It had begun with Beatrice, but for some time past I had been living in quite an unreal world with my paintings and my thoughts of Demian,
so that she quite disappeared from my mind, as she did from my view.
I should not have been able to say a word to anyone of my dreams, of my expectations,
of the inner change realized in me, not even if I had wished to do so.
But I had not the faintest desire ever to broach the subject.
CHAPTER FIVE - THE BIRD FIGHTS ITS WAY OUT OF THE EGG
My painted dream-bird was on its way, searching out my friend. An answer came to me in the most curious manner.
In my classroom in school I found at my desk, in the interval between two lessons, a piece of paper slipped between the pages of my book.
It was folded in the manner we used for passing notes to one another in class.
I wondered who could have sent me such a note, as I was not so intimate with any of the boys that one of them should wish to write to me.
I thought it was a summons to participate in some school rag or other,
in which however I should not have taken part, and I replaced the note unopened in my book.
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