It was now winter, but he scarcely observed it.
One chill and misty morning, when the snow lay wet and dirty on the roads, and fell from the trees and roofs, he went with Pluizer for his daily walk. In a public garden he met a party of young girls, in a row, and carrying school-books. They pelted each other with snow, and laughed and gambolled; their voices rang out clearly over the snowy plain. There was no sound of feet or wheels to be heard; nothing but the tinkling bells of the horses, or the latch of a shop door. Their merry laughter sounded distinctly through the silence.
Johannes noted that one of these damsels looked at him and stared back after him. She wore a coloured cloak and a black hat. He knew her face very well, but he could not think who she was. She nodded to him once and again.
'Who is that? I know her.'
'Yes, very likely. Her name is Maria, some persons call her Robinetta.'
'No, that cannot be. She is not like Windekind. She is a girl like any other.'
'Ha, ha, hah! She cannot be like Nobody. But she is what she is. You have longed to see her so much; now I will take you to see her!'
'No, I do not want to see her. I would rather see her dead like the others.'
And Johannes would not look round again, but hurried on, murmuring: 'This is the last! There is nothing—nothing!'