but it was no longer consolation and secure possession.
All of it was now a reproach. All this belonged to me no more, I could share no more in its cheerfulness and peace.
I carried mud on my shoes that I could not wipe off on the mat, I brought shadows in with me, of which the home-world had no knowledge.
How many secrets had I already had, how many cares—but that was play, a mere nothing compared with what I was bringing in with me that day.
Fate was overtaking me, hands were stretched out after me,
from which even my mother could not protect me, of which she was to be allowed no knowledge.
It was all the same, whether my offense was thieving, or a lie (had I not taken a false oath by God?).
My sin was not this or that, I had tendered my hand to the devil.
Why did I follow him? Why had I obeyed Kromer, more than ever I did my father?
Why had I falsely invented the story of the theft? Why had I plumed myself on having committed a crime, as if it had been a deed of heroism?
Now the devil had me by the hand, now the evil one was pursuing me.
For a moment I felt no further dread of the morrow,
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