Yes. He was lying among the sand-hills. The cheerful sunshine warmed
him; he breathed the fresh morning air; a filmy mist hung over the woods
beyond. He saw the tall beech-tree by the pool, and the roof of his own
home rising above the shrubbery. Bees and beetles were buzzing around
him, overhead a lark was singing; in the distance he could hear dogs
barking and the hum of the neighbouring town. It was all real, beyond a
doubt.
What then had he dreamed, and what was true? Where was Windekind? And
the rabbit? He saw nothing of either. Only Presto, who sat as close to
him as possible and looked at him expectantly.
'Can I have been walking in my sleep?' Johannes murmured softly to
himself.
By his side there was a rabbit's burrow; but there were so many in the
down. He sat up to see more plainly. What was this in his tightly
clasped fingers? A glow flashed through him from head to foot as he
opened his hand. In it lay a bright little gold key.
For a few moments he sat silent.
'Presto,' said he then, and the tears almost came into his eyes,
'Presto. Then it _was_ true!'
Presto sprang up, and tried by barking to make his master understand
that he was hungry and wanted to go home.
Home? To be sure. Johannes had not thought of that, and he did not
particularly care to go. However, he presently heard his name called by
loud voices. Then he began to understand that his proceedings would
certainly not be regarded as right and satisfactory, and that far from
kindly words awaited him on his return.
For a moment he could hardly be sure whether his tears of joy had not,
in vexation, turned to tears of fear and contrition; but then he
remembered Windekind, who was now his friend, his friend and ally; and
the Elfin King's gift; and the splendid, indisputable reality of all
that had happened;--and so he made his way homeward calmly, and prepared
for whatever might betide.
It fell out as he had anticipated. But he had not imagined that the
distress and alarm of the house-hold could be so serious a matter. He
must solemnly promise never again to be so naughty and heedless. This
quite restored his presence of mind.
'That I cannot promise,' he said very resolutely.
They looked at him in amazement. He was questioned, coaxed, threatened.
But he thought of Windekind and was firm. What did he care for
punishment so long as he had Windekind for his friend--and what would he
not endure for Windekind's sake? He clutched the little key tightly to
his breast and shut his mouth firmly, answering every question with a
shrug of his shoulders.
'I cannot promise,' was all he replied.
But his father said: 'Leave him in peace; he is quite in earnest about
it. Something strange must have happened to him. He will tell us all
about it some day.'
Johannes smiled, ate his breakfast in silence, and crept up to his
little room. There he nipped off a bit of the blind-cord, slipped it
through his precious little key and hung it round his neck next to his
breast. Then he very contentedly went to school.
Things went ill with him at school that day. He knew none of his lessons
and paid no attention at all. His thoughts were constantly wandering to
the pool, and the wonderful things which had happened last evening. He
could scarcely believe that a friend of the fairy king's could be
expected and required to do sums and conjugate verbs. But it had all
been true, and no one there knew anything about it, or would believe it
or understand it; not even the master, however cross he might be,
calling Johannes an idle little boy in a tone of great contempt. He took
the bad marks he had earned with a light heart, and did the task set him
as a punishment for his inattention.
'You, none of you understand anything about it. You may scold me as much
as you please. I am Windekind's friend, and Windekind is worth more to
me than all of you put together. Ay, with the master into the bargain!'
This was not respectful of Johannes. But his estimation of his
fellow-creatures had not been raised by all the evil he had heard said
of them the evening before.
But, as is often the case, he was not yet wise enough to use his wisdom
wisely, or, better still, to keep it to himself.
When the master went on to say that man alone of all creatures was
endowed by God with speech, and appointed lord over all other animals,
Johannes began to laugh. This cost him a bad mark and serious reproof.
And when his next neighbour read the following sentence out of an
exercise-book: 'The age of my wilful aunt is great, but not so great as
that of the Sun'--parsing 'the Sun' correctly as feminine, Johannes
shouted out loudly, correcting him: 'Masculine, masculine!'
Every one laughed excepting the master, who was amazed at such utter
stupidity as he thought it, and he desired Johannes to remain in school
and write out a hundred times: 'The age of my wilful aunt is great, but
not so great as that of the Sun (feminine), and greater still is my
arrogant stupidity.'
His school-fellows had departed, and Johannes sat alone writing, in the
great empty school-room. The sun shone in brightly, making the
dust-motes glitter in its beams, and painting the wall with patches of
light which crept round as time went on. The master, too, was gone,
slamming the door behind him. Johannes had just got to the fifty-second
'wilful aunt' when a tiny, brisk mouse, with black, beady little eyes
and erect ears, came out of the farthest corner of the room and ran
noiselessly along by the wall. Johannes kept as still as death, not to
scare the pretty little thing; but it was not shy and came close to
where he was sitting. It looked sharply about for a minute or two, with
its small, bright eyes; then with one spring leaped on to the bench, and
with a second on to the desk on which Johannes was writing.
'Well done!' said he half to himself, 'you are a very bold little
mouse.'
'I ought to know whom I should be afraid of,' said a wee-wee voice, and
the mouse showed his little white teeth as if he were laughing.
Johannes was by this time quite used to marvels; still, this made him
open his eyes very wide. Here, in school, in the middle of the day--it
was incredible.
'You need not be afraid of me,' said he, very gently for fear of
frightening the mouse. 'Did Windekind send you?'
'I am sent to tell you that the master was quite right, and that you
thoroughly deserved your extra task.'
'But it was Windekind who told me that the sun was masculine. He said he
was his father.'
'Yes; but no one else need know it. What have men to do with that? You
must never discuss such delicate matters with men; they are too gross to
understand them. Man is an astonishingly perverse and stupid creature
that only cares to catch or kill whatever comes within his reach. Of
that we mice have ample experience.'
'But why then, little mouse, do you live among men? Why do you not run
away to the woods?'
'Oh, that we cannot do now. We are too much accustomed to town living.
And so long as we are prudent, and always take care to avoid their traps
and their heavy feet, we get on very well among men. Fortunately we are
very nimble. The worst of it is, that man ekes out his own slowness by
an alliance with the cat; that is a great grievance. But in the woods
there are owls and hawks, and we should all be starved. Now, Johannes,
mind my advice--here comes the master.'
'Mouse, mouse; do not go away. Ask Windekind what I am to do with my
little key. I have tied it round my neck, next my skin. But on Saturday
I am tubbed, and I am so afraid that it will be found. Tell me, where
can I hide it?'
'Underground, always underground, that is always safest. Shall I keep it
for you?'
'No, not here in school.'
'Then bury it out in the sand-hills. I will tell my cousin the
field-mouse that he must take care of it.'
'Thank you, little mouse.'
Tramp, tramp! In came the master. While Johannes was dipping his pen the
mouse had vanished. The master, who wanted to go home, let Johannes off
the other forty-eight lines.
For two days Johannes lived in constant dread. He was kept strictly
within sight, and had no opportunity of slipping off to the sand-hills.
It was already Friday, and still the precious key was about his neck.
The following evening he would inevitably be stripped; the key would be
discovered and taken from him--his blood turned cold at the thought. He
dared not hide it in the house or garden--no place seemed to him safe
enough.
Friday afternoon, and dusk was creeping down! Johannes sat at his
bedroom window, gazing with longing at the distance, over the green
shrubs in the garden to the downs beyond.
'Windekind, Windekind, help me!' he whispered anxiously.
He heard a soft rustling of wings close at hand, he smelt the scent of
lilies of the valley, and suddenly heard the sweet, well-known voice.
Windekind sat by him on the window-sill, waving the bells of a lily of
the valley on their slender stems.
'Here you are at last!' cried Johannes; 'I have longed for you so much!'
'Come with me, Johannes, we will bury your little key.'
'I cannot,' said Johannes sadly.
But Windekind took him by the hand and he felt himself wafted through
the still evening air, as light as the wind-blown down of a dandelion.
'Windekind,' said Johannes, as they floated on, 'I love you so dearly. I
believe I would give all the people in the world for you, and Presto
into the bargain.'
'And Simon?'
'Oh, Simon does not care whether I love him or not. I believe he thinks
it too childish. Simon loves no one but the fish-woman, and that only
when he is hungry. Do you think that Simon is a common cat, Windekind?'
'No, formerly he was a man.'
Whrrr--bang! There went a fat cockchafer buzzing against Johannes.
'Can you not look where you are going?' grumbled the cockchafer, 'those
Elves fly abroad as though the whole air were theirs by right. That is
always the way with idlers who go flitting about for pleasure; those
who, like me, are about their business, seeking their food and eating as
hard as they can, are pushed out of their road.' And he flew off,
scolding loudly.
'Does he think the worse of us because we do not eat?' asked Johannes.
'Yes, that is the way of cockchafers. According to them, the highest
duty is to eat a great deal. Shall I tell you the history of a young
cockchafer?'
'Ay, do,' said Johannes.
'There was a pretty young cockchafer who had just crept out of the
earth. That was a great surprise. For a whole year he had sat waiting in
the dark earth, watching for the first warm summer evening. And when he
put his head out of the clod, all the greenery, and the waving grass,
and the singing-birds quite bewildered him. He had no idea what to be
about. He touched the blades of grass with his feelers, spreading them
out in a fan. Then he observed that he was a male cockchafer, very
handsome in his way, with shining black legs, a large, fat body, and a
breastplate that shone like a mirror. As luck would have it, he at once
saw, not far off, another cockchafer, not indeed so handsome as himself,
but who had come out the day before and who was quite old. Very
modestly, being still so young, he crept towards the other.
'What do you want, my friend?' said the second cockchafer rather
haughtily, seeing that the other was a youngster, 'do you wish to ask me
the way?'
'No, I am obliged to you,' said the younger one civilly, 'but I do not
know what I ought to be doing. What is there for cockchafers to do?'
'Dear me,' said the other, 'do not you know that much? Well, I cannot
blame you, for I was young myself once. Listen, then, and I will tell
you. The principal thing in a cockchafer's life is to eat. Not far from
this is a delicious lime-walk which was placed there for us, and it is
our duty to eat there as diligently as we can.'
'Who put the lime-walk there?' asked the younger beetle.
'Well, a great being who means very kindly to us. He comes down the
Avenue every morning, and those who have eaten most he takes away to a
splendid house where a beautiful light shines, and where chafers are all
happy together. Those, on the other hand, who, instead of eating, spend
the night in flying about are caught by the Bat.'
'What is that?' asked the young one.
'A fearful monster with sharp teeth who comes flying down on us all on a
sudden and eats us up with a horrible crunch.
As the chafer spoke they heard a shrill squeak overhead which chilled
them to the very marrow.
'Hark! There he is!' cried the elder, 'beware of him, my young friend,
and be thankful that I have given you timely warning. You have the whole
night before you. Make good use of your time. The less you eat, the
greater the risk of the bat's seizing you. And none but those who choose
a serious vocation in life ever go to the house where the beautiful
light is. Mark that; a serious vocation.'
Then the chafer, who was by a whole day the elder, disappeared among the
blades of grass, leaving the other greatly impressed.
'Do you know what a vocation is, Johannes? No? Well, the young chafer
did not know. It had something to do with eating--he understood that.
But how was he to find the lime-walk? Close at hand stood a slender but
stalwart grass-stem, waving softly in the evening air. This he firmly
clutched with his six crooked legs. It seemed a long journey up to the
top, and very steep. But the cockchafer was determined to reach it.
'This is a vocation!' he thought to himself, and began to climb with
much toil. He went but slowly and often slipped back; but he got on, and
when at last he found himself on the slender tip, and rocked with its
swaying, he felt triumphant and happy. What a view he had from thence!
It seemed to him that he could see the whole world. How blissful it was
to be surrounded by air on all sides! He eagerly breathed his fill. What
a wonderful feeling had come over him! Now he craved to go higher!'
'In his rapture he raised his wing-cases and quivered his gauzy wings.
Higher! and yet higher I His wings fluttered, his legs released the
grass-stem, and then--oh joy! Whoo-oo I He was flying--freely and
gladly, in the still, warm evening air!'
'And then?' said Johannes.
'The end is not happy. I will tell it you some day later.'
They were hovering over the pool. A pair of white butterflies fluttered
to meet them.
'Whither are you travelling, elves?' they asked.
'To the large wild rose-tree which blooms by yonder mound.'
'We will go with you; we will go too!'
The rose-bush was already in sight in the distance, with its abundance
of pale-yellow sheeny blossoms. The buds were red and the open flowers
were dashed with red, as if they remembered the time when they were
still buds.
The wild down-rose bloomed in peaceful solitude, and filled the air with
its wonderfully sweet odours. They are so fine that the down-elves live
on nothing else. The butterflies fluttered about and kissed flower after
flower.
'We have come to place a treasure in your charge,' cried Windekind.
'Will you keep it safe for us?'
'Why not--why not?' whispered the rose. 'It is no pain to me to keep
awake--and I have no thought of going away unless I am dragged away. And
I have sharp thorns.'
Then came the field-mouse--the cousin of the school-mouse--and burrowed
quite under the roots of the rose-tree. And there he buried the little
key.
'When you want it again you must call me; for you must on no account
hurt the rose.'
The rose twined its thorny arms thickly over the entrance and took a
solemn oath to guard it faithfully. The butterflies were witnesses.
Next morning Johannes awoke in his own little bed, with Presto, and the
clock against the wall. The cord with the key was gone from round his
neck.