"I shall try to live in my sleep, and to be wise in my dreams," said Johannes. "But it is hard, and time flies so fast!" He gazed at his hands, his limbs, and his whole body. He had on his handsomest suit. In amazement, he asked: "What body is this I have on, Wistik? And how silly to wear clothes. What clothes are these?" "Do you not see? They are your own clothes." So it was. Johannes recalled them precisely. And he held in his hand one of Marjon's blue forget-me-nots. "I do not understand it, Wistik! That I have a dream-life--that I travel with you in the night, that I do understand. But how did my clothes get here? Do my clothes dream, too?" "Why not?" asked Wistik. Astonished, Johannes continued to meditate. The water swirled and splashed all about the hollows in the rocks. The exquisite warbling of a yellow-finch rang sweet and plaintive from between the clefts. "But if everything can dream, then everything must be alive--my trousers too, and my shoes." "Why not?" said Wistik again. "Just prove to me that they are not." The way to do that was not clear to Johannes. "Or perhaps," he resumed, "perhaps I make everything--rocks, sea, light, and clothing. One or the other; _I_ dream it and make it, or it dreams everything itself and makes itself." "It cannot be any other way," assented Wistik. "But then, I could make something else if I wished to." "I think so, too," said Wistik. "A violin? Could I make a violin, and then play on it?" "Just try it," said Wistik. Behold! There was the violin--all ready for him. Johannes took it, and passed the bow over the strings as if he had handled it all his life. The most glorious music came from it--as fine as any he had ever heard. "Oh, Wistik! Do you hear? Who would ever have thought that I could make such music!" "'Vraagal can do all that Vraagal wills,' said Pan." "Yes," said Johannes, musing an instant, and forgetting his violin, which forthwith vanished. "Pan also spoke of the real Devil, you remember. He said that I must ask you to show him to me." Wistik had drawn up his little knees and placed his arms about them, his long beard hanging down in front to his shins. Sitting thus, he threw a sidelong glance at Johannes, to see if he intended to do it. Then his entire little body began to tremble. "Shall we not take a little fly out over the ocean?" he asked. But Johannes was not to be diverted. "No, I want to see the real Devil." "Are you sure, Johannes?" "Yes," replied the latter. He felt himself a hero, now, after having defied the octopus. "Think well about it," said Wistik. "What does he look like?" "What do you think?" "I think," said Johannes, beginning to look stern and angry, "I think he looks like Marjon's sister." "Why?" asked Wistik.