Demian (Rediscovered Books). Герман Гессе
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me and now he drew me very close to himself, so that I was forced to look directly into his face. His eyes were malicious, he had a nasty smile, and his face was full of cruelty and power.
“Yes, boy, I’m the one who can tell you who owns the orchard. I’ve known for some time that the apples were stolen, and I also know that the man said he’d give two marks to whoever could tell him who stole the fruit.”
“My God!” I exclaimed. “But you won’t tell him anything, will you?”
I felt that it would be useless to appeal to his sense of honor. He came from that other world, for him backstabbing was no crime. I was completely convinced of that. In matters like this, the people from the “other” world weren’t like us.
“Not tell him anything?” Kromer laughed. “My dear friend, do you think I’m a counterfeiter and can make my own two-mark pieces? I’m a poor guy, I don’t have a rich father like you, and whenever I can earn two marks, I’ve got to earn them. Maybe he’ll even give more.”
He suddenly let go of me again. Our vestibule no longer smelt of peace and security, the world was tumbling down around me. He was going to turn me in, I was a criminal, my father would be informed, maybe the police would actually come. All the terrors of chaos threatened me, everything ugly and dangerous was mustered up against me. That I hadn’t really stolen anything was completely beside the point. On top of that, I had sworn an oath. My God, my God!
Tears welled up in my eyes. I felt that I had to buy myself off, and I rummaged desperately through all my pockets. There was nothing in them, not an apple, not a pocket knife. Then I remembered my watch. It was an old silver watch, and it didn’t go; I wore it “just for the sake of it.” It came from our grandmother. I quickly pulled it out.
“Kromer,” I said, “listen, you mustn’t turn me in, that wouldn’t be nice of you. I’ll give you my watch, look; unfortunately, I have nothing else. You can have it, it’s silver, and the works are good; it just has a minor defect, it has to be repaired.”
He smiled and took the watch into his large hand. I looked at that hand and felt how rough and deeply hostile it was to me, how it was reaching out for my life and my peace of mind.
“It’s silver—” I said timidly.
“I don’t give a hoot for your silver or that old watch of yours!” he said with profound contempt. “Get it repaired yourself!”
“But, Franz,” I exclaimed, trembling with the fear that he might run away. “Please wait a minute! Do take the watch! It’s real silver, really and truly. And I just don’t have anything else.”
He looked at me with cool contempt.
“In that case, you know who I’m going to see. Or I can also tell the police about it; I’m well acquainted with the sergeant.”
He turned around to leave. I held him back by the sleeve. It mustn’t be! I would much rather have died than bear all that would ensue if he left like that.
“Franz,” I pleaded, hoarse with agitation, “don’t do anything silly! It’s just a joke, right?”
“Yes, a joke, but one that can cost you dear.”
“Then, Franz, tell me what I should do! You know I’ll do anything!”
He surveyed me with his half-shut eyes and laughed again.
“Don’t be stupid!” he said with false bonhomie. “You know what’s what just the same as I do. I can earn two marks, and I’m not so rich that I can throw them away, you know it. But you’re rich, you even have a watch. All you need to do is give me the two marks, and that will be that.”
I understood his logic. But two marks! For me it was as much, and just as impossible to get, as ten, a hundred, a thousand marks. I had no money. There was a little money-savings box in my mother’s room that contained a few ten-pfennig and five-pfennig coins from uncles’ visits and similar occasions. Otherwise I had nothing. At that age I wasn’t yet receiving any allowance.
“I have nothing,” I said sadly. “I have no money at all. But, aside from that, I’ll give you anything. I have a book about Indians, and soldiers, and a compass. I’ll get it for you.”
Kromer merely twitched his brazen, malicious lips and spat on the floor.
“Don’t babble!” he said imperiously. “You can keep your junk. A compass! Don’t make me angry now, too, all right? And hand over the money!”
“But I don’t have any, I never get money. I just can’t help it!”
“Well, then, you’ll bring me the two marks tomorrow. After school I’ll be waiting down in the Market. And that’s that. If you don’t bring money, you’ll see!”
“Yes, but where am I to get it? My God, if I don’t have any—”
“You’ve got money enough in the house. That’s your affair. So then, tomorrow after school. And I’m telling you: if you don’t bring it—” He darted a frightening look into my eyes, spat again, and disappeared like a ghost.
**
I was unable to go upstairs. My life was wrecked. I thought about running away and never coming back, or drowning myself. But I had no clear images of that. In the darkness I sat down on the lowest step of the staircase, withdrew deeply into myself, and surrendered myself to my misfortune. Lina found me crying there when she came downstairs with a basket to fetch wood.
I asked her not to say anything upstairs, and I went up. On the rack beside the glass door hung my father’s hat and my mother’s parasol; domesticity and tenderness radiated to me from all those objects, my heart greeted them beseechingly and gratefully, just as the prodigal son greeted the sight and smell of the old rooms in his home. But now all of that was no longer mine, it was all part of the bright world of my father and mother, and I had sunk, guilt-laden, deep into the strange waters, entangled in intrigue and sin, threatened by my enemy and a prey to perils, anxiety, and shame. The hat and parasol, the good old freestone floor, the big picture over the vestibule closet, and the voice of my older sister coming from the parlor, all that was dearer, more gentle and precious than ever, but it no longer spelled consolation and solid possession, it was nothing but reproach. All that was no longer mine, I couldn’t participate in its serenity and tranquillity. There was dirt on my shoes that I couldn’t scrape off on the mat, I carried shadows along with me that were unknown to the world of my home. I had had plenty of secrets in the past, and plenty of anxiety, but that was all a game and a joke in comparison with what I was carrying with me into these rooms today. Fate was hounding me, hands were reaching out at me from which my mother couldn’t protect me, of which she shouldn’t even learn. Whether my crime was a theft or a lie (hadn’t I sworn a false oath by God and my salvation?) didn’t matter. My sin wasn’t any particular action, my sin was having given my hand to the Devil. Why had I gone along? Why had I obeyed Kromer, more readily than I had ever obeyed my father? Why had I concocted that story about stealing? Why had I boasted about crimes as though they were heroic deeds? Now the Devil had me by the hand, now my enemy was after me.
For a moment, what I felt was no longer fear about the next day, but above all the terrible certainty that my path now led farther and farther downhill and into darkness. I perceived distinctly that my transgression must necessarily be followed by new transgressions, that rejoining my sisters, greeting and kissing my parents, was a lie, that I was carrying a destiny and secret with me that I was concealing within me.
For a moment, trust and hope blazed up in me, when I contemplated my father’s hat. I would tell him everything, I would accept his sentence and his punishment and make him my confidant and rescuer. It would only be a penance of the sort I had often undergone, a difficult, bitter hour, a difficult and repentant request for forgiveness.
What a sweet sound that had! How appealing and tempting it was! But nothing came of it. I knew I wouldn’t do it. I knew that now I had a secret, a guilt that I had to swallow on my own, all by myself. Perhaps I