Little Johannes. Frederik van Eeden

feminine, Johannes shouted out loudly, correcting him: 'Masculine, masculine!'

      Every one laughed excepting the master, who was amazed at such utter stupidity as he thought it, and he desired Johannes to remain in school and write out a hundred times: 'The age of my wilful aunt is great, but not so great as that of the Sun (feminine), and greater still is my arrogant stupidity.'

      His school-fellows had departed, and Johannes sat alone writing, in the great empty school-room. The sun shone in brightly, making the dust-motes glitter in its beams, and painting the wall with patches of light which crept round as time went on. The master, too, was gone, slamming the door behind him. Johannes had just got to the fifty-second 'wilful aunt' when a tiny, brisk mouse, with black, beady little eyes and erect ears, came out of the farthest corner of the room and ran noiselessly along by the wall. Johannes kept as still as death, not to scare the pretty little thing; but it was not shy and came close to where he was sitting. It looked sharply about for a minute or two, with its small, bright eyes; then with one spring leaped on to the bench, and with a second on to the desk on which Johannes was writing.

      'Well done!' said he half to himself, 'you are a very bold little mouse.'

      'I ought to know whom I should be afraid of,' said a wee-wee voice, and the mouse showed his little white teeth as if he were laughing.

      Johannes was by this time quite used to marvels; still, this made him open his eyes very wide. Here, in school, in the middle of the day – it was incredible.

      'You need not be afraid of me,' said he, very gently for fear of frightening the mouse. 'Did Windekind send you?'

      'I am sent to tell you that the master was quite right, and that you thoroughly deserved your extra task.'

      'But it was Windekind who told me that the sun was masculine. He said he was his father.'

      'Yes; but no one else need know it. What have men to do with that? You must never discuss such delicate matters with men; they are too gross to understand them. Man is an astonishingly perverse and stupid creature that only cares to catch or kill whatever comes within his reach. Of that we mice have ample experience.'

      'But why then, little mouse, do you live among men? Why do you not run away to the woods?'

      'Oh, that we cannot do now. We are too much accustomed to town living. And so long as we are prudent, and always take care to avoid their traps and their heavy feet, we get on very well among men. Fortunately we are very nimble. The worst of it is, that man ekes out his own slowness by an alliance with the cat; that is a great grievance. But in the woods there are owls and hawks, and we should all be starved. Now, Johannes, mind my advice – here comes the master.'

      'Mouse, mouse; do not go away. Ask Windekind what I am to do with my little key. I have tied it round my neck, next my skin. But on Saturday I am tubbed, and I am so afraid that it will be found. Tell me, where can I hide it?'

      'Underground, always underground, that is always safest. Shall I keep it for you?'

      'No, not here in school.'

      'Then bury it out in the sand-hills. I will tell my cousin the field-mouse that he must take care of it.'

      'Thank you, little mouse.'

      Tramp, tramp! In came the master. While Johannes was dipping his pen the mouse had vanished. The master, who wanted to go home, let Johannes off the other forty-eight lines.

      For two days Johannes lived in constant dread. He was kept strictly within sight, and had no opportunity of slipping off to the sand-hills. It was already Friday, and still the precious key was about his neck. The following evening he would inevitably be stripped; the key would be discovered and taken from him – his blood turned cold at the thought. He dared not hide it in the house or garden – no place seemed to him safe enough.

      Friday afternoon, and dusk was creeping down! Johannes sat at his bedroom window, gazing with longing at the distance, over the green shrubs in the garden to the downs beyond.

      'Windekind, Windekind, help me!' he whispered anxiously.

      He heard a soft rustling of wings close at hand, he smelt the scent of lilies of the valley, and suddenly heard the sweet, well-known voice. Windekind sat by him on the window-sill, waving the bells of a lily of the valley on their slender stems.

      'Here you are at last!' cried Johannes; 'I have longed for you so much!'

      'Come with me, Johannes, we will bury your little key.'

      'I cannot,' said Johannes sadly.

      But Windekind took him by the hand and he felt himself wafted through the still evening air, as light as the wind-blown down of a dandelion.

      'Windekind,' said Johannes, as they floated on, 'I love you so dearly. I believe I would give all the people in the world for you, and Presto into the bargain.'

      'And Simon?'

      'Oh, Simon does not care whether I love him or not. I believe he thinks it too childish. Simon loves no one but the fish-woman, and that only when he is hungry. Do you think that Simon is a common cat, Windekind?'

      1

      Part of what follows I have already stated in a reprint of Perrault's Popular Tales, Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1888.

      2

      In forty-one volumes, Paris, 1785-89.

      3

      There are complete English translations of the eighteenth century

1

Part of what follows I have already stated in a reprint of Perrault's Popular Tales, Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1888.

2

In forty-one volumes, Paris, 1785-89.

3

There are complete English translations of the eighteenth century. Many of the stories have been retold by Miss M. Wright, in the Red and Blue Fairy Books.

4

I am unacquainted with the date of composition of this story about a Ring more potent than that of Gyges. (It is printed in the second volume of Dialogues des Morts Paris, 1718).

5

From one of these tales by Caylus the author, who but recently made their acquaintance, finds that he has unconsciously plagiarised an adventure of Prince Prigio's.

6

The child of the bindweed.