“She felt it. She suddenly sent me away, I was to come to you. I had just told her the news about Russia.”
We turned back, scarcely speaking, he untied his horse and mounted.
I first realized in my room how exhausted I was by Demian’s message, and even more so by my previous spiritual exertions. But Mother Eve had heard me! My thoughts had reached her. She would have come herself, if—how wonderful all this was, and how beautiful! Now it was to be war. Now what we had so often spoken of was about to happen. And Demian had known so much in advance. How strange that the world’s stream would no longer flow somewhere or other by us—that now it was suddenly flowing through us, that fate and adventure called us, and that now, or soon, the moment would come when the world would need us, when it would be transformed. Demian was right, one should not be sentimental over it. Only it was strange that I was now to experience that lonely thing, “fate,” with so many, with the whole world. Good then!
I was ready. In the evening, when I went through the town, every corner was alive with bustle and excitement. Everywhere the word “war”!
I went to Mother Eve’s house. We had supper in the summer house. I was the only guest. No one spoke a word about the war. But later, shortly before I left, Mother Eve said: “Dear Sinclair, you called me to-day. You know why I did not come myself. But don’t forget, you know the call now and if ever you need someone who bears the sign, call me again.”
She rose and went out through the gloaming into the garden. Tall and queenly, invested with mystery, she stepped between the trees, the foliage ceased its whispering at her approach, and over her head glimmered tenderly the many stars.
I am coming to the end. Events marched quickly. War was declared. Demian, who looked strange in uniform, with a silver-grey cloak, went away. I brought his mother home. Soon after I also said good-bye to her. She kissed me on the lips and held me a moment on her breast, and her large eyes burned steadily close to mine.
And all men were like brothers. They had in mind their country and their honor. But it was fate, they peeped for a moment into the unveiled face. Young men came out of barracks, stepped into trains, and on many a face I saw a sign—not ours—a beautiful and dignified sign, signifying love and death. I as well was embraced by people I had never seen before. I understood and responded gladly. It was an atmosphere of intoxication in which they moved, not that of a fated will. But the intoxication was sacred, it was due to the fact that they had all looked into the rousing eyes of destiny.
It was already nearly winter when I went to the front.