VIII
'Now he will come back,' thought Johannes, the first time the snow had melted here and there, and the snowdrops peeped out in bunches. 'Will he come now?' he asked of the snowdrops. But they did not know, and stood there with hanging heads, looking down at the earth as if they were ashamed of their haste to come out, and would gladly creep back again.
If only they could have done so! The numbing east wind soon began to blow again, and the snow drifted deep over the foolish, forward little things. Some weeks later came the violets; their sweet smell betrayed them among the brushwood; and when the sun had shone warmly on the mossy ground the pale primroses came out by hundreds and thousands.
The shy violets with their fine fragrance were the mysterious harbingers of coming splendour, but the glad primroses were the glorious reality. The waking earth had caught and captured the first sunbeams and turned them into a golden jewel.
'Now – now he will certainly come!' thought Johannes. He eagerly watched the leaf-buds on the trees as they slowly swelled day by day and freed themselves from the bark, till the first pale-green tips peeped out between the brown scales. Johannes would stand gazing for long at the little young leaves – he could never see them move, but if he only turned round, they seemed to have grown bigger. 'They dare not, so long as I am looking at them,' thought he.
The shade had already begun to be green. Still Windekind did not come, no dove had settled near him, no little mouse had spoken to him. When he spoke to the flowers they merely nodded and never answered.
'My punishment is not yet ended,' thought he.
One sunny spring morning he went to the pond by the great house. The windows were all wide open. Had the people who lived there come back?
The bird-cherry which grew by the water-side was entirely covered with fresh leaves; every twig had a crop of delicate green winglets. On the grass by the tree lay a young girl; Johannes could only see that she had a light-blue dress and fair hair. A robin, sitting on her shoulder, fed out of her hand. She suddenly turned her head and looked at Johannes.
'Good-day, little man!' said she, with a friendly nod.
Johannes felt a glow from head to foot. Those were Windekind's eyes; that was Windekind's voice.
'Who are you?' he asked. His lips trembled with excitement.
'I am Robinetta, and this is my bird. He will not be afraid of you. Are you fond of birds?'
The Redbreast was not afraid of Johannes; it flew on to his arm. This was just as it used to be. The being in blue must be Windekind.
'And tell me what your name is, boy,' said Windekind's voice.
'Do you not know me? Do you not know that my name is Johannes?'
'How should I know that?'
What did this mean? For it was the sweet familiar voice, and those were the same dark, heavenly-deep blue eyes.
'Why do you look at me so, Johannes? Have you ever seen me before?'
'Yes I have, indeed.'
'You must surely have dreamed it.'
'Dreamed it?' thought Johannes. 'Can I have dreamed it? Or can I be dreaming now?'
'Where were you born?' he inquired.
'A long way from hence, in a great town.'
'Among human beings?'
Robinetta laughed – it was Windekind's laugh. 'Why, I should think so. Were not you?'
'Oh yes, I was too.'
'Do you object to that? Do you not like human beings?'
'No. Who could?'
'Who? – Well, Johannes, you are a very strange little boy. Do you like beasts better?'
'Oh, much better, – and flowers.'
'So do I myself sometimes; just for once in a while. But it is not right. We ought to love our fellow-men, my father says.'
'Why is it not right? I love whom I choose, whether it is right or not.'
'Fie, Johannes! Have you no parents or any one to take care of you? And do you not love them?'
'Yes,' said Johannes thoughtfully, 'I love my father. But not because it is right – nor yet because he is a man.'
'Why then?'
'That I do not know, – because he is not like other men; because he too is fond of birds and flowers.'
'And so am I, Johannes, as you may see.' And Robinetta called the robin to sit on her hand and talked to him fondly.
'That I know,' replied Johannes, 'and I love you very much.'
'Already? That is quick work!' laughed the girl. 'And whom, then, do you love best?'
Johannes hesitated. Should he utter Windekind's name? The fear that he might accidentally speak it in the presence of other persons was never out of his thoughts. And yet, was not this fair-haired creature in blue Windekind in person? How else could she give him such a sense of rest and gladness?
'You,' he suddenly replied, looking full into those deep blue eyes. He boldly made a complete surrender; but he was a little alarmed nevertheless, and anxiously awaited her reception of his precious offering.
Robinetta laughed again, a light clear laugh; but she took his hand and her look was no colder nor her voice less full of feeling.
'Why, Johannes,' said she, 'what have I done to deserve it all at once?'
Johannes made no reply, but stood looking at her with trustful eyes. Robinetta rose and laid her arm on his shoulder. She was taller than he. Thus they wandered on through the wood, gathering great bunches of cowslips till they could have hidden under the mass of bright yellow blossoms. The robin flew, as they went on, from branch to branch, and watched them with his glittering little black eyes.
They did not talk much, but looked at each other now and then, with a side glance. They were both embarrassed by this meeting and did not know what to think of each other.
But Robinetta had soon to turn back. It was growing late.
'I must go now, Johannes. But will you come and walk with me again? I think you are a nice little boy,' she said as they turned round.
'Weet, weet!' piped the robin, and flew after her.
When she was away and he had only her image left to think of, he had not a moment's doubt as to who she was. She it was to whom he had given his friendship: the name of Windekind faded from his mind, and that of Robinetta took its place.
And now everything was the same to him again as it had formerly been. The flowers nodded gaily, and their scent drove away the melancholy home-sickness which he had felt and encouraged now and then. Amid the tender greenery, in the warm, soft breeze of spring, he all at once felt himself at home, like a bird that has found its nest. He spread out his arms and drew a deep breath; he was so happy. As he went homewards the figure in light blue with yellow hair, floated before him whichever way he turned his gaze. It was as though he had looked on the sun, and its image danced before his eyes where-ever he looked.
From that day forward Johannes found his way to the pond every fine morning. He went early, as soon as he was roused by the squabbling of the sparrows in the ivy round his window, and by the twitter and wheeze of the starlings as they fluttered on the roof and wheeled in the early sunshine. Then he flew off through the dewy grass, to wait close by the house, behind a lilac-bush, till he heard the glass door open and saw the light figure come out.
Away they went, wandering through the wood and over the sand-hills which skirted it. They talked of all they saw, the trees, and the plants and the downs. Johannes had a strange bewildered feeling as he walked by her side; sometimes he felt so light that he fancied he could fly through the air. But that never happened. He told her all the stories of the flowers and animals that he had heard from Windekind. But he had forgotten who had told them to him, and Windekind did not now stand before him, only Robinetta. He was happy when she smiled at Mm and he saw her friendship for him in her eyes; and he would talk to her as of old he had talked to his little dog, telling her everything that came into his head, without reserve or timidity. During the hours when he could not see her he thought of her; and in everything he did he asked himself whether Robinetta would think it right or nice. She herself seemed no less pleased to see him; she smiled and ran quicker to meet him. She told him indeed that there was no one she was so glad to walk with as with him.
'But, Johannes,' said she one day, 'how do you know all these things? How do you know what the cockchafers think about, what the thrushes sing, what the inside of the rabbit-holes is like, and how things look at the bottom of the water?'
'I have been told,' answered Johannes, 'and I have myself been inside a rabbit-burrow, and down to the bottom of the water.'
Robinetta knit her pretty eyebrows and looked at him half mockingly. But he looked as if he were speaking the truth. They were sitting under lilac-trees covered with large bunches of purple blossoms. In front of them was the pond with its reeds and duck-weed. They saw the black water-snails gliding below the surface, and red spiders busily swinging up and down. It was swarming with life and movement. Johannes, lost in remembrance, gazed down into the depths and said —
'I went down there once. I slipped down a reed to the very bottom. It is covered all over with dead leaves which fall so lightly and softly. It is always twilight there – green twilight, because the light comes through the green duck-weed. And over my head I saw the long white rootlets of the duck-weed hanging down. Newts came and swam round me; they are very inquisitive. It is strange to see such great creatures swimming overhead; and I could not see far before me, it was too dark, and all green. In that darkness, the creatures appeared like black shades. Water-snails with their swimming-foot and flat shells, and sometimes a little fish. I went a long way, for hours, I believe, and in the middle was a great forest of water-plants, where snails were creeping and water-spiders wove their glistening nets. Sticklebacks shot in and out, and sometimes paused to stare at me, with open mouth and quivering fins – they were so much astonished. I made friends there with an eel, whose tail I unfortunately trod on. He told me the history of his travels; he had been as far as the sea, he said. For this, he had been chosen king of the pool, for no one else had ever been so far. He always lay sleeping in the mud, except when he got something to eat which the others brought him. He ate a terrible quantity. That was because he was king; they like to have a very fat king; it looks grand. Oh! it was lovely down in that pool.'
'They why do you not go down there again now?'
'Now?' repeated Johannes, looking at her with wide, bewildered eyes. 'Now? I can never go again now. I should be drowned. But I do not care. I had rather stay here, by the lilac-bush, with you.'
Robinetta shook her yellow head, much puzzled, and stroked Johannes's hair. Then she looked at her bird, which seemed to be finding all sorts of delicious morsels by the edge of the pond. It glanced up at that moment, and watched the pair for a moment with its bright little eyes.
'Do you understand anything of all this, Dicky-bird?'
The Robin looked very knowing and went on hunting and pecking.
'Tell me something more, Johannes, of the things you have seen.'
This Johannes was very glad to do, and Robinetta listened with attentive belief in all he said.
'But where did this all happen? Why cannot you go now with me? Everywhere – all about? I should like it so much.'
Johannes did his best to remember, but a sunlit mist covered the dim landscape where he had once wandered. He could not quite make out how it was that his former happiness had deserted him.
'I do not know exactly – you must not ask about that. A foolish little being spoiled it all. But it is all right now – better even than before.'
The scent of the lilac poured down on them from the bushes, and the humming of the insects on the pool, and the peaceful sunshine filled them with pleasant drowsiness, till a bell rang at the great house with a swinging clang, and Robinetta flew off.
When Johannes went into his little room that evening, as he looked at the moon-shadows of the ivy leaves which stole across the brick floor, he fancied he heard a tap at the window. He thought it was an ivy leaf shaken by the wind. But it was such a distinct knocking, three taps each time, that Johannes softly opened the window and cautiously peeped out. The ivy against the wall glistened in the blue gleam – the dark world below was full of mystery; there were hollows and caves, where the moon lighted up small blue sparks, which made the darkness behind seem deeper still. After staring for a long time into the marvels of the shadow-world, Johannes discerned the form of a tiny mannikin, close to the window, screened by a large ivy leaf. He at once recognised Wistik by his large wondering eyes and uplifted eyebrows. The moon had set a spark of light on the tip of Wistik's long nose.
'Have you forgotten me, Johannes? Why do you never think of me? It is the right time of year. Have you asked Robin Redbreast to show you the way?'
'Oh, Wistik, why should I ask? I have all I can wish for. I have Robinetta.'
'But that cannot last long. And you might be happier still – and certainly Robinetta might. And is the little key to lie there? Only think how splendid it would be if you two were to find the Book! Ask Robin Redbreast about it, and I will help as far as I can.'
'I can ask about it at any rate,' said Johannes.
Wistik nodded, and nimbly scrambled down to the ground; and Johannes looked at the deep shadows and the shining ivy leaves for a long time before he went to bed.
Next day he asked the Redbreast whether he knew the way to the golden chest. Robinetta listened in surprise. Johannes saw the Robin nod his head and give a side-glance at Robinetta.
'Not here! not here!' piped the little bird.
'What are you asking, Johannes?' said Robinetta.
'Do you know anything about it, Robinetta? Do you know where it is to be found? Are you not waiting for the little golden key?'
'No, no. Tell me, what is it?'
Johannes told her all he knew about the Book. 'And I have the key, and I thought that you must have the little golden chest. Is it not so, Dicky-bird?'
But the bird pretended not to hear, and flew about among the young pale-green birch boughs. They were sitting under a sand-hill, on which little birches and broom shrubs grew. A grassy path ran up the slope, and they sat at the edge of it, on the thick, dark, green moss. They could see over the tops of the low shrubs, a green sea of leaves with waves in light and shade.
'I believe,' said Robinetta, after thinking for some time, 'that I can find what you want before you do. But what do you mean about the little key? How did you come by it?'
'Ah! – how did I? – How was that?' muttered Johannes to himself, staring across the green landscape into the distance.
Suddenly, as though they had come into being under the sunny blue sky, a pair of white butterflies met his sight. They flitted and wheeled, and shone in the sunshine with purposeless giddy flutterings; but they came close to him.
'Windekind! Windekind!' The name came back to Johannes, and he spoke it in a whisper.
'What is Windekind?' asked Robinetta. The Redbreast flew chirping up, and the daisies in the grass at their feet seemed all at once to be staring at Johannes in alarm with their round white eyes.
'Did he give you the little key?' the girl went on.
Johannes nodded; still he said nothing, but she wanted to know more about it.
'Who was it? Did he tell you all these things? Where is he?'
'He is gone. – Now it is Robinetta – no one but Robinetta – only Robinetta.'
He took her arm and laid his head against it.
'Silly boy!' she said, laughing, 'I will make you find the Book; I know where it is.'
'But then I must go to fetch the key, and it is a long way off.'
'No, no, you need not. I can find it without the key. – To-morrow, I promise you, to-morrow.'
And as they walked homewards, the butterflies flitted in front of them.
That night, Johannes dreamed of his father, of Robinetta, and of many others. They were all good friends; they stood round him and looked at him kindly and trustfully. But on a sudden, their faces were changed, they looked coldly and laughed at him. He gazed about him in terror – on all sides there were none but angry, unfriendly faces. He felt a nameless misery, and awoke with a cry.
IX
Johannes had sat waiting for a long time. The air was chill, and heavy clouds swept over the scene in endless succession. They spread a dark grey mantle in wide folds, and lifted their proud heads to the bright light which shone above them. Sunshine and shadow chased each other with wonderful swiftness across the trees, like a fitfully blazing fire. Johannes was uneasy in his mind; he was thinking of the Book, not really believing that he should ever find it. Between the clouds very, very high up, he saw the clear, deep blue strewn with fleecy white clouds, soft and feathery, floating in calm and motionless rest.
'It must be like that!' thought he. 'So high, so bright, so still!'
Then came Robinetta. Her bird was not with her.
'It is all right, Johannes!' she cried out. 'You may come and see the Book.'
'Where is Robin Redbreast?' said Johannes doubtfully.
'He did not come; as we are not going for a walk.'
So he went with her, still thinking to himself: 'It cannot be. – It will not be like this, – it must be quite different.' However, he followed the shining golden hair which lighted up the way.
Alas! Sad things now befell little Johannes. I wish that his history ended here. Did you ever have a beautiful dream of an enchanted garden, with flowers and beasts who loved you and talked to you? And have you in your dream had the consciousness that you would presently awake, and all the glory of it vanish? Then you try with all your might to hold it fast, and not to see the cold light of morning.
Johannes had just such a feeling as he followed Robinetta.
She led him into the big house, into a passage where his steps echoed. He could smell the scent of clothes and food; he thought of the long days when he had been kept indoors – of his school-days – and of everything in his life which had been cold and gloomy.
They went into a room full of men and women; how many, he could not see. They were talking, but as he went in they were silent. He noticed that the carpet had a pattern of huge, impossible flowers in gaudy colours. They were as strange and monstrous as those on the curtains in his bedroom at home.
'So that is the gardener's little boy?' said a voice opposite him. 'Come here, my little friend; there is nothing to be afraid of.'
And another voice close to him said —
'Well, Robbie, you have found a nice little companion.'
What did it all mean? The deep lines gathered again above Johannes's dark childlike eyes, and he looked about him in bewilderment and alarm. A man dressed in black sat near him, looking at him with cold, grey eyes.
'So you want to see the Book of Books? I am surprised that your father, whom I know for a pious man, should not have put it into your hands before now.'
'You do not know my father; he is far, far away.'
'Indeed! Well, it is the same thing. Look here, my little friend! Read this diligently; it shall show you the way of life – '
But Johannes had already recognised the Book. This was not what he wanted. No, something very different. He shook his head.
'No, no! that is not what I mean. I know this Book. This is not it.'
He heard exclamations of surprise, and felt the looks which were fixed on him from all sides.
'What? What do you mean, little man?'
'I know this book. It is the book men believe in. But there is not enough in it – if there were, there would be peace and goodwill among men. And there is none. I mean something different – something which no one can doubt who sees it; in which it is written, precisely and clearly, why everything is as it is.'
'How is that possible? Where can the boy have picked up such a notion?'
'Who taught you that, my little friend?'
'I am afraid that you have read some wicked books, child, and are talking like them.'
Thus spoke the various voices. Johannes felt his cheeks burning – his eyes were dim and dazzled – the room turned round, and the huge flowers on the carpet swayed up and down. Where was the little mouse who had so faithfully helped him that day in the school-room? He wanted her badly.
'I am not talking like any book, and he who taught me what I know is worth more than all of you together. I know the language of flowers and animals, and am friends with them all. And I know too what men are, and how they live. I know all the fairies' secrets and the wood-sprites'; for they all love me – more than men do.'
Oh Mousey, Mousey!
Johannes heard sounds of disapprobation and laughter behind him, and all sides. There was a singing and roaring in his ears.
'He seems to have read Hans Andersen's tales.'
'He is not quite right in his head.'
The man opposite to him said: 'If you know Andersen, my little man, you ought to have more of his reverence for God and His Word.'
'For God!' He knew that word, and he remembered Windekind's teaching.
'I have no reverence for God. God is a great Petroleum-lamp which leads thousands to misery and misfortune.'
There was no laughter now, but a terrible silence, in which horror and amazement might be felt on all sides. Johannes was conscious of piercing looks, even at his back. It was like his dream of the night before. The man in black stood up and took him by the arm. This hurt him and almost crushed his courage.
'Listen to me, youngster: I do not know whether you are utterly ignorant or utterly depraved, but I suffer no ungodly talk here. Go away, and never come in my sight again, I advise you. I will keep an eye on what becomes of you, but you never more set foot in this house. Do you understand?'
Every face was cold and hostile as he had seen them in his dream. Johannes looked about him in anguish.
'Robinetta – where is Robinetta?'
'Ay indeed! You would contaminate my child! Beware if you ever dare to come here again!' And the cruel grip led him down the echoing passage – the glass door slammed – and Johannes found himself outside, under the black driving clouds.
He did not turn round, but stared straight before him as he slowly walked away. The sad furrows above his eyes were deeper, and did not smooth out again.
The Redbreast sat in a lime hedge looking after him. He stopped and gazed back, but did not speak; but there was no longer any confidence in the bird's timid sharp little eyes, and when Johannes took a step nearer, the quick little creature shot away in hasty flight.
'Away, away! Here is a man!' piped the sparrows who were sitting in a row on the garden path, and they fluttered away in all directions. Even the open blossoms laughed no more, but looked grave and indifferent, as they do to all strangers. Still Johannes did not heed these signs, but only thought how cruelly he had been hurt by those men; it was as though a cold hard hand had been laid on his inmost secret soul. 'They shall believe me yet!' thought he. 'I will fetch my little key and show it to them.'
'Johannes, Johannes!' called a tiny voice. There was a bird's nest in a holly bush and Wistik's big eyes peeped out over the edge of it. 'Where are you off to?'
'It is all your fault!' said Johannes. 'Leave me in peace.'
'What took you to talk with men? Men can never understand you. Why do you tell men such things? It is most foolish.'
'They laughed at me, and hurt me. They are detestable creatures! I hate them.'
'No, Johannes; you love them.'
'No, no!'
'If you did not, it would not vex you so much to find yourself different from them; it could not matter to you what they say. You must learn to care less.'
'I want my key. I want to show it to them.'
'You must not do that; and they would not even then believe you. Of what use would it be?'
'I want my little key from under the rose-bush. Do you know where to find it?'
'Yes, certainly; by the pool you mean? Yes, I know it.'
'Then take me there, Wistik.'
Wistik clambered up on Johannes's shoulder and showed him the way. They went on and on, all the day; the wind blew, and heavy rain fell from time to time, but towards evening the clouds ceased driving, and packed into long grey and gold bars. When they reached the sand-hills which Johannes knew so well, his heart was sad within him, and he whispered again and again, 'Windekind, Windekind!'
There was the rabbit-hole, and the sand-hill where he had fallen asleep. The grey reindeer-moss was soft and damp, and did not crack under his feet. The roses were all over, and the yellow evening-primroses with their faint oppressive scent opened their cups by hundreds. Higher yet grew the tall mulleins with their thick woolly leaves. Johannes looked carefully to espy the small russet leaves of the wild rose.
'Where is it, Wistik? I do not see it.'
'I know nothing of it,' said Wistik. 'You buried the key, not I.'
Where the rose-tree had stood there was a plot covered with yellow Oenotheras staring heedlessly at the sky. Johannes questioned them, and the mullein too; but they were much too proud, for their tall stems rose far above his head; so he asked the little three-coloured pansies on the sandy ground. However, no one knew anything of the wild rose. They were all new-comers this summer, even the mullein, arrogant and tall as it was.
'Oh! where is it? where is it?'
'Have you too deceived me?' cried Wistik. 'I expected it; it is always so with men.'
And he let himself slip down from Johannes's shoulder, and ran away among the broom. Johannes looked about him in despair – there stood a tiny wild rose-bush.
'Where is the big rose-bush?' asked Johannes; 'the big one which used to stand here?'
'We never talk with human creatures,' said the shrub.
That was the last thing he heard; everything remained silent. Only the broom-shrubs sighed in the light evening breeze.
'Am I then a man?' thought Johannes. 'No! it cannot be, it cannot be! I will not be a man! I hate men!'
He was tired and sick at heart. He lay down at the edge of the meadow, on the soft grey moss which gave out a strong, damp scent.
'Now I cannot find my way back, and shall never see Robinetta again. Shall I not die if I have not Robinetta? Shall I live and grow to be a man – a man like those others who laughed at me?'
On a sudden he saw once more the two white butterflies which came flying towards him from the side where the sun was setting. He watched them anxiously; would they show him the way? They fluttered over his head, sometimes close together and sometimes far apart, flitting about as if in whimsical play. By degrees they went farther and farther from the sun, and vanished at last over the ridge of the sand-hills towards the wood, where only the topmost boughs were now red in the evening glow which blazed out brightly from beneath the long dark levels of cloud.
Johannes rose and went after them, but as they flew up over the first trees he saw that a black shadow followed them and overtook them with noiseless flight. The next instant they were gone. The black shade pounced swiftly down on them, and Johannes in terror covered his face with his hands.
'Well, my little friend, what have you to cry about?' said a sharp mocking voice close at hand. Johannes had seen a big bat coming towards him, but when he now looked up a little black dwarf not much taller than himself was standing on the sand-hill. He had a large head with big ears which stuck out dark against the bright evening sky; a lean shape and thin legs. Johannes could see nothing of his face but the small twinkling eyes.
'Have you lost anything, my little fellow? Can I help you seek it?' said he. But Johannes shook his head in silence.
'Look here. Would you like to have these?' he began again, opening his hand. In it Johannes saw something white which still moved a little. This was the two white butterflies, their crushed and broken wings quivering in their death-struggle. Johannes shuddered as though some one had blown against the nape of his neck, and he looked up in alarm at the strange being.
'Who are you?' he asked.
'You would like to know my name? Well, call me Pluizer8– simply Pluizer. I have other prettier names, but you would not understand them yet.'
'Are you a man?'
'Better and better! Well, I have arms and legs and a head – see what a head – and the boy asks me whether lama man! Why, Johannes, Johannes!' And the mannikin laughed with a shrill piercing note.
'How do you know who I am?' asked Johannes.
'Oh, that, to me, is a mere trifle. I know a great deal more than that. I know whence you have come and what you came to do. I know a wonderful deal – almost everything.'
'Ah, Master Pluizer – '
'Pluizer, Pluizer – without any fine words.'
'Then do you know anything – ' but Johannes was suddenly silent. 'He is a man,' thought he.
'Of the little key, do you mean? Why, to be sure!'
'But I did not think that any man could know about that.'
'Foolish boy! Besides, Wistik has told me all about it.'
'Then do you know Wistik too?'
'Oh yes! One of my best friends – and I have many friends. But I know it without Wistik. I know a great deal more than Wistik. Wistik is a very good fellow – but stupid, uncommonly stupid. Now, I am not! Far from it!'
And Pluizer tapped his big head with his lean little hand. 'Do you know, Johannes,' he went on, 'what Wistik's great defect is? – but you must never tell him, for he would be very angry.'
'Well, what is it?' said Johannes.
'He does not exist. That is a great defect, but he does not admit it. And he says the same of me, that I do not exist. But that is a lie. I not exist, indeed! What next, I wonder?'
And Pluizer put the butterflies into his satchel, and suddenly turning a somersault stood before Johannes on his head. Then, with a hideous grin, he stuck out a vile long tongue. Johannes, who did not feel at all at his ease alone with this strange being in the growing dusk on the deserted sand-hills, now fairly quaked with fear.
'This is a delightful manner of surveying the world,' said Pluizer, still upside down. 'If you like I will teach you to do it. You see everything much clearer, and more life-like.' And he flourished his little legs in the air and waltzed round on his hands. As the red light fell on his inverted face Johannes thought it perfectly horrible; those little eyes twinkled in the glow and showed the whites at the lower edge where it is not generally visible.