"Come up nearer," said Wistik. "They know us." And it really seemed to Johannes as if the ghosts of the animals greeted them, sadly and solemnly; but only those of the animals known to him in his native land. And what most impressed him was that the largest and most beautiful were not those esteemed most highly by human beings. "Oh, look! Wistik, are those the butterfly-spirits? How big and handsome they are!" They were splendid creatures--large as a house--with radiant eyes, and their bodies and wings were clearly marked in brilliant colors. But the wings of all of them were drooping as though with weariness, and they looked at Johannes seriously, silently. "Are there plant-spirits, too, Wistik?" "Oh, yes, Johannes, but they are very large and vague and elusive. Look! There they come--floating along." And Wistik pointed out to him the hurrying, hazy figures that Johannes had first seen in front of the procession. "Now he is coming! Now he is coming! Oh! Oh! Oh!" wailed Wistik, taking off his cap and beginning to cry again. Surrounded by throngs of weeping nymphs who were singing a soft and sorrowful dirge--their arms intertwined about one anothers' shoulders--their faded wreaths and long hair dripping with the rain--came the great bier of rude boughs whereon lay Father Pan, hidden beneath ivy and poppies and violets. He was borne by young, brawny-muscled fauns, whose ruddy faces, bowed at their task, were distorted with suppressed sobs. In the rear was a throng of grave centaurs, shuffling mutely along, their heads upon their chests, now and then striking their trunks and flanks with their rough fists, making them sound like drums. Curled up, as if he intended to stay there, a little squirrel was lying on the hairy breast of Pan. A robin redbreast sat beside his ear, mournfully and patiently coaxing, coaxing incessantly, in the vague hope that he might still hear. But the broad, good-natured face with its kindly smile never stirred. When Johannes saw that, and recognized his good Father Pan, he burst into tears which he made no effort to restrain. "Now the monsters are coming," whispered Wistik. "The monsters of the primal world." Ugh! That was a spectacle to turn one into ice! Dragons, and horrid shapes bigger than ten elephants, with frightful horns and teeth, and armor of spikes; long, powerful necks, having upon them small heads with large, dull eyes and sharp teeth; and pale, grey-green and black, sometimes dark-red or emerald-green, spots on the deeply wrinkled, knotty or shiny skin. All these now went past with awkward jump or trailing body; most of the time mute, but sometimes making a gruff, quickly uttered, far-sounding howl. And then odd creatures like reddish bats, having hooked beaks and curved claws, flashed through the air with their black and yellow wings, chattering and clumsily floundering in their flight.