'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.'