But I decided, acting under a suggestion which came to me in a dreamy sort of way,
as under all my promptings of that period, to send him the picture with the hawk—whether it would reach him or not.
I wrote nothing thereon, not even my name. I carefully cut the border, bought a large paper cover and wrote on it my friend’s former address.
Then I sent it off. The approach of an examination caused me to work harder than usual in school.
The masters had again received me into grace, since I had suddenly changed my vile conduct.
I was not, even now, by any means a good pupil, but neither I nor anyone else seemed to remember that,
half a year before, my expulsion from the school had been imminent.
My father now wrote to me as formerly, adopting his old cheerful tone, without reproaches or threats.
Yet I had no impulse to explain to him or to anyone how the change was brought about.
It was merely chance that this change coincided with the wishes of my parents and the masters.
It did not bring me into closer contact with the others but isolated me still more.
I myself was ignorant of the tendency of the change in me, it might be leading me to Demian, to a distant fate.
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