"I have read much, but I do not believe I have ever read that book. It is not the Book of the Elves, nor the Book of the Goblins. Still, there must be such a book." "The Book of Human Beings, perhaps?" "That I do not know, but I should hardly think so, for the Book of Truth ought to bring great peace and happiness. It should state exactly why everything is as it is, so that no one could ask or wish for anything more. Now, I do not believe human beings have got so far as that." "Oh, no! no!" laughed Windekind. "Is there really such a book?" asked Johannes, eagerly. "Yes!" whispered the goblin. "I know it from old, old stories. And hush! I know too, where it is, and who can find it." "Oh, Wistik, Wistik!" "Then why have you not yet got it?" asked Windekind. "Have patience. It will happen all right. Some of the particulars I do not yet know, but I shall soon find it. I have worked for it and sought it all my life. For to him who finds it, life will be an endless autumnal day--blue sky above and blue haze about--but no falling leaves will rustle, no bough will break, and no drops will patter. The shadows will not waver, and the gold on the tree-tops will not fade. What now seems to us light will be as darkness, and what now seems to us happiness will be as sorrow, to him who has read that book. Yes, I know this about it, and sometime I shall find it." The goblin raised his eyebrows very high, and laid his finger on his lips. "Wistik, if you could only teach me...." began Johannes, but before he could end he felt a heavy gust of wind, and saw, exactly above him, a huge black object which shot past, swiftly and inaudibly. When he looked round again for Wistik, he caught just a glimpse of a little foot disappearing in a tree-trunk. Zip!--The goblin had dashed into his hole, head first--book and all. The candles burned more and more feebly, and suddenly went out. They were very queer little candles. "What was that?" asked Johannes, in a fright, clinging fast to Windekind in the darkness. "A night-owl," said Windekind. They were both silent for a while. Then Johannes asked: "Do you believe what Wistik said?" "Wistik is not so wise as he thinks he is. He will never find such a book. Neither will you." "But does it exist?" "That book exists the same as your shadow exists, Johannes. However hard you run, however carefully you may reach for it, you will never overtake nor grasp it; and, in the end, you will discover that it is yourself you chase. Do not be foolish--forget the goblin's chatter. I will tell you a hundred finer stories. Come with me! We will go to the edge of the woods, and see how our good Father lifts the fleecy, white dew-blankets from the sleeping meadow-lands. Come!"