"A violin? Could I make a violin, and then play on it?"
"Just try it," said Wistik.
Behold! There was the violin—all ready for him. Johannes took it, and passed the bow over the strings as if he had handled it all his life. The most glorious music came from it—as fine as any he had ever heard.
"Oh, Wistik! Do you hear? Who would ever have thought that I could make such music!"
"'Vraagal can do all that Vraagal wills,' said Pan."
"Yes," said Johannes, musing an instant, and forgetting his violin, which forthwith vanished. "Pan also spoke of the real Devil, you remember. He said that I must ask you to show him to me."
Wistik had drawn up his little knees and placed his arms about them, his long beard hanging down in front to his shins. Sitting thus, he threw a sidelong glance at Johannes, to see if he intended to do it. Then his entire little body began to tremble. "Shall we not take a little fly out over the ocean?" he asked.
But Johannes was not to be diverted.
"No, I want to see the real Devil."
"Are you sure, Johannes?"