Demian : The Story of Emil Sinclair's Youth is a Bildungsroman by Hermann Hesse

Two Realms (3)

The people from the other world were not like us in these matters. "Not say anything?" laughed Kromer. "Kid, what do you take me for? Do you think I own a mint? I'm poor, I don't have a wealthy father like you and if I can earn two marks I earn them any way I can. Maybe he'll even give me more. " Suddenly he let go of me.

The passageway no longer smelled of peace and safety, the world around me began to crumble. He would give me away to the police! I was a criminal; my father would be informed--perhaps even the police would come. All the dread of chaos threatened me, everything ugly and dangerous was united against me. It meant nothing that I'd filched nothing. I'd sworn I had! Tears welled up in my eyes. I felt I had to strike a bargain and desperately I groped through all my pockets. Not a single apple, no pocket knife, I had nothing at all. I thought of my watch, an old silver watch that didn't work, that I wore just for the fun of it. It had been my grandmother's. Quickly I took it off.

 I said: "Kromer, listen! Don't give me away. It wouldn't be fair if you did. I'll give you my watch as a present, here, take a look. Otherwise I've nothing at all. You can have it, it's made of silver, and the works, well, there's something slightly wrong with them; you have to have it fixed. "

He smiled and weighed the watch in his palm. I looked at his hand and felt how brutal and deeply hostile it was to me, how it reached for my life and peace. "It's made of silver, " I said hesitantly. 

"I don't give a damn for your silver and your old watch, " he said scornfully.  "Get it fixed yourself. "

 "But, Franz!" I exclaimed, trembling with fear that he might run away. "Wait, wait a moment. Why don't you take it? It's really made of silver, honest. And I don't have anything else. " 

He threw me a cold scornful look. "Well, you know who I'll go to. Or I could go to the police too... I'm on good terms with the sergeant. " He turned as if to go. 

I held on to his sleeve. I couldn't allow him to go. I would rather have died than suffer what might happen if he went off like that. "Franz, " I implored, hoarse with excitement, "don't do anything foolish. You're only joking, aren't you?" 

"Yes, I'm joking, but it could turn into an expensive joke. " 

"Just tell me what I'm supposed to do, Franz. I'll do anything you ask. " He looked me up and down with narrowed eyes and laughed again.

 "Don't be so stupid, " he said with false good humor. "You know as well as I that I'm in a position to earn two marks. I'm not a rich man who can afford to throw them away, but you're rich--you even have a watch. All you have to do is give me two marks; then everything will be all right. " I understood his logic. But two marks! That was as much and as unattainable as ten, as a hundred, as a thousand. I didn't have a pfennig. There was a piggy bank that my mother kept for me. When relatives came to visit they would drop in five- or ten-pfennig pieces. That was all I had. I had no allowance at that time. 

"I just don't have any, " I said sadly. "I don't have any money at all. But I'll give you everything else I have. I have a Western, tin soldiers, and a compass. Wait, I'll get them for you. " Kromer's mouth merely twisted into a brief sneer. Then he spit on the floor. 

Harshly he said: "You can keep your crap. A compass! Don't make me mad! You hear, I'm after money. " 

"But I don't have any, I never get any, I can't help it. "

 "All right, then you'll bring me the two marks tomorrow. I'll wait for you after school down near the market place. That's all. You'll see what'll happen if you don't bring it. "

"But where am I going to get it if I don't have any?" 

"There's plenty of money in your house. That's your business. Tomorrow after school. And I'm telling you: if you don't have it with you... " He threw me a withering look, spit once more, and vanished like a shadow.

 I couldn't even get upstairs. My life was wrecked. I thought of running away and never coming back, or of drowning myself. However, I couldn't picture any of this very clearly. In the dark, I sat down on the bottom step of our staircase, huddled up within myself, abandoning myself to misery. That's where Lina found me weeping as she came downstairs with the basket to fetch wood. I begged her not to say a word, then I went upstairs. To the right of the glass door hung my father's hat and my mother's parasol; they gave me a feeling of home and comfort, and my heart greeted them thankfully, as the Prodigal Son might greet the sight and smell of old familiar rooms. But all of it was lost to me now, all of it belonged to the clear, well-lighted world of my father and mother, and I, guilty and deeply engulfed in an alien world, was entangled in adventures and sin, threatened by an enemy, --by dangers, fear, and shame. The hat and parasol, the old sandstone floor I was so fond of, the broad picture above the hall cupboard, the voice of my elder sister coming to me from the living room were all more moving, more precious, more delicious than ever before, but they had ceased to be a refuge and something I could rely on; they had become an unmistakable reproach.

 None of this was mine any more, I could no longer take part in its quiet cheerfulness. My feet had become muddied, I could not even wipe them clean on the mat; everywhere I went I was followed by a darkness of which this world of home knew nothing. How many secrets I had had, how often I had been afraid--but all of it had been child's play compared with what I brought home with me today. I was haunted by misfortune, it was reaching out toward me so that not even my mother could protect me, since she was not even allowed to know. Whether my crime was stealing or lying--(hadn't I sworn a false oath by God and everything that was sacred?)--was immaterial.