When night fell, and hundreds of lamps flickered in the wind—casting long, wavering lights over the black water, they passed through the silent streets. The tall old houses looked tired—as if leaning against one another in sleep. Most of them had closed their eyes; but here and there a window still sent out a faint, yellow glimmer.
Pluizer told Johannes long stories about those who dwelt behind them—of the pains that were there endured, and of the struggles that took place there between misery and love of life. He did not spare him, but selected the gloomiest, the lowest, and most trying; and grinned with enjoyment when Johannes grew pale and silent at his shocking tales.
"Pluizer," asked Johannes, suddenly, "do you know anything about the Great Light?"
He thought that that question might save him from the darkness which was pressing closer and heavier upon him.
"Chatter! Windekind's chatter!" said Pluizer. "Phantoms—illusions! There are only people—and myself. Do you fancy that any kind of god could take pleasure in anything on this earth—such a medley as there is here to be ruled over? Moreover, such a Great Light would not leave so many here—in the darkness."
"But those stars! Those stars!" cried Johannes; as if expecting that visible splendor to protest for him against this statement.
"The stars! Do you know, little fellow, what you are chattering about? Those lights up there are not like the lanterns you see about you here. They are all worlds—every one of them much larger than this world with its thousands of cities—and in the midst of them we swing like a speck of dust. There is no above nor below. There are worlds on all sides of us—nothing but worlds, and there is no end to them."
"No, no!" cried Johannes in terror, "do not say so! I see little lights on a great, dark plain above me."
"Yes, you can see nothing but little lights. If you gazed up all your life, you would see nothing else than little lights upon a dark plain above you. But you can, you must know that the universe—in the midst of which this little clod with its pitiful swarm of dotards is as nothing—shall vanish into nothingness. So speak no more of 'the stars' as if they were but a few dozens. It is foolishness."
Johannes was silenced.