It was a curious friendship that had beguween Narcissus and Goldmund, ohat pleased only a few; at times it seemed to displease evewo friends.
At first it was Narcissus, the thinker, who had the harder time of it. All was mind to him, even love; he was uo give in to an attra without thinking about it first. He was the guiding spirit of this friendship. For a long time he alone sciously reized its destiny, its depth, its significe. For a long time he remained lonely, surrounded by love, knowing that his friend would fully belong to him only after he had been able to lead him toward reition. With glowing fervor, playful and irresponsible, Goldmund abandoned himself to this new life; while Narcissus, aware and responsible, accepted the demands of fate.
Foldmund it was a release at first, a valesce. His youthful need for love had been powerfully aroused, and at the same time hopelessly intimidated, by the looks and the kiss of a pretty girl. Deep inside himself he felt the life he had dreamed of up to now, all his beliefs, all the things for which he felt himself destined, his entire vocation, threate the root by the kiss through the window, by the expression of those dark eyes. His father had decided that he was to lead the life of a monk; and with all his will he had accepted this decision. The fire of his first youthful fervor buroward a pious, ascetic hero-image, and at the first furtive enter, at lifes first appeal to his senses, at the first being of femininity he had felt that there was an enemy, a demon, a danger: woman. And now fate was him salvation, now in his most desperate his friendship came toward him and offered his longing a new alter for reverence. Here he ermitted to love, to abandon himself without sinning, to give his heart to an admired older friend, more intelligent thao spiritualize the dangerous flames of the seo transform them into nobler fires of sacrifice.
But during the first spring of this friendship he ran up against unfamiliar obstacles, ued, inprehensible ess, frightening demands. It never occurred to him to see himself as the tradi, the exact opposite of his friend. He thought that only love, only sincere devotion was o fuse two into oo wipe out differences and bridge trasts. But how harsh and positive this Narcissus was, how merciless and precise! I abando, grateful wandering together in the land of friendship seemed unknown and undesirable to him. He did not seem to uand, to tolerate dreamy strolls on paths that led in no particular dire. When Goldmund had seemed ill, he had shown , and loyally he helped and advised him in all matters of school and learning; he explained difficult passages in books, opened new horizons in the realm of grammar, logid theology. Yet he never seemed genuinely satisfied with his friend, or to approve of him; quite often he seemed to be smiling, seemed not to take him seriously. Goldmuhat this was not mere pedantry, not just the dession of someone older and more intelligent, but that there was something else behind it, something deeper and important. But he was uhis deeper something, and this friendship often made him feel sad and lost.
Actually Narcissus reized his friends qualities only too well; he was not blind to the buddiy, the vital force of nature in him, his fl opulence. He was bent on feeding Greek to a fervent young soul, on repaying an i love with logi the trary, he loved the blond adolest altogether too much, and this was dangerous for