I thought no one was there and pulled back one of the curtains.
There I saw Max Demian, sitting on a stool by a curtained window.
His attitude was cramped and he was oddly changed. The thought flashed through me: You have seen him like this once before!
His arms were motionless at his side, his hands in his lap; his face inclined slightly forward, with open eyes, was without sight, as if dead.
In the eyes there glimmered dully a little reflex of light, as in a piece of glass.
The pale face was self-absorbed and without any expression, save that of great rigidity.
He looked like a very ancient mask of an animal at the door of a temple.
He appeared not to be breathing. The recollection came to me—thus, exactly thus, had I once seen him, many years ago, when I was still quite a boy.
Thus had his eyes stared inwards, thus his hands had been lying motionless, close to one another, a fly had been crawling over his face.
And he had then, six years ago perhaps, looked just as old and as ageless, not a wrinkle in his face had changed.
I was frightened, and went softly out of the room and down the stairs.
In the hall I met Mother Eve. She was pale and seemed tired: I had not seen her like that before.
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