XI

'Now we shall see,' said Pluizer, 'whether I cannot show you just as

pretty things as Windekind did.'

And when they had taken leave of the doctor, promising to return soon,

he led Johannes into every nook and corner of the great town; he showed

him how the Monster lived, how he breathed and took in food, how he

digested within and expanded without. But what he liked best were the

gloomy back slums, where men sat closely packed, where everything was

grey and grizzly, and the air black and heavy. He took him into one of

the great buildings from which the smoke rose which Johannes had seen

the first day. The place was filled with deafening noise--thumping,

rattling, hammering and droning--great wheels were turning and long

belts sliding endlessly onward; the walls and floors were black, the

windows broken and murky. The towering chimneys rose high above the

dingy structure, and poured forth thick wreaths of smoke. Amid the

turmoil of wheels and axles, Johannes saw numbers of men with pale faces

and blackened hands and clothes, working busily without a word.

'Who are they?' he asked.

'Wheels, wheels too,' said Pluizer with a laugh, 'or men, if you choose

to call them so. And what you see them doing, they do from morning to

night. Even so, they can be men--after their own fashion, of course.'

Then they passed along filthy streets, where the strip of heavenly blue

seemed no more than a finger's breadth wide, and was still more shut out

by clothes hung out to air. These alleys were swarming with people, who

jostled each other, shouted, laughed and sometimes even sang. In the

houses here, the rooms were so small, so dark and foul, that Johannes

could scarcely breathe. He saw squalid children crawling about on the

bare floor, and young girls with tangled hair crooning songs to pale,

hungry babies. He heard quarrelling and scolding, and every face he

looked upon was weary, or stupid and indifferent.

It filled Johannes with a strange sudden pang. It had nothing in common

with any former pain, and he felt ashamed of it.

'Pluizer,' said he, 'have men always lived here in such grief and

misery? And when I--' he dared not finish the question.

'To be sure, and a happy thing too. They are not in such grief and

misery; they are used to it and know no better. They are mere animals,

ignorant and indifferent. Look at those two women sitting in front of

their door; they look out on the dirty street as contentedly as you used

to gaze at the sand-hills. You need not worry yourself about the lot of

man. You might as well cry over the lot of the moles who never see

daylight.'

And Johannes did not know what to answer, nor what, then, he ought to

weep over. And ever through the noisy throng and bustle, he still saw

the pale, hollow-eyed figure marching on with noiseless steps.

'A good man, don't you think?' said Pluizer. 'He takes them away from

this at any rate. But even here men are afraid of him.'

When night had fallen and hundreds of lights flared in the wind, casting

long, straggling reflections in the black water, they made their way

down the quiet streets. The tall old houses seemed tired out, and asleep

as they leaned against each other. Most of them had their eyes shut; but

here and there a window still showed a pale gleam of yellow light.

Pluizer told Johannes many a long tale of those who dwelt within, of the

sufferings which were endured there, and the struggle waged between

misery and the love of life. He spared him nothing: he sought out the

gloomiest, the lowest, the most dreadful facts, and grinned with delight

as Johannes turned pale and speechless at his horrible tales.

'Pluizer,' Johannes suddenly asked, 'do you know anything about the

Great Light?' He thought the question might deliver him from the

darkness which grew thicker and more oppressive about him.

'All nonsense!' said Pluizer. 'Windekind's nonsense! Mere visions and

dreams! Men alone exist--and I myself. Do you suppose that a God, or

anything at all like one, could take pleasure in governing such a muddle

as prevails on this earth? And such a Great Light would not shine here

in the dark.'

'But the stars, what about the stars?' asked Johannes as if he expected

that the visible Splendour would raise up the squalor before him.

'The stars! Do you know of what you are talking, boy? There are no

lights up there like the lamps you see about you here below. The stars

are nothing but worlds, a great deal larger than this world with its

thousand cities, and we move among them like a speck of dust; and there

is no "above" or "below," but worlds all round, and on every side more

worlds, and no end of them anywhere.'

'No, no!' cried Johannes in horror. 'Do not say so, do not say so! I can

see the lights against a great dark background overhead.'

'Very true. You cannot see anything but lights. If you stared up at the

sky all your life long you would still see nothing but lights against a

dark background overhead. But, you know, you must know, that there is no

above nor beneath. Those are worlds, amid which this clod of earth, with

its wretched, struggling mass of humanity, is as nothing--and will

vanish into nothing. Do not ever speak of "the stars" in that way, as

though there were but a few dozen of them. It is foolishness.'

Johannes said no more. The immensity which ought to have elevated the

squalor had crushed it.

'Come along,' said Pluizer. 'Now we will go to see something amusing.'

At intervals bursts of delightful, soft music were wafted to their ears.

On a dark slope in front of them stood a large building with lamps

blazing in its numerous long windows. A row of carriages was in waiting

outside; the pawing of the horses rang hollow through the silent night,

and as they shook their heads, sparks of light shone on the silver

fittings of their harness, and on the varnish of the coaches.

Inside, everything was a blaze of light. Johannes was half blinded as he

gazed, by the hundreds of candles, the bright colours, the glitter of

mirrors and flowers. Gay figures flitted across the windows, bowing to

each other, with laughter and gestures. Beyond, at the other side of the

room, richly dressed persons were moving about with slow dignity or

spinning with swift, swaying motion. A confused sound of laughter and

merry voices, of shuffling feet and rustling dresses came through the

front door, mingling with the waves of that soft bewitching music which

Johannes had already heard from afar. In the street, close to the

windows, stood a few dark figures, their faces only strangely lighted up

by the illumination within, at which they stared with avidity.

'That is pretty! That is splendid!' cried Johannes, delighted at the

sight of so much light and colour, and so many flowers. 'What is going

on in there? May we go in?'

'Indeed! So you really think that pretty? Or do you not prefer a

rabbit-hole? Look at the people as they laugh, and bow, and glitter. See

how stately and polite the men are; and how gay and fine the ladies! And

how solemnly they dance, as if it were the most important thing on

earth.'

Johannes recalled the ball in the rabbit-burrow, and he saw a great deal

which reminded him of it. But here, everything was much grander and more

brilliant. The young ladies in their beautiful array seemed to him as

lovely as elves, as they raised their long, bare arms, and bent their

heads on one side in the dance. The servants moved about incessantly,

offering elegant refreshments with respectful bows.

'How splendid! How splendid!' cried Johannes.

'Very pretty, is it not?' said Pluizer. 'But now you must learn to look

a little further than the end of your nose. You see nothing there but

happy smiling faces? Well, the greater part of all that mirth is

falsehood and affectation. The friendly old ladies in the corner sit

there like anglers round a pond; the young girls are the bait, the men

are the fish. And affectionately as they gossip together, they envy and

grudge each other every fish that bites. If either of the young ladies

feels some pleasure, it is because she has a prettier dress than the

rest, or secures more partners; the pleasure of the men chiefly consists

in the bare shoulders and arms of the ladies. Behind all these bright

eyes and pleasant smiles there lurks something quite different. Even the

thoughts of the respectful servants are very far from respectful. If

suddenly every one should give utterance to his real thoughts the party

would soon be at an end.'

And when Pluizer pointed it ail out to him, Johannes could plainly see

the insincerity of the faces and manners of the company, and the vanity,

envy, and weariness which showed through the smiling mask, or were

suddenly revealed as though it had just been taken off.

'Well,' said Pluizer, 'they must do things in their own way. Human

creatures must have some amusement, and they know no other way.'

Johannes was aware of some one standing just behind him. He looked

round; it was the well-known tall figure. The pale face was strangely

lighted up by the glare, so that the eyes showed as large dark caverns.

He was muttering softly to himself and pointed with one finger into the

splendid ball-room.

'Look,' said Pluizer, 'he is seeking out some one.'

Johannes looked where the finger pointed, and he saw how the old lady

who was speaking closed her eyes and put her hand to her head; and how a

fair young girl paused in her slow walk, and stared before her with a

slight shiver.

'How soon?' Pluizer asked of Death.

'That is my affair,' was the answer.

'I should like to show Johannes this same company once more,' said

Pluizer with a grin and a wink, 'can I do it?'

'This evening?' asked Death.

'Why not?' said Pluizer. 'There, time and the hour are no more. What now

is has always been, and what shall be, is now already.'

'I cannot go with you,' said Death. 'I have too much to do. But speak

the name we both know and you can find the way without me.'

Then they went a little way along the deserted streets where the gas was

flaring in the night wind, and the dark cold water plashed against the

sides of the canals. The soft music grew fainter and fainter, and at

last died away in the hush which lay over the town.

Presently, from high above them, a loud and festal song rang out with a

deep, echoing, metallic ring. It came down suddenly from the tall church

tower on the sleeping city, and into little Johannes' sad and gloomy

soul. He looked up much startled. The chime rang on with clear, steady

tones, rising joyfully in the air, and boldly scaring the death-like

silence. The glad strain struck him as strange--a festal song in the

midst of noiseless sleep and blackest woe.

'That is the clock,' said Pluizer, 'it is always cheerful, year in, year

out. It sings the same song every hour, with the same vigour and

vivacity; and it sounds more gleeful by night than even by day, as if

the clock rejoiced that it has no need of sleep, that it can sing at all

times with equal contentment, while thousands, just below, are weeping

and suffering. But it sounds most gladly when some one is just dead.'

Again the jubilant peal rang out.

'One day, Johannes,' Pluizer went on,' a dim light will be burning in a

quiet room, behind just such a window as that yonder; a melancholy

light, flickering pensively, and making the shadows dance on the wall.

There will be no sound in that room but now and then a low, suppressed

sob. A bed will be standing there, with white curtains, and long shadows

in their folds. In the bed something will be lying--white and still.

That will have been little Johannes. And then, how loud and joyful will

that chime sound, breaking into the room, and singing out the first hour

after his death!'

Twelve was striking, booming through the air with long pauses between

the strokes. At the last stroke, Johannes, all at once, had a strange

feeling as though he were dreaming; he was no longer walking, but

floating along a little way above the ground, holding Pluizer's hand.

The houses and lamps sped past him in swift flight. And now the houses

stood less close together. They formed separate rows, with dark,

mysterious gaps between them, where the gas lamps lighted up trenches,

puddles, scaffoldings and woodwork. At last they reached a great gate,

with heavy pillars and a tall railing. In a winking, they had floated

over it and come down again on some soft grass by a high heap of sand.

Johannes fancied he must be in a garden, for he heard the rustling of

trees hard by.

'Now pay attention, and then confess whether I cannot do greater things

than Windekind.'

Then Pluizer shouted aloud a short and awful name which made Johannes

quake. The darkness on all sides echoed the sound, and the wind bore it

up in widening circles till it died away in the upper air.

And Johannes saw the grass blades growing so tall that they were above

his head, and a little pebble which but just now was under his feet,

seemed to be close to his face. Pluizer, by his side, and no bigger than

he was, picked up the stone with both hands and threw it away with all

his might. A confused noise of thin, shrill voices rose up from the spot

he had cleared.

'Hey day! who is doing that? What is the meaning of it? Lout!' they

could hear said.

Johannes saw black objects running in great confusion. He recognised the

quick, nimble ground-beetle, the shining, brown ear-wig with his fine

nippers, the millipede with its round back and thousand tiny feet, in

the midst of them a long earthworm shrank back as quick as lightning

into its burrow! Pluizer made his way through the angry swarm of

creatures to the worm's hole.

'Hey there! you long, naked crawler! come up and show yourself once more

with your sharp red nose!' he cried.

'What do you want?' asked the worm from below.

'You must come out, because I want to go in; do you hear, you

bare-skinned sand-eater!'

The worm cautiously put his pointed head out of the hole, felt all round

it two or three times, and then slowly dragged his naked ringed body up

to the surface. Pluizer looked round at the other creatures who had

crowded curiously about them.

'One of you must go first with a light--no, Master Beetle, you are too

stout, and you with your thousand feet would make me giddy. Hey, you

ear-wig! I like your looks. Come with me and carry a light in your

nippers. You, beetle, must look about for a will-o'-the-wisp, or fetch a

chip of rotten wood.'

The creatures were scared by his commanding tones and obeyed him.

Then they went down into the worm's burrow; the ear-wig first, with the

shining wood, then Pluizer, and then Johannes. It was a narrow passage

and very dark down there. Johannes saw the grains of sand glittering in

the dim blue gleam. They looked like large stones, half transparent and

built up into a smooth firm wall by the worm's body. The worm himself

followed, full of curiosity. Johannes saw the pointed head come close up

behind him, and then stop till the long body had been dragged after it.

Down they went, without speaking, far and deep. When the path was too

steep for Johannes, Pluizer helped him. They seemed never to be coming

to an end; still fresh galleries of sand, and still the ear-wig crept

on, turning and bending with the sinuosities of the passage. At last

this grew broader, and the walls opened out. The grains of sand were

black and wet, forming a vault overhead, down which driblets of water

made shining streaks, while the roots of trees came through in coils

like petrified snakes.

And suddenly there rose before Johannes's eyes an upright wall, black

and high, cutting off all space beyond. The ear-wig turned round.

'Here we are. The next question is how to get any further. The worm

ought to know; he is at home here.'

'Come on; show us the way,' said Pluizer.

The worm slowly dragged his jointed body up to the black wall and felt

it inquisitively. Johannes could see that it was of wood. Here and there

it had fallen into brownish powder. The worm bored his way into one such

place and the long, wriggling body vanished with three pushes and

pauses.

'Now for you,' said Pluizer, pushing Johannes into the little round

opening. For a moment he thought he should be suffocated in the soft

damp stuff, but he soon felt his head free, and with some trouble worked

his way completely through. A large room seemed to lie open before him;

the floor was hard and moist, the air thick and intolerably oppressive.

Johannes could scarcely breathe, and stood waiting in mortal terror.

He heard Pluizer's voice, which sounded hollow, as in some vast cellar.

'Here, Johannes, follow me.'

He felt the ground before him rise to a hill--and he climbed it,

clutching Pluizer's hand in the darkness. He trod, as it were, on a

carpet which yielded under his foot. He trampled over hollows and

ridges, following Pluizer who led him on to a level spot where he held

on by some long stems which bent in his hand like reed-grass.

'Here we can stand very comfortably. Bring a light,' said Pluizer.

The dim light came on from a distance, up and down with its bearer. The

nearer it approached, and the more its pale gleam spread in the place

they were in, the more terrible became Johannes's anguish of mind. The

eminence on which he stood was long and white; the support he clung to

was brown, and lay about in glistening waves and curls.

He recognised the features of a human being, and the icy level on which

he stood was the forehead. Before him lay the sunken eyes, two deep,

dark hollows, and the blue gleam fell on the pinched nose and ashy lips

which were parted in the hideous, rigid smile of death.

Pluizer laughed sharply, but the sound seemed smothered by the damp,

wooden walls.

'Is not this a surprise, Johannes?'

The worm crept up along the plaits of the shroud: he glided over the

chin and the stiffened lips and into the mouth.

'This was the beauty of the ball, whom you thought lovelier even than an

elf. Then her hair and dress shed sweet fragrance; then her eyes

sparkled and her lips smiled. Now,--look at her!'

With all his horror there was doubt in Johannes's eyes. So soon? The

splendour was but now--and already----?

'Do you not believe me?' grinned Pluizer. 'Half a century lies between

now and then. Time and the hour are no more. What has been shall always

be, and what shall be has ever been. You could not conceive of it, but

you must believe it. Everything here is the truth. All I tell you is

true! True!--and Windekind could not say that.'

With a nod and a grimace he leaped round the dead face, and played the

most horrible antics. He sat on the eyebrows and raised the eyelids by

the long lashes. The eye, which Johannes had seen bright with gladness,

stared dull and white in the pale light.

'Now onwards!' cried Pluizer. 'There is more yet to be seen.'

The worm came creeping up from a corner of the mouth, and the dreadful

march began once more. Not back again, but along new paths, no less long

and gloomy.

'This is much older,' said the earthworm as he made his way through

another black wall. 'This has been here a very long time.'

It was less dreadful here than before. Johannes saw nothing but a

confused mass, out of which brown bones projected. Hundreds of insects

were silently busy here. The light startled and alarmed them.

'Where do you come from? Who brings a light here? We want no light.' And

they hastily vanished into the folds and crevices. But they recognised a

fellow-creature.

'Have you been in the next one?' asked the worms. 'The wood is still

hard.'

The first worm denied it. 'He wants to keep the find to himself,' said

Pluizer to Johannes in a low voice.

Then they went forward again; Pluizer explained everything, and pointed

out persons whom Johannes had known. They came to an ugly face with

prominent, staring eyes, and thick dark lips and cheeks.

'This was a very fine gentleman,' said he in high glee. 'You should have

seen him--so rich, so fashionable, so arrogant. He is as much puffed up

as ever!'

And so they went on. There were lean and haggard faces with white hair

that shone blue in the feeble light, and little children with large

heads and old-looking, anxious features.

'These, you see, died first and grew old afterwards,' said Pluizer.

They came to a man with a flowing beard and parted lips, showing

glistening white teeth. There was a round black hole in the middle of

his forehead.

'This one lent Death a helping hand. Why had he not a little patience?

He would have come here in the end.'

Through passage after passage, one after another, they passed, no end of

them--straight-laid figures, with rigid, grinning faces, and motionless

hands laid one over the other.

'Now I can go no further,' said the ear-wig. 'I do not know my way

beyond this.'

'Let us turn back,' said the worm.

'One more, one more!' cried Pluizer.

So on they went.

'Everything you see here, actually exists,' said Pluizer, as they made

their way forward. 'It is all real. One thing only is not real, and that

is yourself, Johannes. You are not here; you cannot come here.'

And he laughed maliciously as he saw Johannes's terrified and bewildered

face at these words.

'This is the last, positively the last.'

'The way stops here. I am going no further,' said the ear-wig crossly.

'I will go further,' said Pluizer; and where the path ended he began

grubbing the earth with both hands.

'Help me, Johannes.'

And Johannes, submissive with wretchedness, obeyed, scratching away the

fine damp soil. Silent and breathless they worked away till they came to

the black wood.

The worm had drawn back his ringed head and disappeared. The ear-wig

dropped the light and turned away.

'It is impossible to get in, the wood is new,' said he as he withdrew.

'I will do it!' said Pluizer, and with his clawed fingers he tore long

white splinters cracking out of the wood.

A fearful anguish came over Johannes. But he could not help himself;

there was no escape.

At last the dark thing was opened. Pluizer seized the light and hurried

in.

'Here, here!' he cried, running to the head.

But when Johannes came as far as the hands, which lay quietly folded

over the breast, he stopped. He gazed at the thin white fingers, dimly

lighted from above. On a sudden, he recognised them,--he knew the shape

and turn of the fingers, the look of the long nails, now blue and dull.

He recognised a brown spot on one of the forefingers. These were his own

hands.

'Here, this way!' Pluizer called from the head. 'Only look, do you know

him?'

Hapless Johannes tried to stand up and go towards the light which winked

at him; but he could not. The gleam died into total darkness and he fell

senseless.