Narcissuss long siege had not succeeded in bringing Goldmunds secret out into the open. For a long time he had apparently labored in vain to awaken him, to teach him the language in which the secret could be told.

Goldmunds description of his home and childhood gave no clear picture. There was a shadowlife, faceless father whom he venerated, and then there was the legend of a mother who had vanished, or perished, long ago, who was nothing but a pallid name. Narcissus, the experienced reader of souls, had gradually come to recognize that Goldmund was one of those people part of whose lives have been lost; pressure of circumstances or some kind of magic power has obliterated a portion of their past. He realized that nothing would be gained by mere questioning and teaching, that he had overestimated the power of logic and spoken many useless words.

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