"Because I hate her! Because whatever I think beautiful she always spoils for me, and spoils it through the remembrance alone. She looks like Marjon, and she also looks like that dear friend about whom I am always thinking; and yet she is not the same--she is ugly and common. She kissed me once, and it has spoiled my life." "Wrong, Johannes! He does not look in the least like that," said Wistik. Suddenly, Johannes noticed that the bright light was growing dimmer, and that the great firm rocks began to quiver and shake as if seen through heated air, uneven glass, or flowing water. Then, all at once, he knew, without descrying it, through an inner feeling of nameless distress, that _It_ was sitting behind him. It! You know well, do you not, what it was? It--the same that sat by the pool when that poor young girl was drowned--It was sitting behind him, huge and deathly still. Sunlight, sea, and rocks--the whole beautiful land, grew hazy and vague. "He is here," whispered Wistik, "behind us. Bear up, Johannes! You yourself wanted it." "What shall I do?" asked Johannes, now very nervous and terrified. "Do not be afraid! For God's sake, do not be afraid! If you do you are lost." "Shall I cry to God, or to Jesus? Or cross myself?" "He cares not a bit for such things; he laughs at them; he knows all about them. He makes fun of prayers and the sign of the cross. The main thing is to keep on the alert, and not to be afraid. He will be very friendly, and show you all kinds of pretty and interesting sights, and he will try to make you sleepy and afraid. But you must not fear and must not forget. Above all, keep fast hold of Marjon's flower. And here ... look!" With his nervously trembling little fingers Wistik fumbled in the small satchel that always hung by a strap over his shoulder, and took from the jumbled lot of pebbles, scissors, lead-pencils, and dried plants, a little mirror on the frame of which his name was neatly engraved. Then in a voice shaken and nearly speechless with emotion, he said: "Hold that good and fast! It is your salvation. Go now, dear boy. Go!" And the good little fellow wept. "Are you not going with me?" asked Johannes, in agitation. "I am his greatest enemy," said Wistik; "he cannot endure the sight of me. But I will stay in the neighborhood. Call me once in a while, and I will answer you. Then you will know that you are safe...." "Welcome, Johannes!" said a gentle, friendly voice, and a soft warm hand clasped his own. "You are not embarrassed in my presence, I hope." Could that be the Evil One? A nice, polite person like that, with such taking manners, and such a caressing voice? Johannes looked round, in amazement, to the place where _It_ was. He could not distinguish clearly, nor look straight at the speaker, but he seemed to be an ordinary, modish gentleman, with a frank, smiling face--well dressed in a brown suit and a straw hat.