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.