Pluizer took him also into the great cathedrals, and let him listen to what was being said there. He took him to festivals, to great ceremonies, and into the heart of many homes. Johannes learned to know men, and sometimes it happened that he was led to think of his former life; of the fairy-tales that Windekind had told him, and of his own adventures. There were men who reminded him of the glow-worm who fancied he saw his deceased companions in the stars--or of the May-bug who was one day older than the other, and who had said so much about a calling. And he heard tales which made him think of Kribblegauw, the hero of the spiders; or of the eel who did nothing, and yet was fed because a fat king was most desired. He likened himself to the young May-bug who did not know what a calling was, and who flew into the light. He felt as if he also were creeping over the carpet, helpless and maimed, with a string around his body--a cutting string that Pluizer was pulling and twitching. Ah! he would never again find the garden! When would the heavy foot come and crush him? Pluizer ridiculed him whenever he spoke of Windekind, and, gradually, he began to believe that Windekind had never existed. "But, Pluizer, is there then no little key? Is there nothing at all?" "Nothing, nothing. Men and figures. _They_ are all real--they exist--no end of figures!" "Then you have deceived me, Pluizer! Let me leave off--do not make me seek any more--let me alone!" "Have you forgotten what Death said? You were to become a man--a complete man." "I will not--it is dreadful!" "You must--you have made your choice. Just look at Doctor Cijfer. Does he find it dreadful? Grow to be like him." It was quite true. Doctor Cijfer always seemed calm and happy. Untiring and imperturbable, he went his way--studying and instructing, contented and even-tempered. "Look at him," said Pluizer. "He sees all, and yet sees nothing. He looks at men as if he himself were another kind of being who had no concern about them. He goes amid disease and misery like one invulnerable, and consorts with Death like one immortal. He longs only to understand what he sees, and he thinks everything equally good that comes to him in the way of knowledge. He is satisfied with everything, as soon as he understands it. You ought to become so, too." "But I never can." "That is true, but it is not my fault." In this hopeless way their discussions always ended. Johannes grew dull and indifferent, seeking and seeking--what for or why, he no longer knew. He had become like the many to whom Wistik had spoken. The winter came, but he scarcely observed it. One chilly, misty morning, when the snow lay wet and dirty in the streets, and dripped from trees and roofs, he went with Pluizer to take his daily walk.