It! You know well, do you not, what it was? It—the same that sat by the pool when that poor young girl was drowned—It was sitting behind him, huge and deathly still. Sunlight, sea, and rocks—the whole beautiful land, grew hazy and vague.
"He is here," whispered Wistik, "behind us. Bear up, Johannes! You yourself wanted it."
"What shall I do?" asked Johannes, now very nervous and terrified.
"Do not be afraid! For God's sake, do not be afraid! If you do you are lost."
"Shall I cry to God, or to Jesus? Or cross myself?"
"He cares not a bit for such things; he laughs at them; he knows all about them. He makes fun of prayers and the sign of the cross. The main thing is to keep on the alert, and not to be afraid. He will be very friendly, and show you all kinds of pretty and interesting sights, and he will try to make you sleepy and afraid. But you must not fear and must not forget. Above all, keep fast hold of Marjon's flower. And here ... look!"
With his nervously trembling little fingers Wistik fumbled in the small satchel that always hung by a strap over his shoulder, and took from the jumbled lot of pebbles, scissors, lead-pencils, and dried plants, a little mirror on the frame of which his name was neatly engraved. Then in a voice shaken and nearly speechless with emotion, he said: "Hold that good and fast! It is your salvation. Go now, dear boy. Go!"
And the good little fellow wept.
"Are you not going with me?" asked Johannes, in agitation.
"I am his greatest enemy," said Wistik; "he cannot endure the sight of me. But I will stay in the neighborhood. Call me once in a while, and I will answer you. Then you will know that you are safe...."