'My dear boy,' said the doctor, 'you seem still too tender-hearted to begin. To be sure--the first time it is horrible to look on. I myself, for some time, was most averse to it, and avoided it as far as possible. But it is indispensable; and you must remember we are men and not brutes, and the advancement of mankind and of science is of more importance than a few rabbits.' 'Do you hear?' said Pluizer,--'science and mankind.' 'The man of science,' the doctor went on, 'stands far above all other men. But he must make all the smaller feelings which are common to the vulgar give way to the one grand idea of science. Will you be such a man? Is that your vocation, my boy?' Johannes hesitated; he did not know justly what a vocation might be--any more than the cockchafer. 'I want to find the book of which Wistik spoke,' said he. The doctor looked surprised and asked, 'Wistik?' Pluizer hastened to reply. 'He will, doctor; I know he really will. He desires to seek the highest wisdom and to understand the true nature of tilings.' Johannes nodded, 'Yes!' So far as he understood the matter, that was what he meant. 'Very well; but then you must be strong, Johannes, and not timid and soft-hearted. Then I can help you. But remember: all or nothing.' And with trembling fingers Johannes helped to tighten the relaxed cords round the rabbit's little paws. 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.'