All that she had said to me about genuine love crossed my mind, hundreds of fine, suggestive words,
a hundred tender invitations, promises perhaps—and what had I made of them?
Nothing! Nothing! I took up a position in the middle of my room, collected my whole conscious self together and thought of Eve.
I wished to concentrate the forces of my soul, in order to let her feel my love, in order to draw her to me.
She was to come, longing for my embrace. My kisses were to suck insatiably the ripe fruit of her lips.
I stood tense, until fingers and feet became stiff with cold.
I felt force was going out of me. For a few seconds something seemed to take shape with me, something bright and cool;
I had for a moment the sensation as if I carried a crystal in my heart, and I knew that was myself.
A cold chill pierced to my heart. As I woke out of my fearful state of tension I felt something was approaching.
I was exhausted to the point of death, but I was prepared to see Eve step into the room, burning with passion, ravished.
The sound of horse’s hoofs clattering down the long street rang nearer and nearer, then suddenly ceased. I sprang to the window.
Below Demian was dismounting. “What is the matter, Demian? Nothing can have happened to your mother?”
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