“No, but then I simply did what I wished, and sat next to you without hesitation. The boy with whom I changed places was simply surprised, and let me do it without further say. And the parson indeed noticed once that a change had taken place--in fact, whenever he looks at me something worries him secretly. That is to say, he knows my name is Demian, and that something must be wrong that I, whose initial is D, am sitting back there among the S’s! But that does not penetrate his consciousness because my will is against it, because I prevent him again and again from becoming conscious of it. He notices now and then that something is wrong. He looks at me and begins to study the question, the good fellow. But I have a simple means at my disposal. I look at him very, very fixedly in the eyes. Hardly anyone can bear that. They always get restive. If you want to get something out of a person, and you fix him unexpectedly with your eyes, and if he doesn’t get restive, then give it up! You won’t get anything out of him, ever! But that happens seldom. I know only one single person with whom this trick won’t help me.” “Who is that?” I asked quickly. He looked at me, with eyes somewhat closed; as his fashion was when he meditated. Then he looked away and gave no answer, and in spite of my lively curiosity I could not bring myself to repeat the question. But I believe he was referring to his mother. He seemed to live on very intimate terms with her, but he never spoke about her, never invited me to his house. I scarcely knew what his mother looked like. * * * * * Several times I attempted to imitate his example by concentrating my will-power on something so firmly that I would have to attain it. I had desires which seemed to me sufficiently pressing. But nothing came of it. I could not bring myself to talk matters over with Demian. I should not have been able to make him understand what I wanted. He did not ask, either.