their work and asked what they are doing, they look up with great importance, shake their heads and mutter, 'Wistik, Wistik!' Yes, it is all the fault of that little foolish Wood-Sprite. Have nothing to say to him, Johannes.' But Johannes stared before him at the swaying, creaking trees. The smooth brow above his clear childish eyes puckered into furrows. He had never before looked so grave. 'And yet--you yourself said--that there is such a Book! And oh! I am quite sure that in it there is all about the Great Light, whose name you will not tell me.' 'Poor, poor little Johannes!' said Windekind, and his voice rose above the dizzy clamour of the storm like a peaceful hymn, sounding very far away. 'Love me, only love me with all your might. In me, you will find even more than you wish. You shall understand that which you cannot conceive of, and be, yourself, what you desire to know. Earth and heaven shall be familiar to you, the stars shall be your neighbours, infinitude shall be your dwelling-place. Love me! only love me! Cling to me as the hop-bine to the tree, be true to me as the lake is to its bed--in me alone shall you find rest, Johannes.' Windekind ceased speaking, but the choral psalm still went on. It seemed to float at an immense distance, in solemn rhythm, through the raging and sighing of the wind--as tranquil as the moonlight shining between the driving clouds. Windekind opened his arms and Johannes fell asleep on his breast, under the shelter of the blue cloak. But in the night he awoke. Peace had suddenly and imperceptibly fallen on the world; the moon was below the horizon; the leaves hung limp and motionless; the forest was full of silence and darkness. And questions came back on Johannes' mind, in swift spectral succession, dislodging all his newly-born confidence. Why were men thus made? Why must he come away from them and lose their love? Why must the winter come? Why must the leaves fall and the flowers die? Why--why? Down in the thicket the blue lights were dancing again. They came and went. Johannes gazed at them with eager attention. He saw the larger, brighter light shining on the dark tree-trunk. Windekind was sleeping soundly and peacefully. 'Just one more question!' thought Johannes, creeping out from under the blue mantle. * * * * * 'So, here you are again!' cried Wistik, with a friendly nod, 'I am very pleased to see you. And where is your friend?' 'Out yonder. But I wanted to ask you one more question--alone. Will you answer it?' 'You have lived among men, I am sure. Has it anything to do with my secret?' 'Who will find the Book, Wistik?' 'Ay, ay! That's it, that's it. If I tell you, will you help me?' 'If I can--certainly.'