'Now I have come to keep you company. Your life is too dull. We shall be good friends, and I will tell you a great many things—much better things than the schoolmaster teaches you. He knows nothing about them. And if you do not believe me I will let you see and hear for yourself. I will take you with me.'
'Oh, Windekind! Dear Windekind! Can you take me with you out there?' cried Johannes, pointing to the spot where the purple rays of the vanished sun had streamed out of the golden gate of clouds. The glorious structure was already fading into grey mist, but the rosy light still could be seen in the farthest depths.
Windekind looked at the glow, which tinged his delicate face and fair hair, and he gently shook his head.
'Not now, not now. You must not ask too much at once, Johannes. I myself have never been to my father's home.'
'I am always at my father's,' said Johannes. 'No; he is not your father. We are brothers. My father is your father too. But the earth is your mother and so we are very different. And you were born in a house among men, and I in a bindweed flower; and that is much better. But we shall get on very well together nevertheless.'
Then Windekind sprang lightly into the boat, which did not rock under his weight, and kissed Johannes on the forehead.
What a strange change then came over Johannes! Everything about him seemed different. He saw everything better and more clearly, as he fancied. He saw the moon look down with a kinder glance, and he saw that the water-lilies had faces, and gazed at him in pensive amazement. He now suddenly understood why the gnats danced so merrily up and down, and round and round each other, touching the water with the tips of their long legs. He had often wondered and thought about it, but now he understood it at once.
He heard too what the reeds whispered to the trees on the bank, softly complaining that the sun had gone down.
'Oh! Windekind, thank you, this is glorious. Yes; we shall be very happy together!'
'Give me your hand,' said Windekind, spreading his many-coloured wings. Then he drew Johannes in the boat over the pool through the splashing leaves which glistened in the moonlight. Here and there a frog was sitting on a leaf; but he did not now leap into the water when Johannes came by. He only made a little bow and said, 'Quaak.' Johannes politely bowed in return; above all, he would not seem ill-bred.