“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?”