And now and then, on the other side, high up in the ashen sky, appeared the pale face of the moon--deathly pale, hopelessly sad, motionless and resigned--in the midst of the furious troop of clouds. Johannes looked at his friend in indescribable anguish. "Wistik, what is this? Where are we? What is happening?--_Wistik!_" But Wistik shook his head, lifted up his swollen eyes toward the sky, and, in mute anguish, clenched his fists. Above the roar of wind and sea could still be heard the deep-toned sound, like the report of cannon or the booming of bells. Johannes looked around. Behind him rose the mountains--black and menacing--their proud, heaven-high heads confronting the rushing swirl of clouds that were piled up, miles high, into a rounded black mass. At times it lightened vividly and then followed a frightful peal of thunder. And when one of the highest peaks was freed from its mantle of mists, Johannes saw that it was afire with a steady, orange-colored glow which grew ever fiercer and whiter. The tolling of bells came from every direction, as if thousands on thousands of cathedral bells were ringing in unison. Then Wistik and Johannes took their way inland, clambering over the jagged rocks, clinging to each other in the wild wind. The sea thundered still louder, and the wind whistled as if in utter frenzy--like an imprisoned maniac tugging at his bars. "It is no use," wailed Wistik. "It is no use. He is dead, dead, dead!" Then Johannes heard the winds speaking as he had formerly heard the flowers and animals talk. "He shall live!" shrieked the Wind; "I will not let him die!" And the Sea spoke: "Them that menace him shall I destroy--his enemies devour. The hills shall I grind to powder, and all animals o'erwhelm." Then spoke the Mountain: "It is too late. The time is fulfilled. He is dead." Now Johannes knew what it was the bells were sounding. They cried through all the earth, and the darkened heavens: "Pan is dead! Pan is dead!" And the pale Moon spoke softly and plaintively: "Alas! poor earth! Where now is thy beauty? Now shall we weep--weep--weep!" Finally, the Sun also spoke: "The Eternal changes not. A new day has come. Be resigned." And all at once it grew still--perfectly still. The wind went suddenly down. The air was so motionless that the iridescent foam-bubbles floated hither and thither as if uncertain where to alight. A silence, full of dread, oppressed the whole dreary land. The waste of waters only, could not so suddenly subside, and still pounded in heavy rollers upon the shore. But it also grew still and calm--so calm that the sun and the moon were reflected in it, as perfectly as in a mirror. The thunder was silenced about the volcano, and everything was waiting. But the bells pealed on, loud and clear: "Pan is dead! Pan is dead!"