And while he panted and struggled, the dead body lay stretched out motionless, just as it was lying when the silence fell; the white of the eyes visible through a narrow opening, the corners of the mouth curled to a ghastly smile. Only as the two knocked against the bed in their wrestling, the head gently moved a little.
Still Johannes held his own. His breath came hard and he could not see; a blood-red mist was before his eyes—and still he stood firm.
Then gradually the resistance of those wrists grew weaker in his grasp, his muscles relaxed, his arms fell limp by his sides and his clenched hands were empty.
When he looked up Pluizer had vanished. Death sat alone by the bed and nodded to him.
'That was well done, Johannes,' said he.
'Will he come back again?' whispered Johannes. Death shook his head.
'Never. Those who have once defied him, never see him again.'
'And Windekind? Shall I ever see Windekind again?'
The gloomy man gazed long at Johannes. His look was no longer terrible, but gentle and grave. It seemed to allure Johannes like some great deep.
'I alone can take you to Windekind. Through me alone can you find the Book.'