"Even as I always have been with you," was the unexpected answer. "But I did not see you, then." "And very soon again you will not see me; yet I shall be with you, just the same. Therefore, you must cultivate your memory, so that it will remind you when your eyes see not. Who that is forgetful can be relied on? You have never been faithful, Johannes, and you will forget me also. But I shall remain faithful, and you will bring me to mind. Then, when you have learned to bethink yourself, and are yourself a faithful friend, you shall have a brother and a friend." * * * * * The road was firmer now, and in the distance they saw the lights of the town. Close by, the orange-yellow window-squares were glimmering through the rain and darkness--the dwellings themselves being still invisible in the night. They saw the pools glisten, and they met a man. There was a hurried, heavy footstep--a glowing red cigar-tip. Johannes breathed the well-known, offensive, human atmosphere of wet garments and tobacco smoke. By the flashes of lightning he could see all around him little white and grey cottages. He saw the gleaming street, far out in front of him--haystacks and barns--a fence along the way; everything suddenly sharp and livid. Then a change came over him. At once, he was conscious of everything, as one, being awakened, is aware of a voice already heard in his dream. He clearly felt himself to be an ordinary human being, like every one else. And his exalted companion was also an ordinary man. He saw both, just as the passers-by would see them; a man and a boy, wet with the rain, walking hand in hand. Windekind did not get wet in the rain. As they neared the suburbs, it became lighter and more noisy. It was not the great city where Johannes had lived with Pluizer, but the small one where he was born and where he had gone to school. And as the two approached, they heard, through the rushing of the rain and the rolling of the thunder, a lighter, indistinct sound which reminded Johannes so well of former times. It was a confused intermingling of voices, singing, a continual din of organ-grinding, sharp little sounds of trumpets and flutes, the reports of fire-crackers and rifle-shots, and now and then a shrill, discordant whistle, or the sound of a bell. It was the Fair! "Be careful now, Johannes. Here are people," said his companion. Johannes gave a start. His task was to begin. He could no longer rail at human beings, nor disclaim his own human origin. He knew now that he had been erring, and he resolved to mend his ways. Had not good Death told him it was well worth while to be a good man? So now he would live with men, and try to become a good man himself; to relieve pain, to lighten grief, and to bring beauty and happiness into the lives of others. Was not that what He was teaching--He at whose blessed side he should henceforth go?