long essay (lost, for that matter), _On the Daemonic, as it Reveals
Itself in the Human Character_.

When a shrewdly intelligent young fellow of my own age criticised my
work from the assumption that the _daemonic_ did not exist, I
thought him ridiculous. I little dreamt that twenty-five years later
Relling, in _The Wild Duck_, would show himself to be on my
friend's side in the emphatic words: "What the Devil does it mean to be
daemonic! It's sheer nonsense."


V.

The "daemonic" was also responsible for the mingled attraction that was
exerted over me at this point by a young foreign student, and for the
intercourse which ensued between us. Kappers was born somewhere in the
West Indies, was the son of a well-to-do German manufacturer, and had
been brought up in a North German town. His father, for what reason I do
not know, wished him to study at Copenhagen University, and there take
his law examination. There was coloured blood in his veins, though much
diluted, maybe an eighth or so. He was tall and slender, somewhat loose
in his walk and bearing, pale-complexioned, with dark eyes and negro
hair. His face, though not handsome, looked exceedingly clever, and its
expression was not deceptive, for the young man had an astonishing
intellect.

He was placed in the house of a highly respected family in Copenhagen,
that of a prominent scientist, a good-natured, unpractical savant, very
unsuited to be the mentor of such an unconventional young man. He was
conspicuous among the native Danish freshmen for his elegant dress and