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I merely reached out to touch the girl, I’d never be able to turn back, that sin would swallow me like the maw of hell and not give me up ever. That it would be the end of every beautiful dream, of all virtue, of all love of God and good.”
    Narcissus nodded, deep in thought.
    â€œLove of God,” he said slowly, searching for words, “is not always the same as love of good. I wish it were that simple. We know what is good, it is written in the Commandments. But God is not contained only in the Commandments, you know; they are only an infinitesimal part of Him. A man may abide by the Commandments and be far from God.”
    â€œBut don’t you understand?” Goldmund complained.
    â€œCertainly I understand. You feel that woman, sex, is the essence of everything you call ‘world’ or ‘sin.’ You think yourself incapable of all other sins; or, if you did commit them, you think they would not crush you, that you could confess them and be whole again.”
    â€œYes, that is exactly how I feel.”
    â€œYou see, I do understand. You’re not so terribly wrong after all; the story of Eve and the serpent is certainly no idle tale. And yet you are not right about this, my dear friend. You would be right if you were the Abbot Daniel, or your baptismal saint, the holy Chrysostom, or a bishop, or a priest, even a simple monk. But you aren’t. You are a student, and although you wish to remain in the cloister for life, or your father wishes it for you, still you have not taken any vows; you have not been consecrated. If some pretty girl were to tempt you one of these days and you were to give in to the temptation, you would not have broken any vows.”
    â€œNo written vows!” Goldmund cried heatedly. “But an unwritten one, the most sacred, something I carry inside me. Can’t you see that this may apply to many others but not to me? You have not been consecrated either, nor have you taken any vows yet, but you would never permit yourself to touch a woman! Or am I mistaken? Isn’t that how you are? Or aren’t you the man I thought you were? Didn’t you long ago, in your heart, make the vow that has not yet been made with words before superiors, and don’t you feel bound by it forever? Aren’t you exactly like me?”
    â€œNo, Goldmund, I am not like you, not in the way you think, although I, too, am keeping an unspoken vow—in that respect you are right—but I am in no way like you. Some day you will think of what I am going to say to you now: our friendship has no other purpose, no other reason, than to show you how utterly unlike me you are.”
    Goldmund was stunned; Narcissus’s expression and tone permitted no contradiction. He was silent. Why had Narcissus said these words? Why should Narcissus’s unspoken vow be more sacred than his own? Didn’t he take him at all seriously? Did he see nothing but a child in him? The confusions and griefs of this strange friendship were beginning all over again.
    Narcissus no longer had any doubt about the nature of Goldmund’s secret. It was Eve who stood behind it, the original mother. But how was it possible that the awakening of sex met with such bitter antagonism in such a beautiful, healthy, flowering adolescent? There must be a secret enemy who had managed to split this magnificent human being within himself and turn him against his natural urges. This demon had to be discovered, had to be conjured up and made visible; only then could it be defeated.
    Meanwhile Goldmund had been more and more neglected by his classmates, or rather they felt neglected by him, betrayed. His friendship with Narcissus pleased no one. The slanderers, those who had themselves been in love with one or the other, said the whole thing was against nature. Even those who were certain that no vice could be suspected here shook their heads. No one wanted to see these two friends together. It seemed