'What do you suppose? An elf? Elves are never in love.' And Pluizer unexpectedly sat down on the ground at Johannes's feet with his leg crossed under him, staring at him with a villainous grin. Johannes was unutterably embarrassed and uncomfortable under his gaze, and wished he could escape or become invisible. But he could not even take his eyes off him. 'Only men fall in love, Johannes, d'ye hear! And so much the better, or there would be none left by this time. And you are in love like the best of them, although you are but a little fellow. Of whom are you thinking at this moment?' 'Of Robinetta,' whispered Johannes, hardly above his breath. 'Whom do you most long for?' 'Robinetta.' 'Without whom do you think you could not live?' Johannes's lips moved silently: 'Robinetta.' 'Well then, youngster,' grinned Pluizer, 'what made you fancy that you could be an elf? Elves do not love the daughters of men.' 'But it was Windekind,' Johannes stammered out in his bewilderment. But Pluizer flew into a terrible rage and his bony fingers gripped Johannes by the ears. 'What folly is this? Would you try to frighten me with that whippersnapper thing? He is a greater simpleton than Wistik--much greater. He knows nothing at all. And what is worse, he does not exist in any sense, and never has existed. I only exist, do you understand? And if you do not believe me, I will let you feel what I am.' And he shook the hapless Johannes by the ears. Johannes cried out-- 'But I have known him such a long time, and have travelled such a long way with him!' 'You dreamed it, I tell you. Where are the rose bush and the little key, hey? But you are not dreaming now. Do you feel that?' 'Oh!' cried Johannes, for Pluizer nipped him. It was by this time dark, and the bats flew close over their heads and piped shrilly. The air was black and heavy, not a leaf was stirring in the wood. 'May I go home?' asked Johannes,--'home to my father?' 'To your father! What to do there?' said Pluizer. 'A warm reception you will get from him after staying away so long.' 'I want to get home,' said Johannes, and he thought of the snug room with the bright lamp light where he would sit so often by his father's side, listening to the scratching of his pen. It was quiet there, and not lonely. 'Well then, you would have done better not to come away, and stayed so long for the sake of that senseless jackanapes who has not even any existence. Now it is too late, but it does not matter in the least; I will take care of you. And whether I do it or your father, comes to precisely the same in the end. Such a father--it is a mere matter of education. Did you choose your own father? Do you suppose that there is no one so good or so clever as he? I am just as good, and cleverer--much cleverer.' Johannes had no heart to answer; he shut his eyes and nodded feebly.