The Quest

All present were quietly lauding his goodness. He had praised the moonlight on the dunes, and had said that the glow-worms here were almost as beautiful as the fireflies of the Orient. He had pleasantly overlooked the wall decorations, and a mole, even, had noticed that he nodded approvingly.

"Come with me," said Windekind. "I will present you." And they pressed forward to the place where the king sat.

When Oberon recognized Windekind, he greeted him joyfully, and gave him a kiss. At that the guests whispered to one another, and the elves threw envious glances at the pair. The two plump toads in the corner mumbled together something about "fawning and flattering," and "not lasting long," and then nodded very significantly to each other.

Windekind talked with Oberon for a long time in a strange language, and then beckoned to Johannes to come closer.

"Give me your hand, Johannes," said the king. "Windekind's friends are mine also. Whenever I can I will help you, and I will give you a token of our alliance."

Oberon released from the chain about his neck a little gold key, and gave it to Johannes who took it respectfully and held it shut close in his hand.

"That little key may be your fortune," said the king. "It fits a golden chest which contains a precious treasure. Who holds that chest I cannot say, but you must search for it zealously. If you remain good friends with me and with Windekind – steadfast and true – you will surely succeed." With that, the elf-king inclined his beautiful head, cordially, while Johannes, overflowing with happiness, expressed his thanks.

At this moment, three frogs, who were sitting together upon a little mound of damp moss, began to sing the introduction to a slow waltz, and partners were taken for the dance. Those who did not dance were lined along the side walls by the master of ceremonies – a lively, fussy little lizard – to the great vexation of the two toads who complained that they could not see. Then the dancing began.

And it was so comical! Every one danced in his own way, and fancied, of course, that he danced better than any one else. The mice and frogs sprang high up on their hind feet, and an old rat whirled round so wildly that all the dancers retreated before him. A fat tree-slug took a turn with a mole, but soon gave it up, under pretense that she was taken with a stitch in the side. The real reason was that she could not dance very well.

However, everything moved on seriously and ceremoniously. It was a matter of conscience with them, and all looked anxiously toward the king to find a sign of approval upon his countenance. But the king was afraid of causing discontent, and looked very sedate. His followers considered it beneath them to take part in the dancing.

Johannes had contained himself well, through all this seriousness, but when he saw a tiny toad whirling around with a tall lizard, who now and then lifted the unhappy toad high up off the floor and described a half circle with her in the air, he burst out into a merry laugh.

Then there was consternation. The music stopped and the king; looked round with a troubled air. The master of ceremonies flew in full speed up to the laugher, and urgently besought him to conduct himself with more decorum.

"Dancing is a serious matter," said he, "and nothing at all to be laughed at. This is a dignified company, who are dancing not merely for the fun of it. Every one was doing his best, and no one wished to be laughed at. That was very rude. More than that, this is a mourning feast – a sorrowful occasion. One should conduct himself respectably here, and not behave as though he were among human beings."

Johannes was frightened at that. Moreover, he saw hostile looks. His familiarity with the king had made him many enemies. Windekind led him to one side.

"We would better go away," he whispered. "You have made a mess of it again. That is the way when one is brought up among human beings."

Hastily, they slipped out under the bat-wing portiere, and entered the dim passage. The polite glow-worm was waiting for them.

"Have you had a good time?" he asked. "Did King Oberon speak with you?"

"Oh, yes. It was a jolly festival," said Johannes. "Do you have to stay here all the time, in this dark passage?"

"That is my own choice," said the glow-worm, in a bitter, mournful voice. "I care no more for vanities."

"Come," said Windekind, "you do not mean that!"

"It is just as I say. Formerly – formerly there was a time when I, too, went to feasts, and danced, and kept up with such frivolities; but now I am purified through suffering, now…" And he became so agitated that his light went out again. Fortunately they were near the outlet, and the rabbit, hearing them coming, moved a little to one side, so that the moonlight shone in.

As soon as they were outside by the rabbit, Johannes said: "Will you not tell us your history, Glow-worm?"

"Alas!" sighed the glow-worm, "it is a sad and simple story. It will not amuse you."

"Tell us! Tell us, all the same!" they cried.

"Well, then, you know that we glow-worms are very peculiar beings. Yes, I believe no one would contradict that we glow-worms are the most highly gifted of all who live.

"Why? I do not know that," said the rabbit. At this, the glow-worm asked disdainfully, "Can you give light?"

"No, indeed, I cannot," the rabbit was obliged to confess.

"Now we give light – all of us. And we can make it shine or can extinguish it. Light is the best gift of Nature, and to make light is the highest achievement of any living being. Ought any one then to contest our precedence? Moreover, we little fellows have wings, and can fly for miles."

"I cannot do that, either," humbly admitted the rabbit.

"Through the divine gift of light which we have," continued the glow-worm, "other creatures stand in awe of us, and no bird will attack us. Only one animal – the human being – the basest of all, chases us, and carries us off. He is the most detestable monster in creation!"

At this sally Johannes looked at Windekind as though he did not understand. But Windekind smiled, and motioned to him to be silent.

"Once, I flew gaily around among the shrubs, like a bright will-o'-the-wisp. In a moist, lonely meadow on the bank of a ditch there lived one whose existence was inseparably linked with my own happiness. She sparkled beautifully in her light emerald-green as she crept about in the grass, and my young heart was enraptured. I circled about her, and did my best, by making my light play, to attract her attention. Gratefully, I saw that she had perceived me, and demurely extinguished her own light. Trembling with emotion, I was on the point of folding my wings and sinking down in rapture beside my radiant loved one, when the air was filled with an awful noise. Dark figures approached. They were human beings. In terror, I took flight. They chased me, and struck at me with big black things. But my wings went faster than their clumsy legs."

"When I returned – "

Here the narrator's voice failed him. After an instant of deep emotion, during which the three listeners maintained a respectful silence, he continued:

"You may already have surmised it. My tender bride – the brightest, most glowing of all – she had disappeared; kidnapped by cruel human beings. The still, dewy grass-plot was trampled, and her favorite place by the ditch was dark and deserted. I was alone in the world."

Here the impressionable rabbit once again pulled down an ear, and wiped a tear from his eye.

"Since that time I have been a different creature. I have an aversion for all idle pleasures. I think only of her whom I have lost, and of the time when I shall see her again."

"Really! Do you still hope to?" said the rabbit, rejoiced.

"I more than hope – I am certain. In heaven I shall see my beloved again."

"But – " the rabbit objected.

"Bunnie," said the glow-worm, gravely, "I can understand that one who was obliged to grope about in the dark might doubt, but when one can see, with his own eyes! That puzzles me. There!" said the glow-worm, gazing reverently up at the star-dotted skies; "there I behold them – all my forefathers, all my friends, and her, too, more gloriously radiant than when here upon earth. Ah, when shall I be able to rise up out of this lower life, and fly to her who beckons me so winsomely? When, ah, when?"

With a sigh, the glow-worm turned away from his listeners and crept back again into the dark passage.

"Poor creature!" said the rabbit. "I hope he is right."

"I hope so too," added Johannes.

"I have my doubts," said Windekind, "but it was very touching."

"Dear Windekind," began Johannes, "I am very tired and sleepy."

"Then come close to me, and I will cover you with my mantle."

Windekind took off his little blue mantle and spread it over Johannes and himself.

So they lay down on the gentle slope, in the fragrant moss, with their arms about each other's neck.

"Your heads lie rather low," said the rabbit. "Will you rest them against me?"

They did so.

"Good-night, Mother!" said Windekind to the moon.

Then Johannes shut the little gold key tight in his hand, pressed his head against the downy coat of the good rabbit, and fell fast asleep.

III

Where is he, Presto? – Where is he? What a fright to wake up in the boat, among the reeds, all alone, the master gone and not a trace of him! It is something to be alarmed about.

And how long you have been running, barking nervously, trying to find him, poor Presto! How could you sleep so soundly and not notice the little master get out of the boat? Otherwise, you would have wakened as soon as he made the least move.

You could scarcely find the place where he landed, and here in the downs you are all confused. That nervous sniffing has not helped a bit. Oh, despair! The master gone – not a sign of him. Find him, Presto, find him!

See! straight before you on the hillside. Is not that a little form lying there? Look! look!

For an instant the little dog stood motionless, straining his gaze out into the distance. Then suddenly he stretched out his head, and raced – flew with all the might of his four little paws toward that dark spot on the hillside.

And when it proved to be the grievously wanted little master, he could not find a way to fully express his joy and thankfulness. He wagged his tail, his entire little body quivering with joy – he jumped, yelped, barked, and then pushed his little cold nose against the face of his long-sought friend, and licked and sniffed all over it.

"Cuddle down, Presto, in your basket," said Johannes, only half awake.

How stupid of the master! There was no basket there, as any one could see.

Very, very slowly the day began to break in the mind of the little sleeper.

Presto's sniffings he was used to – every morning. But dream-figures of elves and moonshine still lingered in his soul as the morning mists cling to the landscape. He feared that the chill breath of the dawn might chase them away. "Eyes fast shut," thought he, "or I shall see the clock and the wall-paper, just as ever."

But he was not lying right. He felt there was no covering over him. Slowly and cautiously he opened his eyelids a very little way.

Bright light. Blue sky. Clouds.

Then Johannes opened his eyes wide and said: "Is it really true?"

Yes, he lay in the middle of the dunes. The cheerful sunshine warmed him, he breathed the fresh morning air, and in the distance a fine mist skirted the woods. He saw only the tall beech tree beside the pond, and the roof of his house rising above the foliage. Bees and beetles hummed about him; above him sang the ascending skylark; from far away came the sound of barkino-does, and the rumble of the distant town. It was all as plain as day.

But what had he dreamed and what not? Where was Windekind? And where was the rabbit?

He could see neither of them. Only Presto, who sat up against him as close as possible, watching him expectantly.

"Could I have been sleep-walking?" murmured Johannes, softly.

Beside him was a rabbit-hole. But there were a great many such in the dunes. He sat up straight, so as to give it a good look. What was it he felt in his tightly shut hand?

A thrill ran through him from the crown of his head to his feet as he opened his hand. There lay a bright little gold key.

For a time he sat speechless.

"Presto," said he then, while the tears sprang to his eyes, "Presto, then it is true!"

Presto sprang up and tried, by barking, to make it clear to his master that he was hungry and wanted to go home.

To the house? Johannes had not thought of that, and cared little to return. But soon he heard different voices calling his name. Then he began to realize that his behavior would be considered neither kind nor courteous; and that, for a long time to come, there would be no friendly words in store for him.

For an instant, at the first trouble, his tears of joy were very nearly turned into those of fear and regret. But when he thought about Windekind, who now was his friend – his friend and confidant – of the elf-king's gift, and of the glorious, indisputable truth of all that had occurred, he took his way home, calm and prepared for anything.

But the meeting was more difficult than he expected. He had not fully anticipated the fear and distress of the household over his absence. He was urged to promise solemnly that he never again would be so naughty and imprudent.

"I cannot do so," said he, resolutely. They were surprised at that. He was interrogated, coaxed, threatened; but he thought of Windekind and remained stubborn. What could it matter if only he held Windekind's friendship – and what would he not be willing to suffer for Windekind's sake! He pressed the little key close to his breast, and shut his lips together, while he answered every question with a shrug of his shoulders. "I cannot promise," said he, again.

But his father said: "It is a serious matter with him – we will let him be, now. Something unusual must have happened. Sometime, he will tell us about it."

Johannes smiled, silently ate his bread and butter, and then slipped away to his little bedroom. There, he snipped oft a bit of the curtain cord, strung his precious key upon it, and hung it around his neck, on his bare breast. Then, comforted, he went to school.

It went very badly that day at school. He knew none of his lessons, and paid absolutely no attention. His thoughts flew continually to the pond, and to the marvelous happenings of the evening before. He could scarcely believe that a friend of the elf-king could again be obliged to figure sums, and conjugate verbs.

But it had all truly been, and not one of those around him knew anything about it. No one could believe or understand – not even the master – no matter how fierce he looked, nor how scornfully he called Johannes a lazy dog. He endured the angry comments with resignation and performed the tasks which his absent-mindedness brought upon him.

"They have not the least idea of it. They may rail at me as much as they please. I shall remain Windekind's friend, and Windekind is worth more to me than all of them put together; yes, master and all."

That was not respectful of Johannes. But after all the hard things he had heard about them the evening before, his esteem for his fellow-creatures had not been increased.

More than that, he was not sensible enough to put his wisdom to the best use; or, rather, to keep silent.

When his master stated that human beings only were gifted by God with reasoning powers, and were placed as rulers over all the other animals, he began to laugh. That cost him a bad mark, and a severe rebuke. And when his seat-mate read aloud from his exercise-book the following sentence: "The sun is very old – she is older than my cross old aunt," Johannes instantly cried out, "He is older!"

Everybody laughed at him, and the master, astonished at such amazing stupidity, as he called it, made Johannes remain after school to write out this sentence a hundred times: "The age of my aunt is very great, the age of the sun is greater; but the greatest thing of all is my amazing stupidity."

His schoolmates had all disappeared, and Johannes sat alone writing in the great school-room. The sun shone gaily in, lighting up a thousand motes on the way, and forming on the white-washed walls great splashes of light which, with the passing hours, crept slowly forward. The teacher had gone away, and shut the door behind him with a bang. Johannes was already on the fifty-second "age of my aunt," when a nimble little mouse, with silky ears, and little black beads of eyes, came out of the farthest corner of the room and ran without a sound along by the wall. Johannes kept as still as death, not to frighten away the pretty creature. It was not afraid, and came up close to where he was sitting. Then, peering round a moment with its bright keen little eyes, it sprang lightly up – one jump to the bench, the second to the desk on which Johannes was writing.

"Hey!" said he, half to himself, "but you are a plucky little mouse!"

"I do not know whom I should be afraid of," said a mite of a voice; and the mouse showed his little teeth as if he were laughing.

Johannes had already become used to many wonderful things, but this made him open his eyes wide. In the middle of the day, and in school! It was past all belief.

"You need not be afraid of me," said he, softly – for fear of startling the mouse. "Have you come from Windekind?"

"I came just to say to you that the teacher is quite right, and that you roundly deserved your punishment."

"But Windekind said that the sun was our father."

"Yes, but it was not necessary to let anybody else know it. What have human beings to do with it? You must never speak of such delicate matters to them – they are too coarse. A human being is an astonishingly cruel and clumsy creature, who would prefer to seize and trample to death whatever came within his reach. We mice have had experience of that."

"But, Mousie, why do you stay in this neighborhood? Why do you not go far away – to the woods?"

"Alas! we cannot do that now. We are too much accustomed to town food. Provided one is prudent and always takes care to avoid their traps and their heavy feet, it becomes possible to endure human beings. Fortunately, we still retain our nimbleness. The worst of it is that human beings help out their own clumsiness by covenanting with the cat. That is a great calamity, but in the woods there are owls and hawks, and we should all certainly perish there. Now, Johannes, remember my advice. There comes the teacher!"

"Mousie, Mousie! Do not go away! Ask Windekind what I must do with my key. I have hung it around my neck, on my bare breast. But Saturday I have to take a bath, and I am so afraid somebody will see it. Tell me, Mousie dear, where I can safely hide it."

"In the ground – always in the ground. Everything is safest there. Shall I take, and keep it?"

"No, not here, at school!"

"Bury it then, out in the dunes. I will tell my cousin, the field-mouse, that he must keep watch of it."

"Thank you, Mousie."

Tramp! tramp! The master was coming. In the time it took Johannes to dip his pen, the mouse had disappeared. The master himself, who was impatient to go home, excused Johannes from the forty-eight remaining lines.

For two long days Johannes lived in constant fear. He was closely watched, and no opportunity was allowed him for escaping to the dunes. Friday came, and he was still carrying around that precious key. The following evening he must take his weekly bath; the key would be discovered and taken away from him. He grew stiff with fear at the thought of it. He dared not hide it in the house – nor in the garden – no place seemed to him safe enough.

It was Friday afternoon and the twilight began to fall. Johannes sat before his bedroom window, looking wistfully out over the green shrubs of the garden to the distant dunes.

"Windekind, Windekind, help me!" he whispered, anxiously.

There was a gentle rustling of wings near him, then came the fragrance of lilies-of-the-valley, and suddenly he heard the sweet, familiar voice.

Windekind sat near him on the window-seat, making the little lily-bells swing on their slender stalk.

"At last! Have you come? I have longed for you so!" said Johannes.

"Come with me, Johannes; we will go and bury your key."

"I cannot," said Johannes, with a sigh.

But Windekind took him by the hand, and, light as the feathery seed of a dandelion, he was drifting away through the still evening air.

"Windekind," said Johannes as they went, "I think so much of you! I believe I would willingly give up every human being for you. Presto, even."

"And Simon?" said Windekind.

"Oh, it cannot make much difference to Simon whether I like him or not. He thinks such things childish, I believe. Simon cares only for the fishwoman; and not even for her, save when he is hungry. Do you believe, Windekind, that Simon is an ordinary cat?"

"No! He has been a human being."

Buz-z-z-z! Just then a big May-bug flew against Johannes.

"Cannot you look out for yourself better than that?" grumbled the May-bug. "H'm! You elfin baggage! You fly as if you owned all the air there was. You have learned that from the do-nothings who only just fly round and round for their own pleasure. One who always does his duty, like me – who always seeks food, and eats as hard as he can, is put out by such actions." And away he flew, buzzing loudly.

"Is he vexed because we are not eating anything?" asked Johannes.

"Yes, that is May-bug fashion. Among the May-bugs it is considered the highest duty to eat a great deal. Shall I tell you the story of a young May-bug?"

"Yes, do, Windekind."

"He was a fine, young May-bug who had only just crept out of the sod. What a surprise it was! For four long years he had been under the dark ground, waiting for the first warm evening. When he got his head up out of the clods and saw all that foliage, and the waving grass, and the singing birds, he was greatly perplexed. He did not know what to do. He touched the near-by grass blades all over with his feelers, thrusting them out in fan shape. From this he perceived, Johannes, that he was a male. He was very handsome in his way – with shining black legs, a plump, powdered after-part, and a breastplate that gleamed like a mirror. Happily, he soon discovered, not far away, another May-bug – not quite so handsome, but who had flown out a full day earlier and thus was of age. Quite modestly, because he was still so young, he hailed this other one.

"'What do you want, little friend?' said the second one condescendingly, observing that it was a novice: 'Do you want to inquire the way?'

"'No, but you see,' said the younger, politely, 'I do not know what I ought to be doing here. What does one do when he is a May-bug?'

"'Indeed,' said the other, 'do you not know that? Well, that is excusable. Once I did not know. Listen, and I will tell you. The chief concern of a May-bug's life is to eat. Not far from this is a delicious linden hedge that was put there for us to eat from as busily as possible.'

"'Who planted the linden hedge there?' asked the young beetle.

"'Well, a great creature who means well by us. Every morning he comes along the hedge, picks out those that have eaten the most, and takes them with him to a splendid house where a bright light shines, and where all the May-bugs are very happy together. But those who keep flying about the whole night instead of eating are caught by the bat.'

"'Who is that?' asked the novice.

"'A fearful monster with sharp teeth, that all of a sudden comes flying after us, and crunches us up with a horrible crack.' As the beetle said this, they heard above them a shrill squeaking which pierced through to the marrow. 'Hey! There he is!' exclaimed the older one. 'Look out for him, my young friend. Be thankful that I have warned you in good time. You have a long night before you – make the best of it. The less you eat the greater the chance of your being devoured by the bat. Only those who choose a serious calling in life can enter the great house with the bright light. Bear that in mind! A serious calling!'

"Then the beetle, who was a whole day the older, scrabbled away among the blades of grass, leaving the other behind, greatly impressed. Do you understand what a calling is, Johannes? No? Well, neither did the young beetle know. It had something to do with eating, he knew, but how was he to get to the linden hedge?