Demian
mind-reading. There’s no witchcraft in it, but it seems very peculiar
if one doesn’t know how to do it. You can surprise people very much
with it. Well, let us try it. I like you, or I interest myself in
you, and I would like to find out what your real feelings are. I have
already made the first step towards doing that. I have frightened
you--you are, then, easily frightened. There are things and people of
which and of whom you are afraid. Why is it? One need be afraid of no
one. If you fear somebody then it is due to the fact that he has power
over you. For example, you have done something wrong, and the other
person knows it--then he has power over you. D’you get me? It’s clear,
isn’t it?”
I looked helplessly into his face, which was serious and prudent as
always, and kind as well, but without any tenderness--his features were
rather severe. Righteousness or something akin lay therein. I was not
conscious of what was happening; he stood like a magician before me.
“Have you understood?” he questioned again.
I nodded. I could not speak.
“I told you mind-reading looked rather strange, but the process is
quite natural. I could for example tell you more or less exactly what
you thought about me when I once told you the story of Cain and Abel.
But that has nothing to do with the matter in hand. I also think it
possible that you have dreamed of me. But let’s leave that out! You’re
a clever kid, most of ’em are so stupid. I like talking now and then
with a clever fellow whom I can trust. You have no objections, have
you?”
“Oh, no! Only I don’t understand.”
“Let’s keep to our old experiment! We have found that: the boy S. is
easily frightened--he is afraid of somebody--he apparently shares a
secret with this other person, which causes him much disquietude. Is
that about right?”
As in a dream I lay under the influence of his voice, of his
personality. I only nodded. Was not a voice talking there, which could
only come from myself? Which knew all? Which knew all in a better,
clearer way than I myself?
Demian gave me a powerful slap on the shoulder.
“That’s right then. I thought so. Now just one question more: Do you
know the name of the boy who has just gone away?”
I sank back, he had the key to my secret, this secret which twisted
back inside me as if it did not want to see the light.
“What sort of a fellow? There was no one there, except myself.”
He laughed.
“Don’t be afraid to tell me,” said he laughingly. “What’s his name?”
I whispered: “Do you mean Frank Kromer?”
He nodded contentedly.
“Bravo! You’re a smart chap, we shall be good friends yet. But now I
must tell you something else: this Kromer, or whatever his name is, is
a nasty fellow. His face tells me he’s a rascal! What do you think?”
“Oh yes,” I sobbed out, “he is nasty, he’s a devil! But he mustn’t know
anything! For God’s sake, he mustn’t know anything. D’you know him?
Does he know you?”
“Don’t worry! He’s gone, and he doesn’t know me--not yet. But I should
like to make his acquaintance. He goes to the public school?”
“Yes.”
“In which standard?”
“In the fifth. But don’t say anything to him! Please, don’t say
anything to him!”
“Don’t worry, nothing will happen to you. I suppose you wouldn’t like
to tell me a little more about this fellow Kromer?”
“I can’t! No, let me go!”
He was silent for a while.
“It’s a pity,” he said, “we might have been able to carry the
experiment still further. But I don’t want to bother you. You know,
don’t you, that it is not right of you to be afraid of him? Such fear
quite undermines us, you must get rid of it. You must get rid of it, if
you want to become a real man. D’you understand?”
“Certainly, you are quite right ... but it won’t do. You don’t know....”
“You have seen that I know a lot, more than you thought. Do you owe him
any money?”
“Yes, I do, but that isn’t the essential point. I can’t tell, I can’t!”
“It won’t help matters, then, if I give you the amount you owe him? I
could very well let you have it.”
“No, no, that is not the point. And please: don’t say anything to
anybody! Not a word! You are making me miserable!”
“Rely on me, Sinclair. Later you can share your secrets with me.”
“Never, never!” I exclaimed vehemently.
“Just as you please. I only mean, perhaps you will tell me something
more later on. Only of your own free will, you understand. Surely you
don’t think I shall act like Kromer?”
“Oh no--but you don’t even know anything about it!”
“Absolutely nothing. But I think about it. And I shall never act like
Kromer, believe me. Besides, you don’t owe me anything.”
We remained a long time silent, and I became more tranquil. But
Demian’s knowledge became more and more of a puzzle to me.
“I’m going home now,” he said, and in the rain he drew his coat more
closely about him. “I should only like to repeat one thing to you,
since we have gone so far in the matter--you ought to get rid of this
fellow! If there is nothing else to be done, then kill him! It would
impress me and please me, if you were to do that. Besides, I would help
you.”
I was again terrified. I suddenly remembered the story of Cain. I had
an uncanny feeling and I began to cry softly. So much that was weird
seemed to surround me.
“All right,” Max Demian said, smilingly. “Go home now! We will put
things square, although murder would have been the simplest. In such
matters the simplest way is always the best. You aren’t in good hands,
with your friend Kromer.”
I came home, and it seemed to me as if I had been away a year.
Everything looked different. Between myself and Kromer there now stood
something like future freedom, something like hope. I was lonely no
longer! And then I realized for the first time how terribly lonely I
had been for weeks and weeks. And I immediately recollected what I had
on several occasions turned over in my mind: that a confession to my
parents would afford me relief and yet would not quite liberate me. Now
I had almost confessed, to another, to a stranger, and as if a strong
perfume had been wafted to me, sensed the presentiment of salvation!
Still my fear was far from being overcome, and I was still prepared for
long and terrible mental wrestlings with my evil genius. So it was all
the more remarkable to me that everything passed off so very secretly
and quietly.
Kromer’s whistle remained absent from our house for a day, two days,
three days, a whole week. I dared not believe my senses, and lay
inwardly on the watch, to see whether he would not suddenly stand
before me, just at that moment when I should expect him no longer. But
he was, and remained, away! Distrustful of my new freedom, I still
could not bring myself to believe in it whole-heartedly. Until at
last I met Frank Kromer. He was coming down the street, straight in
my direction. When he saw me, he drew himself together, twisted his
features in a brutal grimace, and turned away without more ado, in
order to avoid meeting me.
That was a wonderful moment for me! My enemy ran away from me! My devil
was afraid of me! Surprise and joy shook me through and through!
In a few days Demian showed himself once again. He waited for me
outside school.
“Hullo,” I said.
“Good morning, Sinclair. I only wanted to hear how you’re getting on.
Kromer leaves you in peace, doesn’t he?”
“Did you manage that? But how did you do it? How? I don’t understand
it. He hasn’t come near me.”
“Splendid. If he should come again--I don’t think he will, but he’s a
cheeky fellow--then simply tell him to remember Demian.”
“But what does it all mean? Have you had a fight with him and thrashed
him?”
“No, I’m not so keen on that. I simply talked to him, as I did to you,
and I made it clear to him that it is to his own advantage to leave you
in peace.”
“Oh, but you haven’t given him any money?”
“No, kid. You have already tried that way yourself.”
I attempted to pump him on the matter, but he disengaged himself. The
old, embarrassed feeling concerning him came over me--an odd mixture of
gratitude and shyness, of admiration and fear, of affection and inward
resistance.
I had the intention of seeing him again soon, and then I wanted to talk
more about everything, about the Cain affair as well. But I did not see
him. Gratitude is not one of the virtues in which I believe, and to
require it of a child would seem to me wrong. So I do not wonder very
much at the complete ingratitude which I evinced towards Max Demian.
To-day I believe positively that I should have been ruined for life if
he had not freed me from Kromer’s clutches. At that time also I already
felt this release as the greatest event of my young life--but I left
the deliverer on one side as soon as he had accomplished the miracle.
As I have said, ingratitude seems to me nothing strange. Solely, the
lack of curiosity I evinced is odd. How was it possible that I could
continue for a single day my quiet mode of life without coming nearer
to the secrets with which Demian had brought me in contact? How could
I restrain the desire to hear more about Cain, more about Kromer, more
about the thought-reading?
It is scarcely comprehensible, and yet it is so. I suddenly saw myself
extricated from the demoniacal toils, saw again the world lying
bright and cheerful before me. I was no longer subject to paroxysms
of fear. The curse was broken, I was no longer a tormented and
condemned creature, I was a schoolboy again. My temperament sought
to regain its equilibrium and tranquillity as quickly as possible,
and so I took pains above all things to put behind me all that had
been ugly and menacing, and to forget it. The whole, long story of my
guilt, of my terrifying anxiety, slipped from my memory wonderfully
quick, apparently without having left behind any scars or impressions
whatsoever.
The fact that I likewise tried as quickly to forget my helper and
deliverer, I understand to-day as well. Instinctively my mind turned
from the damning recollection of my awful servitude under Kromer, and
I sought to recover my former happy, contented mental outlook, to
regain that lost paradise which opened once more to me, the bright
father-and-mother world, where my sisters dwelt in the fragrant
atmosphere of purity, in loving kindness such as God had extended to
Abel.
On the very next day after my short conversation with Demian, when I
was at last fully convinced of my newly-born freedom and feared no
longer a relapse to my condition of slavery, I did what I had so often
and so ardently desired to do--I confessed. I went to mother and showed
her the little savings box with the broken lock, filled with toy mark
pieces instead of with real money, and I told her how long I had been
in the thrall of an evil tormentor, through my own guilt. She did not
understand everything, but she saw the money box, she saw my altered
look and heard my changed voice--she felt that I was healed, that I had
been restored to her.
And then with lofty feelings I celebrated my readmission into the
family, the prodigal son’s return home. Mother took me to father, the
story was repeated, questions and exclamations of wonder followed in
quick succession, both parents stroked my hair and breathed deeply, as
in relief from a long oppression. It was all lovely, like the stories
I had read, all discords were resolved in a happy ending.
I surrendered myself passionately to this harmonious state of affairs.
I could not have enough of the idea that I was again free and trusted
by my parents. I was a model boy at home and played more frequently
than ever with my sisters. At prayers I sang the dear, old hymns with
the blissful feeling of one converted and redeemed. It came straight
from my heart, it was no lie this time.