"That is a decayed tree-trunk," said Windekind. Then they went up to a bright little light, which was burning steadily.
"Now I will introduce you to Wistik.[1] He is the oldest and wisest of the goblins."
Having come up closer, Johannes saw him sitting beside his little candle. By the blue light of this, one could plainly distinguish the wrinkled, grey-bearded face. He was reading aloud, and his eyebrows were knit. On his head he wore a little acorn cap with a tiny feather in it. Before him sat a spider—listening to the reading.
Without lifting his head, the goblin glanced up from the book as the two approached, and raised his eyebrows. The spider crept away. "Good evening," said the goblin. "I am Wistik. Who are you?"
"My name is Johannes. I am very happy to make your acquaintance. What are you reading?"
"This is not intended for your ears," said Wistik. "It is only for spiders."
"Let me have just a peep at it, dear Wistik!" said Johannes.
"I must not. It is the Sacred Book of the spiders. It is in my keeping, and I must never let it out of my hands. I have the Sacred Book of the beetles and the butterflies and the hedgehogs and the moles, and of everything that lives here. They cannot all read, and when they wish to know anything, I read it aloud to them. That is a great honor for me—a position of trust, you know."
The mannikin nodded very seriously a couple of times, and raised a tiny forefinger.
"What were you reading just now?"