"One must not admire oneself--I have always said that," replied Wistik, "but it is very true that I am good, and do not deserve all those mean things said of me. And what is the truth may be acknowledged, even if it be called boasting. Neither bragging nor decrying, but the truth--that is my idea." Thereupon the little fellow nodded proudly, and set his cap on more firmly. They were sitting on a rocky coast. To the left the sun was shining brightly upon a steep wall of rose-red rocks. To the right was a gentle upward slope, where trees were growing, with delicate silver-grey foliage. In front of them lay the wide waters of the sea--almost motionless, but slightly stirring with the fresh wind, and sparkling in the light. There was nothing to be seen save red rocks, blue sky, and water. The blue, crystal-clear water lapped and gurgled and splashed about the hollows and chinks in the stone at their feet, and then disappeared in the clefts and caves, where the sea-weed and the coral were. How bright it was! How fresh and spacious! "I never see Windekind, now," said Johannes. "It is truly sad, for Father Pan's kingdom was most beautiful. But I am resigned, and I believe you when you say that still more beautiful things are to be found. Did I not once think the dunes the most beautiful of all, and fear I never should feel at home anywhere else? But now this strange land seems to me even greater, and I feel at home here also. Where are we, dear Wistik?" "What difference does it make?" said Wistik, who never willingly admitted he did not know a thing. "It does not matter," replied Johannes. "The main thing is that I know that I am I--Johannes, and that I see things good and clear; that yesterday I was at that office, and that I sought for Markus at the foundry. And I know too that I might now be seen lying asleep. But yet I am not dreaming, for I am wide awake--quite wide awake, and I remember everything." "Exactly," agreed Wistik. "Do you recollect what Markus said about remembering?" He paused a moment, and then went on in a tone that grew softer and more solemn. "Remembrance, Johannes, is truly a holy thing; for it makes the past--_present_. Now the future to it ... and then we should be...." "Where, Wistik?" "In that still autumn day, where the gold on the tree-tops never fades, and a branch never breaks. Do you remember?" asked Wistik, hardly above a whisper. Johannes nodded, in silence. After a while he said: "It is splendid, Wistik, that I still remember, even in the night, and stay awake and knowing things, even although my body is asleep in bed. I will not be dead and lie down like a log, forgetting everything, as some do in sleep. Neither will I dream all sorts of nonsense, as if every night I grew foolish. That is shameful. I will not do so." "Right, Johannes! No one wishes to be dead, and no one wishes to be foolish. And when human beings sleep they are dead, and when they dream they are foolish. None of that for me!"