VIII

'Now he will come back,' thought Johannes, the first time the snow had

melted here and there, and the snowdrops peeped out in bunches. 'Will he

come now?' he asked of the snowdrops. But they did not know, and stood

there with hanging heads, looking down at the earth as if they were

ashamed of their haste to come out, and would gladly creep back again.

If only they could have done so! The numbing east wind soon began to

blow again, and the snow drifted deep over the foolish, forward little

things. Some weeks later came the violets; their sweet smell betrayed

them among the brushwood; and when the sun had shone warmly on the mossy

ground the pale primroses came out by hundreds and thousands.

The shy violets with their fine fragrance were the mysterious harbingers

of coming splendour, but the glad primroses were the glorious reality.

The waking earth had caught and captured the first sunbeams and turned

them into a golden jewel.

'Now--now he will certainly come!' thought Johannes. He eagerly watched

the leaf-buds on the trees as they slowly swelled day by day and freed

themselves from the bark, till the first pale-green tips peeped out

between the brown scales. Johannes would stand gazing for long at the

little young leaves--he could never see them move, but if he only turned

round, they seemed to have grown bigger. 'They dare not, so long as I am

looking at them,' thought he.

The shade had already begun to be green. Still Windekind did not come,

no dove had settled near him, no little mouse had spoken to him. When he

spoke to the flowers they merely nodded and never answered.

'My punishment is not yet ended,' thought he.

One sunny spring morning he went to the pond by the great house. The

windows were all wide open. Had the people who lived there come back?

The bird-cherry which grew by the water-side was entirely covered with

fresh leaves; every twig had a crop of delicate green winglets. On the

grass by the tree lay a young girl; Johannes could only see that she had

a light-blue dress and fair hair. A robin, sitting on her shoulder, fed

out of her hand. She suddenly turned her head and looked at Johannes.

'Good-day, little man!' said she, with a friendly nod.

Johannes felt a glow from head to foot. Those were Windekind's eyes;

that was Windekind's voice.

'Who are you?' he asked. His lips trembled with excitement.

'I am Robinetta, and this is my bird. He will not be afraid of you. Are

you fond of birds?'

The Redbreast was not afraid of Johannes; it flew on to his arm. This

was just as it used to be. The being in blue must be Windekind.

'And tell me what your name is, boy,' said Windekind's voice.

'Do you not know me? Do you not know that my name is Johannes?'

'How should I know that?'

What did this mean? For it was the sweet familiar voice, and those were

the same dark, heavenly-deep blue eyes.

'Why do you look at me so, Johannes? Have you ever seen me before?'

'Yes I have, indeed.'

'You must surely have dreamed it.'

'Dreamed it?' thought Johannes. 'Can I have dreamed it? Or can I be

dreaming now?'

'Where were you born?' he inquired.

'A long way from hence, in a great town.'

'Among human beings?'

Robinetta laughed--it was Windekind's laugh. 'Why, I should think so.

Were not you?'

'Oh yes, I was too.'

'Do you object to that? Do you not like human beings?'

'No. Who could?'

'Who?--Well, Johannes, you are a very strange little boy. Do you like

beasts better?'

'Oh, much better,--and flowers.'

'So do I myself sometimes; just for once in a while. But it is not

right. We ought to love our fellow-men, my father says.'

'Why is it not right? I love whom I choose, whether it is right or not.'

'Fie, Johannes! Have you no parents or any one to take care of you? And

do you not love them?'

'Yes,' said Johannes thoughtfully, 'I love my father. But not because it

is right--nor yet because he is a man.'

'Why then?'

'That I do not know,--because he is not like other men; because he too

is fond of birds and flowers.'

'And so am I, Johannes, as you may see.' And Robinetta called the robin

to sit on her hand and talked to him fondly.

'That I know,' replied Johannes, 'and I love you very much.'

'Already? That is quick work!' laughed the girl. 'And whom, then, do you

love best?'

Johannes hesitated. Should he utter Windekind's name? The fear that he

might accidentally speak it in the presence of other persons was never

out of his thoughts. And yet, was not this fair-haired creature in blue

Windekind in person? How else could she give him such a sense of rest

and gladness?

'You,' he suddenly replied, looking full into those deep blue eyes. He

boldly made a complete surrender; but he was a little alarmed

nevertheless, and anxiously awaited her reception of his precious

offering.

Robinetta laughed again, a light clear laugh; but she took his hand and

her look was no colder nor her voice less full of feeling.

'Why, Johannes,' said she, 'what have I done to deserve it all at once?'

Johannes made no reply, but stood looking at her with trustful eyes.

Robinetta rose and laid her arm on his shoulder. She was taller than he.

Thus they wandered on through the wood, gathering great bunches of

cowslips till they could have hidden under the mass of bright yellow

blossoms. The robin flew, as they went on, from branch to branch, and

watched them with his glittering little black eyes.

They did not talk much, but looked at each other now and then, with a

side glance. They were both embarrassed by this meeting and did not know

what to think of each other.

But Robinetta had soon to turn back. It was growing late.

'I must go now, Johannes. But will you come and walk with me again? I

think you are a nice little boy,' she said as they turned round.

'Weet, weet!' piped the robin, and flew after her.

When she was away and he had only her image left to think of, he had not

a moment's doubt as to who she was. She it was to whom he had given his

friendship: the name of Windekind faded from his mind, and that of

Robinetta took its place.

And now everything was the same to him again as it had formerly been.

The flowers nodded gaily, and their scent drove away the melancholy

home-sickness which he had felt and encouraged now and then. Amid the

tender greenery, in the warm, soft breeze of spring, he all at once felt

himself at home, like a bird that has found its nest. He spread out his

arms and drew a deep breath; he was so happy. As he went homewards the

figure in light blue with yellow hair, floated before him whichever way

he turned his gaze. It was as though he had looked on the sun, and its

image danced before his eyes where-ever he looked.

From that day forward Johannes found his way to the pond every fine

morning. He went early, as soon as he was roused by the squabbling of

the sparrows in the ivy round his window, and by the twitter and wheeze

of the starlings as they fluttered on the roof and wheeled in the early

sunshine. Then he flew off through the dewy grass, to wait close by the

house, behind a lilac-bush, till he heard the glass door open and saw

the light figure come out.

Away they went, wandering through the wood and over the sand-hills which

skirted it. They talked of all they saw, the trees, and the plants and

the downs. Johannes had a strange bewildered feeling as he walked by her

side; sometimes he felt so light that he fancied he could fly through

the air. But that never happened. He told her all the stories of the

flowers and animals that he had heard from Windekind. But he had

forgotten who had told them to him, and Windekind did not now stand

before him, only Robinetta. He was happy when she smiled at Mm and he

saw her friendship for him in her eyes; and he would talk to her as of

old he had talked to his little dog, telling her everything that came

into his head, without reserve or timidity. During the hours when he

could not see her he thought of her; and in everything he did he asked

himself whether Robinetta would think it right or nice. She herself

seemed no less pleased to see him; she smiled and ran quicker to meet

him. She told him indeed that there was no one she was so glad to walk

with as with him.

'But, Johannes,' said she one day, 'how do you know all these things?

How do you know what the cockchafers think about, what the thrushes

sing, what the inside of the rabbit-holes is like, and how things look

at the bottom of the water?'

'I have been told,' answered Johannes, 'and I have myself been inside a

rabbit-burrow, and down to the bottom of the water.'

Robinetta knit her pretty eyebrows and looked at him half mockingly.

But he looked as if he were speaking the truth. They were sitting under

lilac-trees covered with large bunches of purple blossoms. In front of

them was the pond with its reeds and duck-weed. They saw the black

water-snails gliding below the surface, and red spiders busily swinging

up and down. It was swarming with life and movement. Johannes, lost in

remembrance, gazed down into the depths and said--

'I went down there once. I slipped down a reed to the very bottom. It is

covered all over with dead leaves which fall so lightly and softly. It

is always twilight there--green twilight, because the light comes

through the green duck-weed. And over my head I saw the long white

rootlets of the duck-weed hanging down. Newts came and swam round me;

they are very inquisitive. It is strange to see such great creatures

swimming overhead; and I could not see far before me, it was too dark,

and all green. In that darkness, the creatures appeared like black

shades. Water-snails with their swimming-foot and flat shells, and

sometimes a little fish. I went a long way, for hours, I believe, and in

the middle was a great forest of water-plants, where snails were

creeping and water-spiders wove their glistening nets. Sticklebacks shot

in and out, and sometimes paused to stare at me, with open mouth and

quivering fins--they were so much astonished. I made friends there with

an eel, whose tail I unfortunately trod on. He told me the history of

his travels; he had been as far as the sea, he said. For this, he had

been chosen king of the pool, for no one else had ever been so far. He

always lay sleeping in the mud, except when he got something to eat

which the others brought him. He ate a terrible quantity. That was

because he was king; they like to have a very fat king; it looks grand.

Oh! it was lovely down in that pool.'

'They why do you not go down there again now?'

'Now?' repeated Johannes, looking at her with wide, bewildered eyes.

'Now? I can never go again now. I should be drowned. But I do not care.

I had rather stay here, by the lilac-bush, with you.'

Robinetta shook her yellow head, much puzzled, and stroked Johannes's

hair. Then she looked at her bird, which seemed to be finding all sorts

of delicious morsels by the edge of the pond. It glanced up at that

moment, and watched the pair for a moment with its bright little eyes.

'Do you understand anything of all this, Dicky-bird?'

The Robin looked very knowing and went on hunting and pecking.

'Tell me something more, Johannes, of the things you have seen.'

This Johannes was very glad to do, and Robinetta listened with attentive

belief in all he said.

'But where did this all happen? Why cannot you go now with me?

Everywhere--all about? I should like it so much.'

Johannes did his best to remember, but a sunlit mist covered the dim

landscape where he had once wandered. He could not quite make out how it

was that his former happiness had deserted him.

'I do not know exactly--you must not ask about that. A foolish little

being spoiled it all. But it is all right now--better even than before.'

The scent of the lilac poured down on them from the bushes, and the

humming of the insects on the pool, and the peaceful sunshine filled

them with pleasant drowsiness, till a bell rang at the great house with

a swinging clang, and Robinetta flew off.

When Johannes went into his little room that evening, as he looked at

the moon-shadows of the ivy leaves which stole across the brick floor,

he fancied he heard a tap at the window. He thought it was an ivy leaf

shaken by the wind. But it was such a distinct knocking, three taps each

time, that Johannes softly opened the window and cautiously peeped out.

The ivy against the wall glistened in the blue gleam--the dark world

below was full of mystery; there were hollows and caves, where the moon

lighted up small blue sparks, which made the darkness behind seem deeper

still. After staring for a long time into the marvels of the

shadow-world, Johannes discerned the form of a tiny mannikin, close to

the window, screened by a large ivy leaf. He at once recognised Wistik

by his large wondering eyes and uplifted eyebrows. The moon had set a

spark of light on the tip of Wistik's long nose.

'Have you forgotten me, Johannes? Why do you never think of me? It is

the right time of year. Have you asked Robin Redbreast to show you the

way?'

'Oh, Wistik, why should I ask? I have all I can wish for. I have

Robinetta.'

'But that cannot last long. And you might be happier still--and

certainly Robinetta might. And is the little key to lie there? Only

think how splendid it would be if you two were to find the Book! Ask

Robin Redbreast about it, and I will help as far as I can.'

'I can ask about it at any rate,' said Johannes.

Wistik nodded, and nimbly scrambled down to the ground; and Johannes

looked at the deep shadows and the shining ivy leaves for a long time

before he went to bed.

Next day he asked the Redbreast whether he knew the way to the golden

chest. Robinetta listened in surprise. Johannes saw the Robin nod his

head and give a side-glance at Robinetta.

'Not here! not here!' piped the little bird.

'What are you asking, Johannes?' said Robinetta.

'Do you know anything about it, Robinetta? Do you know where it is to be

found? Are you not waiting for the little golden key?'

'No, no. Tell me, what is it?'

Johannes told her all he knew about the Book. 'And I have the key, and I

thought that you must have the little golden chest. Is it not so,

Dicky-bird?'

But the bird pretended not to hear, and flew about among the young

pale-green birch boughs. They were sitting under a sand-hill, on which

little birches and broom shrubs grew. A grassy path ran up the slope,

and they sat at the edge of it, on the thick, dark, green moss. They

could see over the tops of the low shrubs, a green sea of leaves with

waves in light and shade.

'I believe,' said Robinetta, after thinking for some time, 'that I can

find what you want before you do. But what do you mean about the little

key? How did you come by it?'

'Ah!--how did I?--How was that?' muttered Johannes to himself, staring

across the green landscape into the distance.

Suddenly, as though they had come into being under the sunny blue sky, a

pair of white butterflies met his sight. They flitted and wheeled, and

shone in the sunshine with purposeless giddy flutterings; but they came

close to him.

'Windekind! Windekind!' The name came back to Johannes, and he spoke it

in a whisper.

'What is Windekind?' asked Robinetta. The Redbreast flew chirping up,

and the daisies in the grass at their feet seemed all at once to be

staring at Johannes in alarm with their round white eyes.

'Did he give you the little key?' the girl went on.

Johannes nodded; still he said nothing, but she wanted to know more

about it.

'Who was it? Did he tell you all these things? Where is he?'

'He is gone.--Now it is Robinetta--no one but Robinetta--only

Robinetta.'

He took her arm and laid his head against it.

'Silly boy!' she said, laughing, 'I will make you find the Book; I know

where it is.'

'But then I must go to fetch the key, and it is a long way off.'

'No, no, you need not. I can find it without the key.--To-morrow, I

promise you, to-morrow.'

And as they walked homewards, the butterflies flitted in front of them.

That night, Johannes dreamed of his father, of Robinetta, and of many

others. They were all good friends; they stood round him and looked at

him kindly and trustfully. But on a sudden, their faces were changed,

they looked coldly and laughed at him. He gazed about him in terror--on

all sides there were none but angry, unfriendly faces. He felt a

nameless misery, and awoke with a cry.