"What did I tell you?" said Wistik, rubbing his little legs in his satisfaction. "Yes, human beings rank first in nature,—altogether first. But until now we have had to do with the wrong ones—the trash, Johannes—the refuse. The right ones are not so bad. I have always told you that."
Johannes did not remember about it, but would not contradict his friend. He only hoped that those dear and charming people would come to him, recognize him as their comrade, and receive him as one of them. That would make him very happy; he would love the people truly, and be proud of his human nature.
But the splendid train drew near, and passed on, without his having been observed by any one; and Johannes also heard them singing in a strange, unintelligible language.
"May I not speak to them?" he asked, anxiously. "Would they understand me?"
"Indeed, no!" said Wistik, indignantly. "What are you thinking about? This is not a fairy tale nor a dream. This is real—altogether real."
"Then shall I have to go hack again to Aunt Seréna, and Daatje, and the dominie?"
"Yes, to be sure!" said Wistik, in confusion.
"And the little key, and the book, and Windekind?"
"We can still be seeking them."
"That is always the way with you!" said Johannes, bitterly. "You promise something wonderful, and the end is always a disappointment."