If they only could have done so! The numbing east winds soon began to blow again, and the poor, rash things were buried deep in the drifted snow. Weeks later came the violets, their sweet perfume floating through the shrubbery. And when the sun had shone long and warmly on the mossy ground, the fair primulas opened out by hundreds and by thousands. The shy violets, with their rich fragrance, were mysterious harbingers of coming magnificence, yet the cheerful primulas were gladness itself. The awakened earth had taken to herself the first sunbeams, and made of them a golden ornament. "Now," thought Johannes, "now he is surely coming!" In suspense he watched the buds on the branches, as they swelled slowly day by day, and freed themselves from the bark, till the first pale-green points appeared among the brown scales. Johannes stayed a long time looking at those little green leaves, and never saw them stir. But even if he only just turned around they seemed to have grown bigger. "They do not dare while I am watching them," he thought. The foliage had already begun to cast a shade, yet Windekind had not come. No dove had alighted near him--no little mouse had spoken to him. When he addressed the flowers they scarcely nodded, and made no reply whatever. "My penance is not over yet," he thought. Then one sunny spring morning he passed the pond and the house. The windows were all wide open. He wondered if any of the people had come yet. The wild cherry that stood by the pond was entirely covered with tender leaves. Every twig was furnished with little, delicate-green wings. On the grass beside the bush sat a young girl. Johannes saw only her light-blue frock and her blonde hair. A robin was perched on her shoulder, and pecked out of her hand. Suddenly, she turned her head around and saw Johannes. "Good day, little boy," said she, nodding in a friendly way. Again Johannes thrilled from head to foot. Those were Windekind's eyes--that was Windekind's voice! "Who are you?" he asked, his lips quivering with feeling. "I am Robinetta, and this is my bird. He will not be afraid of you. Do you like birds?" The redbreast was not afraid of Johannes. It flew to his arm. That was like old times. And it must be Windekind--that azure being! "Tell me your name, Laddie," said Windekind's voice. "Do you not know me? Do you not know that I am Johannes?" "How could I know that?" What did that mean? Still, it was the well-known, sweet voice. Those were the dark, heavenly-deep, blue eyes. "Why do you look at me so, Johannes? Have you ever seen me before?" "Yes, I do believe so." "Surely, you must have dreamed it!" "Dreamed?" thought Johannes. "Can I have dreamed everything? Can I be dreaming now?" "Where were you born?" he asked. "A long way from here, in a great city." "Among human beings?" Robinetta laughed. It was Windekind's laugh. "I believe so. Were not you?" "Alas, yes! I was too!" "Are you sorry for that? Do you not like human beings?"