"If you know Andersen, little man, you ought to have more respect for God and His Word." "God!" He knew that word, and he thought about Windekind's lesson. "I have no respect for God. God is a big oil-lamp, which draws thousands to wreck and ruin." No laughing now, but a serious silence in which the horror and consternation were palpable. Johannes felt even in his back the piercing looks. It was like his dream of the night before. The man in black stood up and took him by the arm. That hurt, and almost broke his heart. "Listen, boy! I do not know whether you are foolish or deeply depraved, but I will not suffer such godlessness here. Go away and never come into my sight again, wretched boy! I shall ask about you, but never again set foot in this house. Do you understand?" Everybody looked at him coldly and unkindly--as in his dream the night before. Johannes looked around him in distress. "Robinetta! Where is Robinetta?" "Well, indeed! Corrupt my child? If you ever speak to her again, look out!" "No, let me go to her! I will not leave her. Robinetta!" cried Johannes. But she sat in a corner, frightened, and did not look up. "Out, you rascal! Do you hear? Take care, if you have the boldness to come back again." The painful grip led him through the sounding corridor--the glass door rattled, and Johannes stood outside, under the dark, lowering clouds. He did not cry now, but gazed quietly out in front of him as he slowly walked on. The sorrowful wrinkles were deeper above his eyes, and they stayed there. The little redbreast sat in a linden hedge and peered at him. He stood still and silently returned the look. But there was no trust now in the timid, peeping little eyes; and when he took a step nearer, the quick little creature whirred away from him. "Away, away! A human being!" chirped the sparrows, sitting together in the garden path. And they darted away in all directions. The open flowers did not smile, but looked serious and indifferent; as they do with every stranger. Johannes did not heed these signs, but was thinking of what the cruel men had done to him. He felt as if his inmost being had been violated by a hard, cold touch. "They _shall_ believe me!" thought he. "I will get my little key and show it to them." "Johannes! Johannes!" called a light, little voice. There was a bird's nest in a holly tree, and Wistik's big eyes peeped over the brim of it. "Where are you bound for?" "It is all your fault, Wistik," said Johannes. "Let me alone." "How did you come to talk about it to human beings? They do not understand. Why do you tell them these things? It is very stupid of you." "They laughed at me, and hurt me. They are miserable creatures. I hate them!" "No, Johannes, you love them." "No! No!" "If you did not, you would not mind it so much that they are not like yourself; and it would not matter what they said. You must concern yourself less about human beings." "I want my key. I want to show it to them."