On the top of the last high swell of the dunes Johannes saw Windekind's form. There was a blinding glitter from his upraised hand. Borne over from the other side by a cool breeze, a great, unceasing roar sounded mysteriously alluring. It was the sea. Johannes felt that he was nearing it, and he slowly climbed the last ascent. At the top, he fell on his knees and gazed upon the ocean. As he got above the ridge, a rosy glow illumined him. The sunset clouds had drawn apart from the central light. Like a wide ring of welded blocks of stone, with glowing red edges, they surrounded the sinking sun. Upon the sea was a broad path of living, crimson fire--a flaming, sparkling path leading to the distant gates of heaven. Behind the sun, which could not yet be looked upon--in the depths of the light-grotto--were exquisite tints of intermingled blue and rose. Outside, the whole wide sky was lighted up with blood-red streaks, and dashes and fleckings of streaming fire. Johannes watched--until the sun's disk touched the farthest end of that glowing path which led up to him. Then he looked down, and very near was the bright form that he had followed. A boat, clear and glistening as crystal, drifted near the shore upon the broad, fiery way. At one end of the boat stood Windekind, alert and slender, with that golden object in his hand. At the other end, Johannes recognized the dark figure of Death. "Windekind! Windekind!" cried Johannes. But as he approached the marvelous boat, he also looked toward the horizon. In the middle of the glowing space, surrounded by great fiery clouds, he saw a small, black figure. It grew larger and larger, and a man slowly drew near, calmly walking on the tossing fiery waters. The glowing red waves rose and fell beneath his feet, but he walked tranquilly onward. The man's face was pale, and his eyes were dark and deep--deep as the eyes of Windekind; but there was an infinitely gentle melancholy in their look such as Johannes had never seen in any other eyes. "Who are you?" asked Johannes. "Are you a man?" "I am more," was the reply. "Art Thou Jesus--Art Thou God?" asked Johannes. "Speak not those names!" said the figure. "They were holy and pure as sacerdotal robes, and precious as nourishing corn; yet they have become as husks before swine, and a jester's garb for fools. Name them not, for their meaning has become perverted, their worship a mockery. Let him who would know me cast aside those names and listen to himself." "I know Thee! I know Thee!" said Johannes. "It was I who made you weep for men, while yet you did not understand your tears. It was I who caused you to love before you knew the meaning of your love. I was with you and you saw me not--I stirred your soul and you knew me not. "Why do I first see Thee now?" "The eyes which behold Me must be brightened by many tears. And not for yourself alone, but for Me, must you weep. Then I will appear to you and you shall recognize in Me an old friend."