Johannes could not sleep. He was full of anxiety, and in a state of high nervous tension. When the house grew still, and the lonely, mysterious night had come, came also fear and doubt and faint-heartedness. He doubted that he doubted, and feared the doubt of the doubt. He heard the howling of the wolf that lay in wait for the wandering sheep; he felt the slippery, slimy, crawling grasp of those terrible arms, that unnoticed, had fastened their suckers everywhere to his limbs; he saw the great yellow eyes of the octopus, with the narrow, slit-shaped pupil; and he felt the mouth searching and feeling about his body for his heart, that it might stab it with the sharp, parrot-like beak. With chattering teeth he lay wide awake between the sheets--shivering and shaking, while the perspiration poured from him. Then he heard a faint, creaking sound on the stairs, followed by a light footfall at the doorway. His door was opened, and a slim, dark form came cautiously up to the bed. He felt a soft, warm hand on his clammy forehead, and heard Marjon's voice whispering: "You must be faithful, Jo, and not let them make you afraid. The Father likes brave and loyal children." "Yes, Marjon," said Johannes; and the shivering ceased, while a gentle warmth stole over and through his entire body. He dropped asleep so soon that he did not notice when she left the room. X "Jump out!" cried Wistik, excitedly, swinging his little red cap. "Come on--jump!" Johannes saw no way of doing so. The window was high and quite too small. Perhaps by climbing still higher he might find a way out. A flight of stairs, and another garret. Still another narrow passage, and another stairway. Then he caught another glimpse of Wistik, astride a large eagle. "Come on, Johannes!" cried he. "You must dare to--then nothing can happen." Johannes was ready to venture, but he could not do it. The little window was again out of reach. Back again. Empty garrets, steep stairs--stairs without end. And there was the octopus! He knew it. Again and again he saw one of the long arms with its hundreds of suckers. Sometimes one of them lay stretched along the garret floor, so that he had to step over it. Sometimes one meandered over the stairs that Johannes was obliged to mount. The whole house was full of them. And out-of-doors the sun was shining, and the blue air was clear and bright. Wistik was circling around the house, seated on the great eagle--the very same eagle they had come across before, in Phrygia. Out-of-doors also rang the voice of Marjon. Hark! She was singing. She, too, was in the open air. She seemed to have made a little song, herself--words and melody--for Johannes had never before heard either of them. "Nightly there come to me, White as the snow, Wings that I know to be Strange, here below. "Up into ether blue, Pure and so high, Mounting on pinions true, Singing, I fly.