"Would you not like to make acquaintance with me and my Museum?" continued the speaker. "It is an excellent collection--sure to please you. But what have you in your hand? Not a mirror, is it? Fie! You must throw it away. I have no patience with such mirrors. I abhor them! They foster only conceit." The soft hand essayed to take away the mirror, but Johannes held it fast, and said firmly: "I will keep the mirror." He had scarcely said this when there flitted across that smiling, honest-looking face a shade of indescribable malice. It was very brief, but plain enough to cause Johannes a shudder, and to convince him that truly the Evil One stood before him. But instantly the face became again most frank and winning, and he heard: "Very well, then, as you please. We will begin by making the acquaintance of my subjects--all of them friends, comrades, or relatives." Just then Johannes heard again the well-remembered whispering and giggling which he had heard while watching the little hands. On all sides, amid much rustling and shuffling, he heard breathing, coughing, and sniffling--all sorts of queer human sounds, as if the place was thronged with people. But still he could see nothing. "You fancied I was very different, did you not, Johannes? That I had horns and a tail? That idea is out of date. No one believes it now. Thank God we are forever above that foolish separation of good and evil. That is untenable Dualism. My kingdom is as good as the other." "What is your name?" asked Johannes. "They call me King Waan.[1] Yes, indeed! I am a king, if I do appear so humble. Besides, external pomp is out of fashion. I am a constitutional, bourgeois, democratic king. Here, Bangeling![2] Come here! This is my most trusty helper--my right hand, in fact." Johannes shuddered at the sight of Bangeling--a shrinking, stooping, pale, and loathsome youngster. His eyes were red-rimmed, and glanced shiftingly right and left--never straight in front. His lean knees knocked against each other, and every moment his rag-covered body twitched with terror, and he cried: "Oh, Heaven! Oh, God! Now you will catch it! It is too late! Too la-a-ate!" To hear and see this repeatedly, without becoming frightened oneself, was not easy; but Johannes pressed his flower close to his breast and cried: "Wistik!" "Ay, ay!" he heard his good little friend shout. But the voice sounded from above, and far away. And suddenly Johannes had a very distinct sensation of falling, fast as lightning, down fathomless depths, although everything around him remained the same. "Are we falling down below?" he asked. King Waan gave Johannes a falsely-sweet smile. "One should not ask such impolite questions when making a visit," said he.