He came stumbling round a corner, blown along by the cold night wind. He was very drunk.
I did not like to call him. He passed by without noticing me,
staring in front of him with strange, glowing eyes, as though he were moving in obedience to a dark call from the unknown.
I followed him down one street. He drifted along as if drawn by an invisible wire, with the swaying gait of a fanatic, or like a ghost.
Sadly I went home, to the unsolved problems of my dreams.
“Thus he renews the world in himself!” I thought, and felt instantly that my thought was base and moral.
What did I know of his dreams? Perhaps in his intoxication he was going a surer way than in my anxiety.
In the intervals between lessons it struck me once or twice that a boy who had never before attracted my notice was hovering about in my proximity.
It was a little, weak-looking, slim youngster with reddish-blond thin hair, who had something peculiar in his look and behavior.
One evening as I came home he was on the watch for me in the street.
He let me pass by, then walked behind me; and remained standing in front of the door of the house.
“Can I do anything for you?” I asked. “I only want to speak to you,” he said timidly.
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