Look, it’s snowing! Oh, I must go out! Amsterdam asleep in the white night, the dark jade canals under the little snow-covered bridges, the empty streets, my muted steps – there will be purity, even if fleeting, before tomorrow’s mud. See the huge flakes drifting against the windowpanes. It must be the doves, surely. They finally make up their minds to come down, the little dears; they are covering the waters and the roofs with a thick layer of feathers; they are fluttering at every window. What an invasion! Let’s hope they are bringing good news. Everyone will be saved, eh? – and not only the elect. Possessions and hardships will be shared and you, for example, from today on you will sleep every night on the ground for me. The whole shooting match, eh? Come now, admit that you would be flabbergasted if a chariot came down from heaven to carry me off, or if the snow suddenly caught fire. You don’t believe it? Nor do I. But still I must go out (6.26-7).
Again, this is great evidence to support the theory that Jean-Baptiste is embracing a false and faulty solution. He claims to have abandoned innocence, but he still yearns for it. Remember, the doves have a lot to do with innocence and the Holy Ghost (see Symbols, Imagery, Allegory), so if Jean-Baptiste is all excited at the thought of the Holy Ghost coming to earth (i.e., divine intervention), then he can’t truly have embraced his "let’s just ditch innocence" theory. The fact that, as he says, he "doesn’t believe it" signifies the tragedy of his situation; he’s optimistic enough to hope for something better, but too cynical to believe it will ever happen.