside a brightly flaming wood fire, 
 
 sat Van Lieverlee engaged in lively conversation with two
 
 THE QUEST 517 
 
 young-lady callers, for whom the countess was pouring tea. 
 Into this circle came Johannes, with his sad heart and his 
 lugubrious petition. 
 
 He entered hurriedly, awkwardly, abruptly, without heed-, 
 ing the astonished and disdainful looks of the visitors, nor 
 the very evident consternation which his poverty-stricken 
 appearance, his untoward entrance, and his melancholy tid- 
 ings made upon host and hostess. 
 
 "But, Johannes," said Van Lieverlee, "I thought you were 
 more philosophical and had higher ideas than that. It seems 
 to me that — for your friend who claimed to be a magician, and 
 for yourself who believed in him — it makes a sad lot of bother 
 what happens to the dust out of which his temporal presence 
 was formed." 
 
 "I thought," replied Johannes, "that as you are now a Cath- 
 olic, you might perhaps feel that you could do something 
 for. . . ." 
 
 "Certainly," said Van Lieverlee, scornfully, "if your friend 
 also were a Catholic. Was he ?" 
 
 "No, Mijnheer, " replied Johannes. 
 
 "But, Johannes," said the countess, "why was not your 
 friend in a burial club ? Nowadays all people of his class be- 
 long to such clubs. Is that not so, Freule ?" 
 
 "Of course," replied the Honorable Lady. "Every decent 
 poor person belongs to a club. But it's astonishing how 
 people will complain of their poverty and yet be so thought- 
 less and careless. " 
 
 "Yes, astonishing," sighed the other visitor. 
 
 "Then you will do nothing for me?" asked Johannes, not 
 without a touch of bitterness in his tones. 
 
 The countess looked at Van Lieverlee, who frowned and 
 shook his head. 
 
 "No, dear Johannes. For anything else, quite willingly; 
 but for this there seems to be no justification." 
 
 A whole night and day passed in which nothing could be
 
 5i8 THE QUEST 
 
 done, since Marjon had not yet returned; and the three gulden 
 and twenty-four cents had only increased by very slow degrees 
 to about five gulden. 
 
 At last, on Saturday forenoon, a carriage drew up to the 
 door of the little coffee-house, and out stepped a stately figure 
 in black, which, with its old-time jetted bonnet, heavy rustling 
 black-silk skirt, full mantilla, and a dainty, lavenderlike 
 suggestion of linen chests, and of choice silken souvenirs, 
 entirely filled the narrow entrance. 
 
 "Aunt Serena!" cried Johannes. And in a quick impulse 
 of warm affection he threw his arms around her. 
 
 "It is herself!" said Marjon, excited by her success. "And 
 I 've got ten gulden from the dark woman, who is not so bad 
 as I thought she was." 
 
 Aunt Serena received a cup of coffee, and was soon on good 
 terms with the Roodhuis family. 
 
 In the same carriage that had brought her, Marjon and 
 Johannes drove with her to the hospital. They were sure 
 of success, now, relying upon Aunt Serena's wealth. 
 
 But you will not be surprised to hear that they arrived too 
 late — that the doorman, and the doctor on duty, gave them 
 positive assurance that, for all the gold in the world, there 
 could now be no question of burial — because no one could 
 reassemble what had once been the body of their friend. 
 
 "Wretches!" muttered Marjon, as they went homeward. 
 But Johannes cried out: "Oh, Marjon, Marjon, the time is 
 not yet come for men to honor their kings." 
 
 There was mourning only In the dark alcove behind the 
 drinking-room of the total-abstainers' coffee-house; but there 
 the mourning, the sobbing and the sighing, were genuine. 
 
 Before going away. Aunt Serena remarked: 
 
 "You see, the golden apples of my little tree were good for 
 something, after all."
 
 THE QUEST 519 
 
 "Ah, Aunt Serena," replied Johannes, "do not think me 
 proud. I did not come to you before, because I was ashamed, 
 even though you had said I need not be. But he has cured me 
 of looking down upon others because they do not yet think as 
 I do." 
 
 "Then you will not be too proud to cherish my little apple- 
 tree, if I leave it for you to transplant into your own garden ?" 
 
 And she laughingly continued: 
 
 "That is not so kindly intentioned as it appears to be. I 
 have a mischievous pleasure in thinking of your embarrassment 
 at not knowing how to use it better than I did." 
 
 "That is naughty of you, Aunt Serena," said Marjon. 
 
 "One thing I know," said Johannes. "I shall spread 
 broadcast, the 'little apples,' that from them new trees may 
 grow; for he taught us that." 
 
 "Good! You must come, some time, and explain that to 
 me. God bless you both! And God bless your work, my 
 children." 
 
 "God bless you, Aunt Serena! Give Daatje our greetings." 
 
 And now I have told you all that I had to tell about Little 
 Johannes.
 
 NOTES 
 
 Page 8, Windekind = Child of the JVinde or Windflower. 
 
 " 48, Wistik = Would that I knew. 
 
 " " Kribblegauw = Quarrel = quick. 
 
 *♦ 78, Pluizer = Shredder. 
 
 " 158, Rust-oord = Place of repose. 
 
 " " Nooit-gedacht = Beyond thought. 
 
 " " Gouda = Name of town. 
 
 " 381, Soos = Abbreviation of Societeit, or Club. 
 
 " 388, Waan = Error. 
 
 " '* Bangeling = Little coward. 
 
 " 389, Ginnegap = Giggler. 
 
 " " Labbekak = Duffer, 
 
 ** *• Goedzak = Goody-goody. 
 
 " 494, Bach = P'ountain.
 
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