And another voice sounded suddenly, close beside him: "Well, Robbi, a pretty little playmate you have there!"
What did all this mean? The deep wrinkles came again above the child's dark eyes, and Johannes looked around in perplexity.
A man in black clothes sat near—looking at him with cold, grey eyes.
"And so you wish to make acquaintance with the Book of Books! It amazes me that your father, whom I know to be a devout man, has not already given it to you."
"You do not know my father—he is far away."
"Is that so? Well, it is all the same. Look here, my young friend! Read a great deal in this. Upon your path in life it will...."
But Johannes had already recognized the book. It could not possibly come to him in this way! No! he could not have it so. He shook his head.
"No, no! This is not what I mean. This I know. This is not it."
He heard sounds of surprise, and felt the looks which were fastened on him from all sides. "What! What do you mean, child?"
"I know this book; it is the Book of Human Beings. But there is not enough in it; if there were there would be rest among men—and peace. And there is none. I mean something else about which no one can doubt who sees it—wherein is told why everything is as it is—precisely and plainly."