rent apartment geneva

chapter 6 clerval then put the following letter intomy hands. it was from my own elizabeth: "my dearest cousin, "you have been ill, very ill, and even theconstant letters of dear kind henry are not sufficient to reassureme on your account. you are forbidden to write——to hold a pen; yetone word from you, dear victor, is necessary to calm our apprehensions. fora long time i have thought that each post would bring this line, andmy persuasions have

restrained my uncle from undertaking a journeyto ingolstadt. i have prevented his encountering the inconveniencesand perhaps dangers of so long a journey, yet how often have i regrettednot being able to perform it myself! i figure to myself thatthe task of attending on your sickbed has devolved on some mercenaryold nurse, who could never guess your wishes nor minister to them withthe care and affection of your poor cousin. yet that is over now: clervalwrites that indeed you are getting better. i eagerly hope thatyou will confirm this intelligence soon in your own handwriting.

"get well——and return to us. you willfind a happy, cheerful home and friends who love you dearly. your father'shealth is vigorous, and he asks but to see you, but to be assured thatyou are well; and not a care will ever cloud his benevolent countenance.how pleased you would be to remark the improvement of our ernest!he is now sixteen and full of activity and spirit. he is desirous tobe a true swiss and to enter into foreign service, but we cannot part withhim, at least until his elder brother returns to us. my uncle is notpleased with the idea of a military career in a distant country, buternest never had your

powers of application. he looks upon studyas an odious fetter; his time is spent in the open air, climbing thehills or rowing on the lake. i fear that he will become an idlerunless we yield the point and permit him to enter on the professionwhich he has selected. "little alteration, except the growth of ourdear children, has taken place since you left us. the blue lake andsnow—clad mountains——they never change; and i think our placid homeand our contented hearts are regulated by the same immutable laws. my triflingoccupations take up my time and amuse me, and i am rewarded forany exertions by seeing

none but happy, kind faces around me. sinceyou left us, but one change has taken place in our little household.do you remember on what occasion justine moritz entered our family?probably you do not; i will relate her history, therefore in afew words. madame moritz, her mother, was a widow with four children,of whom justine was the third. this girl had always been the favouriteof her father, but through a strange perversity, her mother couldnot endure her, and after the death of m. moritz, treated hervery ill. my aunt observed this, and when justine was twelve years ofage, prevailed on her mother

to allow her to live at our house. the republicaninstitutions of our country have produced simpler and happiermanners than those which prevail in the great monarchies that surroundit. hence there is less distinction between the several classes ofits inhabitants; and the lower orders, being neither so poor nor sodespised, their manners are more refined and moral. a servant in genevadoes not mean the same thing as a servant in france and england.justine, thus received in our family, learned the duties of a servant,a condition which, in our fortunate country, does not include the ideaof ignorance and a

sacrifice of the dignity of a human being. "justine, you may remember, was a great favouriteof yours; and i recollect you once remarked that if you werein an ill humour, one glance from justine could dissipate it, forthe same reason that ariosto gives concerning the beauty of angelica——shelooked so frank—hearted and happy. my aunt conceiveda great attachment for her, by which she was induced to give her an educationsuperior to that which she had at first intended. this benefitwas fully repaid; justine was the most grateful little creaturein the world: i do not

mean that she made any professions i neverheard one pass her lips, but you could see by her eyes that she almostadored her protectress. although her disposition was gay and in manyrespects inconsiderate, yet she paid the greatest attention to everygesture of my aunt. she thought her the model of all excellence andendeavoured to imitate her phraseology and manners, so that even nowshe often reminds me of her. "when my dearest aunt died every one was toomuch occupied in their own grief to notice poor justine, who had attendedher during her illness with the most anxious affection. poor justinewas very ill; but other

trials were reserved for her. "one by one, her brothers and sister died;and her mother, with the exception of her neglected daughter, was leftchildless. the conscience of the woman was troubled; shebegan to think that the deaths of her favourites was a judgement fromheaven to chastise her partiality. she was a roman catholic; andi believe her confessor confirmed the idea which she had conceived.accordingly, a few months after your departure for ingolstadt, justinewas called home by her repentant mother. poor girl! she wept whenshe quitted our house; she

was much altered since the death of my aunt;grief had given softness and a winning mildness to her manners, whichhad before been remarkable for vivacity. nor was her residence at hermother's house of a nature to restore her gaiety. the poor woman wasvery vacillating in her repentance. she sometimes begged justine toforgive her unkindness, but much oftener accused her of having causedthe deaths of her brothers and sister. perpetual fretting atlength threw madame moritz into a decline, which at first increased herirritability, but she is now at peace for ever. she died on the firstapproach of cold weather,

at the beginning of this last winter. justinehas just returned to us; and i assure you i love her tenderly. sheis very clever and gentle, and extremely pretty; as i mentioned before,her mien and her expression continually remind me of my dearaunt. "i must say also a few words to you, my dearcousin, of little darling william. i wish you could see him; he is verytall of his age, with sweet laughing blue eyes, dark eyelashes,and curling hair. when he smiles, two little dimples appear on eachcheek, which are rosy with health. he has already had one or two littlewives, but louisa biron

is his favourite, a pretty little girl offive years of age. "now, dear victor, i dare say you wish tobe indulged in a little gossip concerning the good people of geneva.the pretty miss mansfield has already received the congratulatory visitson her approaching marriage with a young englishman, john melbourne,esq. her ugly sister, manon, married m. duvillard, the richbanker, last autumn. your favourite schoolfellow, louis manoir, hassuffered several misfortunes since the departure of clerval from geneva.but he has already recovered his spirits, and is reported tobe on the point of marrying a

lively pretty frenchwoman, madame tavernier.she is a widow, and much older than manoir; but she is very much admired,and a favourite with everybody. "i have written myself into better spirits,dear cousin; but my anxiety returns upon me as i conclude. write, dearestvictor,——one line——one word will be a blessing to us. ten thousandthanks to henry for his kindness, his affection, and his many letters;we are sincerely grateful. adieu! my cousin; take care of yourself; and, i entreat you, write!

"elizabeth lavenza. "geneva, march 18, 17——." "dear, dear elizabeth!" i exclaimed, wheni had read her letter: "i will write instantly and relieve them fromthe anxiety they must feel." i wrote, and this exertion greatly fatiguedme; but my convalescence had commenced, and proceeded regularly. inanother fortnight i was able to leave my chamber. one of my first duties on my recovery wasto introduce clerval to the several professors of the university. in doingthis, i underwent a

kind of rough usage, ill befitting the woundsthat my mind had sustained. ever since the fatal night, theend of my labours, and the beginning of my misfortunes, i had conceiveda violent antipathy even to the name of natural philosophy. when iwas otherwise quite restored to health, the sight of a chemical instrumentwould renew all the agony of my nervous symptoms. henry saw this, andhad removed all my apparatus from my view. he had also changedmy apartment; for he perceived that i had acquired a dislike forthe room which had previously been my laboratory. but these caresof clerval were made of

no avail when i visited the professors. m.waldman inflicted torture when he praised, with kindness and warmth,the astonishing progress i had made in the sciences. he soon perceivedthat i disliked the subject; but not guessing the real cause,he attributed my feelings to modesty, and changed the subject from my improvement,to the science itself, with a desire, as i evidently saw,of drawing me out. what could i do? he meant to please, and he tormentedme. i felt as if he had placed carefully, one by one, in my viewthose instruments which were to be afterwards used in putting me toa slow and cruel death. i

writhed under his words, yet dared not exhibitthe pain i felt. clerval, whose eyes and feelings were alwaysquick in discerning the sensations of others, declined the subject,alleging, in excuse, his total ignorance; and the conversation tooka more general turn. i thanked my friend from my heart, but i didnot speak. i saw plainly that he was surprised, but he never attemptedto draw my secret from me; and although i loved him with a mixtureof affection and reverence that knew no bounds, yet i could never persuademyself to confide in him that event which was so often presentto my recollection, but which

i feared the detail to another would onlyimpress more deeply. m. krempe was not equally docile; and in mycondition at that time, of almost insupportable sensitiveness, his harshblunt encomiums gave me even more pain than the benevolent approbationof m. waldman. "d——n the fellow!" cried he; "why, m. clerval, iassure you he has outstript us all. ay, stare if you please; but it isnevertheless true. a youngster who, but a few years ago, believedin cornelius agrippa as firmly as in the gospel, has now set himselfat the head of the university; and if he is not soon pulled down,we shall all be out of

countenance.——ay, ay," continued he, observingmy face expressive of suffering, "m. frankenstein is modest; anexcellent quality in a young man. young men should be diffident of themselves,you know, m. clerval: i was myself when young; but thatwears out in a very short time." m. krempe had now commenced an eulogy on himself,which happily turned the conversation from a subject that was soannoying to me. clerval had never sympathized in my tastesfor natural science; and his literary pursuits differed wholly from thosewhich had occupied me. he

came to the university with the design ofmaking himself complete master of the oriental languages, and thushe should open a field for the plan of life he had marked out for himself.resolved to pursue no inglorious career, he turned his eyes towardthe east, as affording scope for his spirit of enterprise. the persian,arabic, and sanskrit languages engaged his attention, and i waseasily induced to enter on the same studies. idleness had ever been irksometo me, and now that i wished to fly from reflection, and hated myformer studies, i felt great relief in being the fellow—pupil withmy friend, and found not

only instruction but consolation in the worksof the orientalists. i did not, like him, attempt a critical knowledgeof their dialects, for i did not contemplate making any other useof them than temporary amusement. i read merely to understand theirmeaning, and they well repaid my labours. their melancholy is soothing,and their joy elevating, to a degree i never experiencedin studying the authors of any other country. when you read their writings,life appears to consist in a warm sun and a garden of roses,——inthe smiles and frowns of a fair enemy, and the fire that consumesyour own heart. how

different from the manly and heroical poetryof greece and rome! summer passed away in these occupations, andmy return to geneva was fixed for the latter end of autumn; but beingdelayed by several accidents, winter and snow arrived, the roadswere deemed impassable, and my journey was retarded until the ensuingspring. i felt this delay very bitterly; for i longed to see mynative town and my beloved friends. my return had only been delayed solong, from an unwillingness to leave clerval in a strangeplace, before he had become acquainted with any of its inhabitants. thewinter, however, was spent

cheerfully; and although the spring was uncommonlylate, when it came its beauty compensated for its dilatoriness. the month of may had already commenced, andi expected the letter daily which was to fix the date of my departure,when henry proposed a pedestrian tour in the environs of ingolstadt,that i might bid a personal farewell to the country i had solong inhabited. i acceded with pleasure to this proposition: i was fondof exercise, and clerval had always been my favourite companion inthe ramble of this nature that i had taken among the scenes of my nativecountry.

we passed a fortnight in these perambulations:my health and spirits had long been restored, and they gained additionalstrength from the salubrious air i breathed, the natural incidentsof our progress, and the conversation of my friend. study had beforesecluded me from the intercourse of my fellow—creatures, andrendered me unsocial; but clerval called forth the better feelings ofmy heart; he again taught me to love the aspect of nature, and the cheerfulfaces of children. excellent friend! how sincerely you did loveme, and endeavour to elevate my mind until it was on a level withyour own. a selfish

pursuit had cramped and narrowed me, untilyour gentleness and affection warmed and opened my senses; i becamethe same happy creature who, a few years ago, loved and beloved byall, had no sorrow or care. when happy, inanimate nature had the powerof bestowing on me the most delightful sensations. a serene sky and verdantfields filled me with ecstasy. the present season was indeed divine;the flowers of spring bloomed in the hedges, while those of summerwere already in bud. i was undisturbed by thoughts which during thepreceding year had pressed upon me, notwithstanding my endeavours tothrow them off, with an

invincible burden. henry rejoiced in my gaiety, and sincerelysympathised in my feelings: he exerted himself to amuse me, while he expressedthe sensations that filled his soul. the resources of his mindon this occasion were truly astonishing: his conversation was full ofimagination; and very often, in imitation of the persian and arabic writers,he invented tales of wonderful fancy and passion. at other timeshe repeated my favourite poems, or drew me out into arguments, whichhe supported with great ingenuity. we returned to our college on asunday afternoon: the

peasants were dancing, and every one we metappeared gay and happy. my own spirits were high, and i bounded alongwith feelings of unbridled joy and hilarity. chapter 7 on my return, i found the following letterfrom my father:—— "my dear victor, "you have probably waited impatiently fora letter to fix the date of your return to us; and i was at first temptedto write only a few lines, merely mentioning the day on whichi should expect you. but

that would be a cruel kindness, and i darenot do it. what would be your surprise, my son, when you expected ahappy and glad welcome, to behold, on the contrary, tears and wretchedness?and how, victor, can i relate our misfortune? absence cannot haverendered you callous to our joys and griefs; and how shall i inflictpain on my long absent son? i wish to prepare you for the woefulnews, but i know it is impossible; even now your eye skims over thepage to seek the words which are to convey to you the horrible tidings. "william is dead!——that sweet child, whosesmiles delighted and warmed

my heart, who was so gentle, yet so gay! victor,he is murdered! "i will not attempt to console you; but willsimply relate the circumstances of the transaction. "last thursday (may 7th), i, my niece, andyour two brothers, went to walk in plainpalais. the evening was warmand serene, and we prolonged our walk farther than usual. it was alreadydusk before we thought of returning; and then we discovered that williamand ernest, who had gone on before, were not to be found. we accordinglyrested on a seat until they should return. presently ernest came,and enquired if we had seen

his brother; he said, that he had been playingwith him, that william had run away to hide himself, and that hevainly sought for him, and afterwards waited for a long time, but thathe did not return. "this account rather alarmed us, and we continuedto search for him until night fell, when elizabeth conjecturedthat he might have returned to the house. he was not there. wereturned again, with torches; for i could not rest, when i thoughtthat my sweet boy had lost himself, and was exposed to all the dampsand dews of night; elizabeth also suffered extreme anguish. aboutfive in the morning i

discovered my lovely boy, whom the night beforei had seen blooming and active in health, stretched on the grass lividand motionless; the print of the murder's finger was on his neck. "he was conveyed home, and the anguish thatwas visible in my countenance betrayed the secret to elizabeth.she was very earnest to see the corpse. at first i attempted to preventher but she persisted, and entering the room where it lay, hastilyexamined the neck of the victim, and clasping her hands exclaimed,'o god! i have murdered my darling child!'

"she fainted, and was restored with extremedifficulty. when she again lived, it was only to weep and sigh. she toldme, that that same evening william had teased her to let himwear a very valuable miniature that she possessed of your mother.this picture is gone, and was doubtless the temptation which urged themurderer to the deed. we have no trace of him at present, althoughour exertions to discover him are unremitted; but they will not restoremy beloved william! "come, dearest victor; you alone can consoleelizabeth. she weeps continually, and accuses herself unjustlyas the cause of his death;

her words pierce my heart. we are all unhappy;but will not that be an additional motive for you, my son, to returnand be our comforter? your dear mother! alas, victor! i now say,thank god she did not live to witness the cruel, miserable death of heryoungest darling! "come, victor; not brooding thoughts of vengeanceagainst the assassin, but with feelings of peace and gentleness,that will heal, instead of festering, the wounds of our minds. enterthe house of mourning, my friend, but with kindness and affection forthose who love you, and not with hatred for your enemies.

"your affectionate and afflicted father,"alphonse frankenstein. "geneva, may 12th, 17——." clerval, who had watched my countenance asi read this letter, was surprised to observe the despair that succeededthe joy i at first expressed on receiving new from my friends.i threw the letter on the table, and covered my face with my hands. "my dear frankenstein," exclaimed henry, whenhe perceived me weep with bitterness, "are you always to be unhappy?my dear friend, what has happened?"

i motioned him to take up the letter, whilei walked up and down the room in the extremest agitation. tears alsogushed from the eyes of clerval, as he read the account of my misfortune. "i can offer you no consolation, my friend,"said he; "your disaster is irreparable. what do you intend to do?" "to go instantly to geneva: come with me,henry, to order the horses." during our walk, clerval endeavoured to saya few words of consolation; he could only express his heartfelt sympathy."poor william!" said he, "dear lovely child, he now sleeps with hisangel mother! who that had

seen him bright and joyous in his young beauty,but must weep over his untimely loss! to die so miserably; to feelthe murderer's grasp! how much more a murdered that could destroy radiantinnocence! poor little fellow! one only consolation have we; hisfriends mourn and weep, but he is at rest. the pang is over, his sufferingsare at an end for ever. a sod covers his gentle form, and he knowsno pain. he can no longer be a subject for pity; we must reserve thatfor his miserable survivors." clerval spoke thus as we hurried through thestreets; the words

impressed themselves on my mind and i rememberedthem afterwards in solitude. but now, as soon as the horses arrived,i hurried into a cabriolet, and bade farewell to my friend. my journey was very melancholy. at first iwished to hurry on, for i longed to console and sympathise with my lovedand sorrowing friends; but when i drew near my native town, i slackenedmy progress. i could hardly sustain the multitude of feelings thatcrowded into my mind. i passed through scenes familiar to my youth,but which i had not seen for nearly six years. how altered every thingmight be during that

time! one sudden and desolating change hadtaken place; but a thousand little circumstances might have by degreesworked other alterations, which, although they were done more tranquilly,might not be the less decisive. fear overcame me; i dared no advance,dreading a thousand nameless evils that made me tremble, althoughi was unable to define them. i remained two days at lausanne, inthis painful state of mind. i contemplated the lake: the waters were placid;all around was calm; and the snowy mountains, 'the palaces of nature,'were not changed. by degrees the calm and heavenly scene restoredme, and i continued my

journey towards geneva. the road ran by the side of the lake, whichbecame narrower as i approached my native town. i discovered moredistinctly the black sides of jura, and the bright summit of montblanc. i wept like a child. "dear mountains! my own beautiful lake!how do you welcome your wanderer? your summits are clear; the skyand lake are blue and placid. is this to prognosticate peace, orto mock at my unhappiness?" i fear, my friend, that i shall render myselftedious by dwelling on these preliminary circumstances; but theywere days of comparative

happiness, and i think of them with pleasure.my country, my beloved country! who but a native can tell the delighti took in again beholding thy streams, thy mountains, and,more than all, thy lovely lake! yet, as i drew nearer home, grief and fearagain overcame me. night also closed around; and when i could hardlysee the dark mountains, i felt still more gloomily. the picture appeareda vast and dim scene of evil, and i foresaw obscurely that i was destinedto become the most wretched of human beings. alas! i prophesiedtruly, and failed only

in one single circumstance, that in all themisery i imagined and dreaded, i did not conceive the hundredthpart of the anguish i was destined to endure. it was completely darkwhen i arrived in the environs of geneva; the gates of the townwere already shut; and i was obliged to pass the night at secheron, a villageat the distance of half a league from the city. the sky was serene;and, as i was unable to rest, i resolved to visit the spot wheremy poor william had been murdered. as i could not pass through thetown, i was obliged to cross the lake in a boat to arrive at plainpalais.during this short voyage

i saw the lightning playing on the summitof mont blanc in the most beautiful figures. the storm appeared to approachrapidly, and, on landing, i ascended a low hill, that i mightobserve its progress. it advanced; the heavens were clouded, and isoon felt the rain coming slowly in large drops, but its violence quicklyincreased. i quitted my seat, and walked on, althoughthe darkness and storm increased every minute, and the thunder burstwith a terrific crash over my head. it was echoed from saleve, thejuras, and the alps of savoy; vivid flashes of lightning dazzledmy eyes, illuminating the

lake, making it appear like a vast sheet offire; then for an instant every thing seemed of a pitchy darkness, untilthe eye recovered itself from the preceding flash. the storm, as isoften the case in switzerland, appeared at once in various partsof the heavens. the most violent storm hung exactly north of thetown, over the part of the lake which lies between the promontory ofbelrive and the village of copet. another storm enlightened jura withfaint flashes; and another darkened and sometimes disclosed the mole,a peaked mountain to the east of the lake.

while i watched the tempest, so beautifulyet terrific, i wandered on with a hasty step. this noble war in the skyelevated my spirits; i clasped my hands, and exclaimed aloud, "william,dear angel! this is thy funeral, this thy dirge!" as i said thesewords, i perceived in the gloom a figure which stole from behind a clumpof trees near me; i stood fixed, gazing intently: i could notbe mistaken. a flash of lightning illuminated the object, and discoveredits shape plainly to me; its gigantic stature, and the deformityof its aspect more hideous than belongs to humanity, instantly informedme that it was the wretch,

the filthy daemon, to whom i had given life.what did he there? could he be (i shuddered at the conception) themurderer of my brother? no sooner did that idea cross my imagination,than i became convinced of its truth; my teeth chattered, and i was forcedto lean against a tree for support. the figure passed me quickly,and i lost it in the gloom. nothing in human shape could have destroyedthe fair child. he was the murderer! i could not doubt it. the mere presenceof the idea was an irresistible proof of the fact. i thoughtof pursuing the devil; but it would have been in vain, for another flashdiscovered him to me

hanging among the rocks of the nearly perpendicularascent of mont saleve, a hill that bounds plainpalais onthe south. he soon reached the summit, and disappeared. i remained motionless. the thunder ceased;but the rain still continued, and the scene was enveloped inan impenetrable darkness. i revolved in my mind the events which i haduntil now sought to forget: the whole train of my progress toward thecreation; the appearance of the works of my own hands at my bedside; itsdeparture. two years had now nearly elapsed since the night on whichhe first received life; and

was this his first crime? alas! i had turnedloose into the world a depraved wretch, whose delight was in carnageand misery; had he not murdered my brother? no one can conceive the anguish i sufferedduring the remainder of the night, which i spent, cold and wet, in theopen air. but i did not feel the inconvenience of the weather; myimagination was busy in scenes of evil and despair. i considered thebeing whom i had cast among mankind, and endowed with the will andpower to effect purposes of horror, such as the deed which he had nowdone, nearly in the light

of my own vampire, my own spirit let loosefrom the grave, and forced to destroy all that was dear to me. day dawned; and i directed my steps towardsthe town. the gates were open, and i hastened to my father's house.my first thought was to discover what i knew of the murderer, andcause instant pursuit to be made. but i paused when i reflected on thestory that i had to tell. a being whom i myself had formed, and enduedwith life, had met me at midnight among the precipices of an inaccessiblemountain. i remembered also the nervous fever with whichi had been seized just at

the time that i dated my creation, and whichwould give an air of delirium to a tale otherwise so utterly improbable.i well knew that if any other had communicated such a relationto me, i should have looked upon it as the ravings of insanity.besides, the strange nature of the animal would elude all pursuit, evenif i were so far credited as to persuade my relatives to commence it.and then of what use would be pursuit? who could arrest a creature capableof scaling the overhanging sides of mont saleve? these reflectionsdetermined me, and i resolved to remain silent.

it was about five in the morning when i enteredmy father's house. i told the servants not to disturb the family,and went into the library to attend their usual hour of rising. six years had elapsed, passed in a dream butfor one indelible trace, and i stood in the same place where i hadlast embraced my father before my departure for ingolstadt. belovedand venerable parent! he still remained to me. i gazed on the pictureof my mother, which stood over the mantel—piece. it was an historicalsubject, painted at my father's desire, and represented carolinebeaufort in an agony of

despair, kneeling by the coffin of her deadfather. her garb was rustic, and her cheek pale; but there wasan air of dignity and beauty, that hardly permitted the sentiment of pity.below this picture was a miniature of william; and my tears flowedwhen i looked upon it. while i was thus engaged, ernest entered: he hadheard me arrive, and hastened to welcome me: "welcome, my dearestvictor," said he. "ah! i wish you had come three months ago, and thenyou would have found us all joyous and delighted. you come to us nowto share a misery which nothing can alleviate; yet your presence will,i hope, revive our

father, who seems sinking under his misfortune;and your persuasions will induce poor elizabeth to cease her vainand tormenting self—accusations.——poor william! hewas our darling and our pride!" tears, unrestrained, fell from my brother'seyes; a sense of mortal agony crept over my frame. before, i had onlyimagined the wretchedness of my desolated home; the realitycame on me as a new, and a not less terrible, disaster. i tried tocalm ernest; i enquired more minutely concerning my father, and here inamed my cousin. "she most of all," said ernest, "requiresconsolation; she accused

herself of having caused the death of my brother,and that made her very wretched. but since the murderer hasbeen discovered——" "the murderer discovered! good god! how canthat be? who could attempt to pursue him? it is impossible; one mightas well try to overtake the winds, or confine a mountain—stream witha straw. i saw him too; he was free last night!" "i do not know what you mean," replied mybrother, in accents of wonder, "but to us the discovery we have madecompletes our misery. no one would believe it at first; and even nowelizabeth will not be

convinced, notwithstanding all the evidence.indeed, who would credit that justine moritz, who was so amiable, andfond of all the family, could suddenly become so capable of so frightful,so appalling a crime?" "justine moritz! poor, poor girl, is she theaccused? but it is wrongfully; every one knows that; no one believesit, surely, ernest?" "no one did at first; but several circumstancescame out, that have almost forced conviction upon us; and herown behaviour has been so confused, as to add to the evidence of factsa weight that, i fear, leaves no hope for doubt. but she will betried today, and you will

then hear all." he then related that, the morning on whichthe murder of poor william had been discovered, justine had been takenill, and confined to her bed for several days. during this interval,one of the servants, happening to examine the apparel she had wornon the night of the murder, had discovered in her pocket the pictureof my mother, which had been judged to be the temptation of themurderer. the servant instantly showed it to one of the others,who, without saying a word to any of the family, went to a magistrate; and,upon their deposition,

justine was apprehended. on being chargedwith the fact, the poor girl confirmed the suspicion in a great measureby her extreme confusion of manner. this was a strange tale, but it did not shakemy faith; and i replied earnestly, "you are all mistaken; i know themurderer. justine, poor, good justine, is innocent." at that instant my father entered. i saw unhappinessdeeply impressed on his countenance, but he endeavoured towelcome me cheerfully; and, after we had exchanged our mournful greeting,would have introduced

some other topic than that of our disaster,had not ernest exclaimed, "good god, papa! victor says that he knowswho was the murderer of poor william." "we do also, unfortunately," replied my father,"for indeed i had rather have been for ever ignorant than havediscovered so much depravity and ungratitude in one i valuedso highly." "my dear father, you are mistaken; justineis innocent." "if she is, god forbid that she should sufferas guilty. she is to be tried today, and i hope, i sincerely hope,that she will be acquitted."

this speech calmed me. i was firmly convincedin my own mind that justine, and indeed every human being, wasguiltless of this murder. i had no fear, therefore, that any circumstantialevidence could be brought forward strong enough to convict her.my tale was not one to announce publicly; its astounding horror wouldbe looked upon as madness by the vulgar. did any one indeedexist, except i, the creator, who would believe, unless his sensesconvinced him, in the existence of the living monument of presumptionand rash ignorance which i had let loose upon the world?

we were soon joined by elizabeth. time hadaltered her since i last beheld her; it had endowed her with lovelinesssurpassing the beauty of her childish years. there was the same candour,the same vivacity, but it was allied to an expression more full ofsensibility and intellect. she welcomed me with the greatest affection."your arrival, my dear cousin," said she, "fills me with hope. youperhaps will find some means to justify my poor guiltless justine.alas! who is safe, if she be convicted of crime? i rely on her innocenceas certainly as i do upon my own. our misfortune is doubly hardto us; we have not only

lost that lovely darling boy, but this poorgirl, whom i sincerely love, is to be torn away by even a worse fate.if she is condemned, i never shall know joy more. but she will not,i am sure she will not; and then i shall be happy again, even afterthe sad death of my little william." "she is innocent, my elizabeth," said i, "andthat shall be proved; fear nothing, but let your spirits be cheeredby the assurance of her acquittal." "how kind and generous you are! every oneelse believes in her guilt,

and that made me wretched, for i knew thatit was impossible: and to see every one else prejudiced in so deadlya manner rendered me hopeless and despairing." she wept. "dearest niece," said my father, "dry yourtears. if she is, as you believe, innocent, rely on the justice ofour laws, and the activity with which i shall prevent the slightest shadowof partiality." chapter 8 we passed a few sad hours until eleven o'clock,when the trial was to commence. my father and the rest of the familybeing obliged to attend

as witnesses, i accompanied them to the court.during the whole of this wretched mockery of justice i sufferedliving torture. it was to be decided whether the result of my curiosityand lawless devices would cause the death of two of my fellow beings:one a smiling babe full of innocence and joy, the other far more dreadfullymurdered, with every aggravation of infamy that could make themurder memorable in horror. justine also was a girl of merit and possessedqualities which promised to render her life happy; now all was to beobliterated in an ignominious grave, and i the cause! a thousandtimes rather would i

have confessed myself guilty of the crimeascribed to justine, but i was absent when it was committed, and sucha declaration would have been considered as the ravings of a madmanand would not have exculpated her who suffered through me. the appearance of justine was calm. she wasdressed in mourning, and her countenance, always engaging, was rendered,by the solemnity of her feelings, exquisitely beautiful. yet she appearedconfident in innocence and did not tremble, although gazedon and execrated by thousands, for all the kindness which herbeauty might otherwise have

excited was obliterated in the minds of thespectators by the imagination of the enormity she was supposedto have committed. she was tranquil, yet her tranquillity was evidentlyconstrained; and as her confusion had before been adduced as aproof of her guilt, she worked up her mind to an appearance of courage.when she entered the court she threw her eyes round it and quicklydiscovered where we were seated. a tear seemed to dim her eye whenshe saw us, but she quickly recovered herself, and a look of sorrowfulaffection seemed to attest her utter guiltlessness.

the trial began, and after the advocate againsther had stated the charge, several witnesses were called. severalstrange facts combined against her, which might have staggered anyonewho had not such proof of her innocence as i had. she had been outthe whole of the night on which the murder had been committed and towardsmorning had been perceived by a market—woman not far fromthe spot where the body of the murdered child had been afterwards found.the woman asked her what she did there, but she looked very strangely andonly returned a confused and unintelligible answer. she returned tothe house about eight

o'clock, and when one inquired where she hadpassed the night, she replied that she had been looking for thechild and demanded earnestly if anything had been heard concerning him.when shown the body, she fell into violent hysterics and kept her bedfor several days. the picture was then produced which the servanthad found in her pocket; and when elizabeth, in a faltering voice,proved that it was the same which, an hour before the child had been missed,she had placed round his neck, a murmur of horror and indignationfilled the court. justine was called on for her defence. asthe trial had proceeded, her

countenance had altered. surprise, horror,and misery were strongly expressed. sometimes she struggled with hertears, but when she was desired to plead, she collected her powersand spoke in an audible although variable voice. "god knows," she said, "how entirely i aminnocent. but i do not pretend that my protestations should acquitme; i rest my innocence on a plain and simple explanation of the factswhich have been adduced against me, and i hope the character i havealways borne will incline my judges to a favourable interpretation whereany circumstance appears

doubtful or suspicious." she then related that, by the permission ofelizabeth, she had passed the evening of the night on which the murderhad been committed at the house of an aunt at chene, a village situatedat about a league from geneva. on her return, at about nine o'clock,she met a man who asked her if she had seen anything of the childwho was lost. she was alarmed by this account and passed severalhours in looking for him, when the gates of geneva were shut, and shewas forced to remain several hours of the night in a barn belongingto a cottage, being

unwilling to call up the inhabitants, to whomshe was well known. most of the night she spent here watching; towardsmorning she believed that she slept for a few minutes; some steps disturbedher, and she awoke. it was dawn, and she quitted her asylum, thatshe might again endeavour to find my brother. if she had gone near thespot where his body lay, it was without her knowledge. that she hadbeen bewildered when questioned by the market—woman was not surprising,since she had passed a sleepless night and the fate of poor williamwas yet uncertain. concerning the picture she could give no account.

"i know," continued the unhappy victim, "howheavily and fatally this one circumstance weighs against me, but ihave no power of explaining it; and when i have expressed my utter ignorance,i am only left to conjecture concerning the probabilities bywhich it might have been placed in my pocket. but here also i am checked.i believe that i have no enemy on earth, and none surely wouldhave been so wicked as to destroy me wantonly. did the murderer placeit there? i know of no opportunity afforded him for so doing; or,if i had, why should he have stolen the jewel, to part with it again sosoon?

"i commit my cause to the justice of my judges,yet i see no room for hope. i beg permission to have a few witnessesexamined concerning my character, and if their testimony shall notoverweigh my supposed guilt, i must be condemned, although i wouldpledge my salvation on my innocence." several witnesses were called who had knownher for many years, and they spoke well of her; but fear and hatredof the crime of which they supposed her guilty rendered them timorousand unwilling to come forward. elizabeth saw even this last resource,her excellent

dispositions and irreproachable conduct, aboutto fail the accused, when, although violently agitated, she desiredpermission to address the court. "i am," said she, "the cousin of the unhappychild who was murdered, or rather his sister, for i was educated by andhave lived with his parents ever since and even long before hisbirth. it may therefore be judged indecent in me to come forward on thisoccasion, but when i see a fellow creature about to perish throughthe cowardice of her pretended friends, i wish to be allowed tospeak, that i may say what i

know of her character. i am well acquaintedwith the accused. i have lived in the same house with her, at one timefor five and at another for nearly two years. during all that periodshe appeared to me the most amiable and benevolent of human creatures.she nursed madame frankenstein, my aunt, in her last illness,with the greatest affection and care and afterwards attended her own motherduring a tedious illness, in a manner that excited the admirationof all who knew her, after which she again lived in my uncle'shouse, where she was beloved by all the family. she was warmly attachedto the child who is now

dead and acted towards him like a most affectionatemother. for my own part, i do not hesitate to say that, notwithstandingall the evidence produced against her, i believe and rely onher perfect innocence. she had no temptation for such an action; as tothe bauble on which the chief proof rests, if she had earnestly desiredit, i should have willingly given it to her, so much do i esteemand value her." a murmur of approbation followed elizabeth'ssimple and powerful appeal, but it was excited by her generousinterference, and not in favour of poor justine, on whom the publicindignation was turned with

renewed violence, charging her with the blackestingratitude. she herself wept as elizabeth spoke, but she didnot answer. my own agitation and anguish was extreme during thewhole trial. i believed in her innocence; i knew it. could the demonwho had (i did not for a minute doubt) murdered my brother also inhis hellish sport have betrayed the innocent to death and ignominy?i could not sustain the horror of my situation, and when i perceivedthat the popular voice and the countenances of the judges had alreadycondemned my unhappy victim, i rushed out of the court in agony. the torturesof the accused did

not equal mine; she was sustained by innocence,but the fangs of remorse tore my bosom and would not forgotheir hold. i passed a night of unmingled wretchedness.in the morning i went to the court; my lips and throat were parched.i dared not ask the fatal question, but i was known, and the officerguessed the cause of my visit. the ballots had been thrown; they wereall black, and justine was condemned. i cannot pretend to describe what i then felt.i had before experienced sensations of horror, and i haveendeavoured to bestow upon

them adequate expressions, but words cannotconvey an idea of the heart—sickening despair that i then endured.the person to whom i addressed myself added that justine had alreadyconfessed her guilt. "that evidence," he observed, "was hardlyrequired in so glaring a case, but i am glad of it, and, indeed, noneof our judges like to condemn a criminal upon circumstantial evidence,be it ever so decisive." this was strange and unexpected intelligence;what could it mean? had my eyes deceived me? and was i really as madas the whole world would

believe me to be if i disclosed the objectof my suspicions? i hastened to return home, and elizabeth eagerlydemanded the result. "my cousin," replied i, "it is decided asyou may have expected; all judges had rather that ten innocent shouldsuffer than that one guilty should escape. but she has confessed." this was a dire blow to poor elizabeth, whohad relied with firmness upon justine's innocence. "alas!" said she."how shall i ever again believe in human goodness? justine, whom iloved and esteemed as my sister, how could she put on those smilesof innocence only to betray?

her mild eyes seemed incapable of any severityor guile, and yet she has committed a murder." soon after we heard that the poor victim hadexpressed a desire to see my cousin. my father wished her not to gobut said that he left it to her own judgment and feelings to decide. "yes,"said elizabeth, "i will go, although she is guilty; and you,victor, shall accompany me; i cannot go alone." the idea of this visit wastorture to me, yet i could not refuse. we entered the gloomy prisonchamber and beheld justine sitting on some straw at the fartherend; her hands were

manacled, and her head rested on her knees.she rose on seeing us enter, and when we were left alone with her,she threw herself at the feet of elizabeth, weeping bitterly. my cousinwept also. "oh, justine!" said she. "why did you robme of my last consolation? i relied on your innocence, and although iwas then very wretched, i was not so miserable as i am now." "and do you also believe that i am so very,very wicked? do you also join with my enemies to crush me, to condemnme as a murderer?" her voice was suffocated with sobs.

"rise, my poor girl," said elizabeth; "whydo you kneel, if you are innocent? i am not one of your enemies, ibelieved you guiltless, notwithstanding every evidence, until i heardthat you had yourself declared your guilt. that report, you say,is false; and be assured, dear justine, that nothing can shake my confidencein you for a moment, but your own confession." "i did confess, but i confessed a lie. i confessed,that i might obtain absolution; but now that falsehoodlies heavier at my heart than all my other sins. the god of heaven forgiveme! ever since i was

condemned, my confessor has besieged me; hethreatened and menaced, until i almost began to think that i was themonster that he said i was. he threatened excommunication and hellfire in my last moments if i continued obdurate. dear lady, i had noneto support me; all looked on me as a wretch doomed to ignominy and perdition.what could i do? in an evil hour i subscribed to a lie; andnow only am i truly miserable." she paused, weeping, and then continued, "ithought with horror, my sweet lady, that you should believe your justine,whom your blessed

aunt had so highly honoured, and whom youloved, was a creature capable of a crime which none but the devil himselfcould have perpetrated. dear william! dearest blessed child! i soonshall see you again in heaven, where we shall all be happy; and thatconsoles me, going as i am to suffer ignominy and death." "oh, justine! forgive me for having for onemoment distrusted you. why did you confess? but do not mourn, deargirl. do not fear. i will proclaim, i will prove your innocence.i will melt the stony hearts of your enemies by my tears and prayers.you shall not die!

you, my playfellow, my companion, my sister,perish on the scaffold! no! no! i never could survive so horriblea misfortune." justine shook her head mournfully. "i do notfear to die," she said; "that pang is past. god raises my weaknessand gives me courage to endure the worst. i leave a sad and bitterworld; and if you remember me and think of me as of one unjustly condemned,i am resigned to the fate awaiting me. learn from me, dear lady,to submit in patience to the will of heaven!" during this conversation i had retired toa corner of the prison room,

where i could conceal the horrid anguish thatpossessed me. despair! who dared talk of that? the poor victim, whoon the morrow was to pass the awful boundary between life and death,felt not, as i did, such deep and bitter agony. i gnashed my teethand ground them together, uttering a groan that came from my inmostsoul. justine started. when she saw who it was, she approached me andsaid, "dear sir, you are very kind to visit me; you, i hope, do not believethat i am guilty?" i could not answer. "no, justine," said elizabeth;"he is more convinced of your innocence than i was, foreven when he heard that you

had confessed, he did not credit it." "i truly thank him. in these last momentsi feel the sincerest gratitude towards those who think of me withkindness. how sweet is the affection of others to such a wretch asi am! it removes more than half my misfortune, and i feel as if i coulddie in peace now that my innocence is acknowledged by you, dear lady,and your cousin." thus the poor sufferer tried to comfort othersand herself. she indeed gained the resignation she desired. but i,the true murderer, felt the never—dying worm alive in my bosom, whichallowed of no hope or

consolation. elizabeth also wept and was unhappy,but hers also was the misery of innocence, which, like a cloudthat passes over the fair moon, for a while hides but cannot tarnishits brightness. anguish and despair had penetrated into the core of myheart; i bore a hell within me which nothing could extinguish. we stayedseveral hours with justine, and it was with great difficultythat elizabeth could tear herself away. "i wish," cried she, "that iwere to die with you; i cannot live in this world of misery." justine assumed an air of cheerfulness, whileshe with difficulty

repressed her bitter tears. she embraced elizabethand said in a voice of half—suppressed emotion, "farewell, sweetlady, dearest elizabeth, my beloved and only friend; may heaven, inits bounty, bless and preserve you; may this be the last misfortunethat you will ever suffer! live, and be happy, and make othersso." and on the morrow justine died. elizabeth'sheart—rending eloquence failed to move the judges from their settledconviction in the criminality of the saintly sufferer. my passionateand indignant appeals were lost upon them. and when i receivedtheir cold answers

and heard the harsh, unfeeling reasoning ofthese men, my purposed avowal died away on my lips. thus i mightproclaim myself a madman, but not revoke the sentence passed upon mywretched victim. she perished on the scaffold as a murderess! from the tortures of my own heart, i turnedto contemplate the deep and voiceless grief of my elizabeth. this alsowas my doing! and my father's woe, and the desolation of that lateso smiling home all was the work of my thrice—accursed hands! yeweep, unhappy ones, but these are not your last tears! again shall you raisethe funeral wail, and

the sound of your lamentations shall againand again be heard! frankenstein, your son, your kinsman, yourearly, much—loved friend; he who would spend each vital drop of blood foryour sakes, who has no thought nor sense of joy except as it is mirroredalso in your dear countenances, who would fill the air withblessings and spend his life in serving you——he bids you weep, to shedcountless tears; happy beyond his hopes, if thus inexorable fate be satisfied,and if the destruction pause before the peace of the grave have succeededto your sad torments! thus spoke my prophetic soul, as, torn byremorse, horror, and despair,

i beheld those i loved spend vain sorrow uponthe graves of william and justine, the first hapless victims to my unhallowedarts. chapter 9 nothing is more painful to the human mindthan, after the feelings have been worked up by a quick succession of events,the dead calmness of inaction and certainty which follows and deprivesthe soul both of hope and fear. justine died, she rested, and iwas alive. the blood flowed freely in my veins, but a weight of despairand remorse pressed on my heart which nothing could remove. sleep fledfrom my eyes; i wandered

like an evil spirit, for i had committed deedsof mischief beyond description horrible, and more, much more(i persuaded myself) was yet behind. yet my heart overflowed with kindnessand the love of virtue. i had begun life with benevolent intentionsand thirsted for the moment when i should put them in practice and makemyself useful to my fellow beings. now all was blasted; instead of thatserenity of conscience which allowed me to look back upon the pastwith self—satisfaction, and from thence to gather promise of new hopes,i was seized by remorse and the sense of guilt, which hurried me awayto a hell of intense tortures

such as no language can describe. this state of mind preyed upon my health,which had perhaps never entirely recovered from the first shock ithad sustained. i shunned the face of man; all sound of joy or complacencywas torture to me; solitude was my only consolation——deep,dark, deathlike solitude. my father observed with pain the alterationperceptible in my disposition and habits and endeavoured byarguments deduced from the feelings of his serene conscience and guiltlesslife to inspire me with fortitude and awaken in me the courage todispel the dark cloud which

brooded over me. "do you think, victor," saidhe, "that i do not suffer also? no one could love a child morethan i loved your brother"——tears came into his eyes ashe spoke——"but is it not a duty to the survivors that we should refrain fromaugmenting their unhappiness by an appearance of immoderategrief? it is also a duty owed to yourself, for excessive sorrow preventsimprovement or enjoyment, or even the discharge of dailyusefulness, without which no man is fit for society." this advice, although good, was totally inapplicableto my case; i

should have been the first to hide my griefand console my friends if remorse had not mingled its bitterness, andterror its alarm, with my other sensations. now i could only answermy father with a look of despair and endeavour to hide myself fromhis view. about this time we retired to our house atbelrive. this change was particularly agreeable to me. the shuttingof the gates regularly at ten o'clock and the impossibility of remainingon the lake after that hour had rendered our residence within thewalls of geneva very irksome to me. i was now free. often, after the restof the family had

retired for the night, i took the boat andpassed many hours upon the water. sometimes, with my sails set, i wascarried by the wind; and sometimes, after rowing into the middle ofthe lake, i left the boat to pursue its own course and gave way to my ownmiserable reflections. i was often tempted, when all was at peace aroundme, and i the only unquiet thing that wandered restless in ascene so beautiful and heavenly——if i except some bat, or thefrogs, whose harsh and interrupted croaking was heard only when iapproached the shore——often, i say, i was tempted to plunge into the silentlake, that the waters

might close over me and my calamities forever.but i was restrained, when i thought of the heroic and sufferingelizabeth, whom i tenderly loved, and whose existence was bound up inmine. i thought also of my father and surviving brother; should i bymy base desertion leave them exposed and unprotected to the malice of thefiend whom i had let loose among them? at these moments i wept bitterly and wishedthat peace would revisit my mind only that i might afford them consolationand happiness. but that could not be. remorse extinguished every hope.i had been the author

of unalterable evils, and i lived in dailyfear lest the monster whom i had created should perpetrate some new wickedness.i had an obscure feeling that all was not over and that hewould still commit some signal crime, which by its enormity shouldalmost efface the recollection of the past. there was alwaysscope for fear so long as anything i loved remained behind. my abhorrenceof this fiend cannot be conceived. when i thought of him i gnashedmy teeth, my eyes became inflamed, and i ardently wished to extinguishthat life which i had so thoughtlessly bestowed. when i reflected onhis crimes and malice, my

hatred and revenge burst all bounds of moderation.i would have made a pilgrimage to the highest peak of the andes,could i when there have precipitated him to their base. i wished tosee him again, that i might wreak the utmost extent of abhorrenceon his head and avenge the deaths of william and justine. our house wasthe house of mourning. my father's health was deeply shaken by the horrorof the recent events. elizabeth was sad and desponding; she no longertook delight in her ordinary occupations; all pleasure seemedto her sacrilege toward the dead; eternal woe and tears she then thoughtwas the just tribute she

should pay to innocence so blasted and destroyed.she was no longer that happy creature who in earlier youth wanderedwith me on the banks of the lake and talked with ecstasy of ourfuture prospects. the first of those sorrows which are sent to wean usfrom the earth had visited her, and its dimming influence quenched herdearest smiles. "when i reflect, my dear cousin," said she,"on the miserable death of justine moritz, i no longer see the worldand its works as they before appeared to me. before, i looked upon theaccounts of vice and injustice that i read in books or heard fromothers as tales of ancient

days or imaginary evils; at least they wereremote and more familiar to reason than to the imagination; but now miseryhas come home, and men appear to me as monsters thirsting for eachother's blood. yet i am certainly unjust. everybody believed thatpoor girl to be guilty; and if she could have committed the crime forwhich she suffered, assuredly she would have been the most depraved of humancreatures. for the sake of a few jewels, to have murdered the sonof her benefactor and friend, a child whom she had nursed from its birth,and appeared to love as if it had been her own! i could not consent tothe death of any human

being, but certainly i should have thoughtsuch a creature unfit to remain in the society of men. but she wasinnocent. i know, i feel she was innocent; you are of the same opinion,and that confirms me. alas! victor, when falsehood can look so likethe truth, who can assure themselves of certain happiness? ifeel as if i were walking on the edge of a precipice, towards which thousandsare crowding and endeavouring to plunge me into the abyss.william and justine were assassinated, and the murderer escapes; hewalks about the world free, and perhaps respected. but even if i werecondemned to suffer on the

scaffold for the same crimes, i would notchange places with such a wretch." i listened to this discourse with the extremestagony. i, not in deed, but in effect, was the true murderer. elizabethread my anguish in my countenance, and kindly taking my hand, said,"my dearest friend, you must calm yourself. these events have affectedme, god knows how deeply; but i am not so wretched as you are.there is an expression of despair, and sometimes of revenge, in yourcountenance that makes me tremble. dear victor, banish these dark passions.remember the

friends around you, who centre all their hopesin you. have we lost the power of rendering you happy? ah! whilewe love, while we are true to each other, here in this land of peaceand beauty, your native country, we may reap every tranquil blessing——whatcan disturb our peace?" and could not such words from her whom i fondlyprized before every other gift of fortune suffice to chase awaythe fiend that lurked in my heart? even as she spoke i drew near to her,as if in terror, lest at that very moment the destroyer had been nearto rob me of her.

thus not the tenderness of friendship, northe beauty of earth, nor of heaven, could redeem my soul from woe; thevery accents of love were ineffectual. i was encompassed by a cloudwhich no beneficial influence could penetrate. the wounded deerdragging its fainting limbs to some untrodden brake, there to gazeupon the arrow which had pierced it, and to die, was but a type ofme. sometimes i could cope with the sullen despairthat overwhelmed me, but sometimes the whirlwind passions of my souldrove me to seek, by bodily exercise and by change of place, some relieffrom my intolerable

sensations. it was during an access of thiskind that i suddenly left my home, and bending my steps towards thenear alpine valleys, sought in the magnificence, the eternity of suchscenes, to forget myself and my ephemeral, because human, sorrows. my wanderingswere directed towards the valley of chamounix. i had visitedit frequently during my boyhood. six years had passed since then:_i_ was a wreck, but nought had changed in those savage and enduring scenes. i performed the first part of my journey onhorseback. i afterwards hired a mule, as the more sure—footed andleast liable to receive

injury on these rugged roads. the weatherwas fine; it was about the middle of the month of august, nearly twomonths after the death of justine, that miserable epoch from which idated all my woe. the weight upon my spirit was sensibly lightenedas i plunged yet deeper in the ravine of arve. the immense mountainsand precipices that overhung me on every side, the sound of the river ragingamong the rocks, and the dashing of the waterfalls around spokeof a power mighty as omnipotence——and i ceased to fear or tobend before any being less almighty than that which had created and ruledthe elements, here

displayed in their most terrific guise. still,as i ascended higher, the valley assumed a more magnificent andastonishing character. ruined castles hanging on the precipices ofpiny mountains, the impetuous arve, and cottages every here andthere peeping forth from among the trees formed a scene of singularbeauty. but it was augmented and rendered sublime by the mightyalps, whose white and shining pyramids and domes towered above all,as belonging to another earth, the habitations of another race ofbeings. i passed the bridge of pelissier, where theravine, which the river

forms, opened before me, and i began to ascendthe mountain that overhangs it. soon after, i entered the valleyof chamounix. this valley is more wonderful and sublime, butnot so beautiful and picturesque as that of servox, through whichi had just passed. the high and snowy mountains were its immediateboundaries, but i saw no more ruined castles and fertile fields. immenseglaciers approached the road; i heard the rumbling thunder ofthe falling avalanche and marked the smoke of its passage. mont blanc,the supreme and magnificent mont blanc, raised itself fromthe surrounding aiguilles,

and its tremendous dome overlooked the valley. a tingling long—lost sense of pleasure oftencame across me during this journey. some turn in the road, some new objectsuddenly perceived and recognized, reminded me of days gone by, andwere associated with the lighthearted gaiety of boyhood. the very windswhispered in soothing accents, and maternal nature bade me weepno more. then again the kindly influence ceased to act——i foundmyself fettered again to grief and indulging in all the misery of reflection.then i spurred on my animal, striving so to forget the world, myfears, and more than all,

myself——or, in a more desperate fashion,i alighted and threw myself on the grass, weighed down by horror and despair. at length i arrived at the village of chamounix.exhaustion succeeded to the extreme fatigue both of body and ofmind which i had endured. for a short space of time i remained at thewindow watching the pallid lightnings that played above mont blanc andlistening to the rushing of the arve, which pursued its noisy way beneath.the same lulling sounds acted as a lullaby to my too keen sensations;when i placed my head upon my pillow, sleep crept over me; i feltit as it came and blessed

the giver of oblivion. chapter 10 i spent the following day roaming throughthe valley. i stood beside the sources of the arveiron, which take theirrise in a glacier, that with slow pace is advancing down from thesummit of the hills to barricade the valley. the abrupt sides ofvast mountains were before me; the icy wall of the glacier overhung me;a few shattered pines were scattered around; and the solemn silence ofthis glorious presence—chamber of imperial nature wasbroken only by the brawling

waves or the fall of some vast fragment, thethunder sound of the avalanche or the cracking, reverberated alongthe mountains, of the accumulated ice, which, through the silentworking of immutable laws, was ever and anon rent and torn, as if ithad been but a plaything in their hands. these sublime and magnificentscenes afforded me the greatest consolation that i was capable ofreceiving. they elevated me from all littleness of feeling, and althoughthey did not remove my grief, they subdued and tranquillized it.in some degree, also, they diverted my mind from the thoughts over whichit had brooded for the

last month. i retired to rest at night; myslumbers, as it were, waited on and ministered to by the assemblanceof grand shapes which i had contemplated during the day. they congregatedround me; the unstained snowy mountain—top, the glitteringpinnacle, the pine woods, and ragged bare ravine, the eagle, soaringamidst the clouds——they all gathered round me and bade me be at peace. where had they fled when the next morningi awoke? all of soul—inspiriting fled with sleep, and darkmelancholy clouded every thought. the rain was pouring in torrents,and thick mists hid the

summits of the mountains, so that i even sawnot the faces of those mighty friends. still i would penetrate theirmisty veil and seek them in their cloudy retreats. what were rain andstorm to me? my mule was brought to the door, and i resolved to ascendto the summit of montanvert. i remembered the effect that theview of the tremendous and ever—moving glacier had produced uponmy mind when i first saw it. it had then filled me with a sublime ecstasythat gave wings to the soul and allowed it to soar from the obscureworld to light and joy. the sight of the awful and majestic in naturehad indeed always the

effect of solemnizing my mind and causingme to forget the passing cares of life. i determined to go withouta guide, for i was well acquainted with the path, and the presenceof another would destroy the solitary grandeur of the scene. the ascent is precipitous, but the path iscut into continual and short windings, which enable you to surmount theperpendicularity of the mountain. it is a scene terrifically desolate.in a thousand spots the traces of the winter avalanche may beperceived, where trees lie broken and strewed on the ground, some entirelydestroyed, others bent,

leaning upon the jutting rocks of the mountainor transversely upon other trees. the path, as you ascend higher,is intersected by ravines of snow, down which stones continually rollfrom above; one of them is particularly dangerous, as the slightest sound,such as even speaking in a loud voice, produces a concussion ofair sufficient to draw destruction upon the head of the speaker.the pines are not tall or luxuriant, but they are sombre and add anair of severity to the scene. i looked on the valley beneath; vast mistswere rising from the rivers which ran through it and curling in thickwreaths around the opposite

mountains, whose summits were hid in the uniformclouds, while rain poured from the dark sky and added to themelancholy impression i received from the objects around me. alas!why does man boast of sensibilities superior to those apparent inthe brute; it only renders them more necessary beings. if our impulseswere confined to hunger, thirst, and desire, we might be nearly free;but now we are moved by every wind that blows and a chance word orscene that that word may convey to us. we rest; a dream has power to poison sleep.we rise; one wand'ring thought pollutes the

day.we feel, conceive, or reason; laugh or weep, embrace fond woe, or cast our cares away;it is the same: for, be it joy or sorrow, the path of its departure still is free.man's yesterday may ne'er be like his morrow; nought may endure but mutability! it was nearly noon when i arrived at the topof the ascent. for some time i sat upon the rock that overlooks thesea of ice. a mist covered both that and the surrounding mountains. presentlya breeze dissipated the cloud, and i descended upon the glacier.the surface is very uneven, rising like the waves of a troubledsea, descending low, and

interspersed by rifts that sink deep. thefield of ice is almost a league in width, but i spent nearly two hoursin crossing it. the opposite mountain is a bare perpendicularrock. from the side where i now stood montanvert was exactly opposite,at the distance of a league; and above it rose mont blanc, in awful majesty.i remained in a recess of the rock, gazing on this wonderful andstupendous scene. the sea, or rather the vast river of ice, wound amongits dependent mountains, whose aerial summits hung over its recesses.their icy and glittering peaks shone in the sunlight over the clouds.my heart, which was

before sorrowful, now swelled with somethinglike joy; i exclaimed, "wandering spirits, if indeed ye wander, anddo not rest in your narrow beds, allow me this faint happiness, or takeme, as your companion, away from the joys of life." as i said this i suddenly beheld the figureof a man, at some distance, advancing towards me with superhuman speed.he bounded over the crevices in the ice, among which i had walkedwith caution; his stature, also, as he approached, seemed toexceed that of man. i was troubled; a mist came over my eyes, and ifelt a faintness seize me,

but i was quickly restored by the cold galeof the mountains. i perceived, as the shape came nearer (sighttremendous and abhorred!) that it was the wretch whom i had created.i trembled with rage and horror, resolving to wait his approach andthen close with him in mortal combat. he approached; his countenancebespoke bitter anguish, combined with disdain and malignity, whileits unearthly ugliness rendered it almost too horrible for humaneyes. but i scarcely observed this; rage and hatred had at firstdeprived me of utterance, and i recovered only to overwhelm him withwords expressive of furious

detestation and contempt. "devil," i exclaimed, "do you dare approachme? and do not you fear the fierce vengeance of my arm wreaked onyour miserable head? begone, vile insect! or rather, stay, that i may trampleyou to dust! and, oh! that i could, with the extinction of yourmiserable existence, restore those victims whom you have so diabolicallymurdered!" "i expected this reception," said the daemon."all men hate the wretched; how, then, must i be hated, whoam miserable beyond all living things! yet you, my creator, detestand spurn me, thy creature,

to whom thou art bound by ties only dissolubleby the annihilation of one of us. you purpose to kill me. how dareyou sport thus with life? do your duty towards me, and i will do minetowards you and the rest of mankind. if you will comply with my conditions,i will leave them and you at peace; but if you refuse, i will glutthe maw of death, until it be satiated with the blood of your remainingfriends." "abhorred monster! fiend that thou art! thetortures of hell are too mild a vengeance for thy crimes. wretcheddevil! you reproach me with your creation, come on, then, that i may extinguishthe spark which i

so negligently bestowed." my rage was without bounds; i sprang on him,impelled by all the feelings which can arm one being against theexistence of another. he easily eluded me and said, "be calm! i entreat you to hear me beforeyou give vent to your hatred on my devoted head. have i not suffered enough,that you seek to increase my misery? life, although it mayonly be an accumulation of anguish, is dear to me, and i will defendit. remember, thou hast made me more powerful than thyself; my height issuperior to thine, my

joints more supple. but i will not be temptedto set myself in opposition to thee. i am thy creature, andi will be even mild and docile to my natural lord and king if thouwilt also perform thy part, the which thou owest me. oh, frankenstein,be not equitable to every other and trample upon me alone, to whom thyjustice, and even thy clemency and affection, is most due. rememberthat i am thy creature; i ought to be thy adam, but i am rather thefallen angel, whom thou drivest from joy for no misdeed. everywherei see bliss, from which i alone am irrevocably excluded. i was benevolentand good; misery made

me a fiend. make me happy, and i shall againbe virtuous." "begone! i will not hear you. there can beno community between you and me; we are enemies. begone, or let ustry our strength in a fight, in which one must fall." "how can i move thee? will no entreaties causethee to turn a favourable eye upon thy creature, who imploresthy goodness and compassion? believe me, frankenstein, i wasbenevolent; my soul glowed with love and humanity; but am i not alone,miserably alone? you, my creator, abhor me; what hope can i gatherfrom your fellow creatures,

who owe me nothing? they spurn and hate me.the desert mountains and dreary glaciers are my refuge. i have wanderedhere many days; the caves of ice, which i only do not fear, area dwelling to me, and the only one which man does not grudge. thesebleak skies i hail, for they are kinder to me than your fellow beings.if the multitude of mankind knew of my existence, they would do as youdo, and arm themselves for my destruction. shall i not then hate themwho abhor me? i will keep no terms with my enemies. i am miserable,and they shall share my wretchedness. yet it is in your power to recompenseme, and deliver

them from an evil which it only remains foryou to make so great, that not only you and your family, but thousandsof others, shall be swallowed up in the whirlwinds of its rage.let your compassion be moved, and do not disdain me. listen to mytale; when you have heard that, abandon or commiserate me, as you shalljudge that i deserve. but hear me. the guilty are allowed, by humanlaws, bloody as they are, to speak in their own defence beforethey are condemned. listen to me, frankenstein. you accuse me of murder,and yet you would, with a satisfied conscience, destroy your own creature.oh, praise the

eternal justice of man! yet i ask you notto spare me; listen to me, and then, if you can, and if you will, destroythe work of your hands." "why do you call to my remembrance," i rejoined,"circumstances of which i shudder to reflect, that i have beenthe miserable origin and author? cursed be the day, abhorred devil,in which you first saw light! cursed (although i curse myself) bethe hands that formed you! you have made me wretched beyond expression.you have left me no power to consider whether i am just to you or not.begone! relieve me from the sight of your detested form."

"thus i relieve thee, my creator," he said,and placed his hated hands before my eyes, which i flung from me withviolence; "thus i take from thee a sight which you abhor. still thou canstlisten to me and grant me thy compassion. by the virtues that i oncepossessed, i demand this from you. hear my tale; it is long and strange,and the temperature of this place is not fitting to your fine sensations;come to the hut upon the mountain. the sun is yet high in the heavens;before it descends to hide itself behind your snowy precipicesand illuminate another world, you will have heard my story and candecide. on you it rests,

whether i quit forever the neighbourhood ofman and lead a harmless life, or become the scourge of your fellowcreatures and the author of your own speedy ruin." as he said this he led the way across theice; i followed. my heart was full, and i did not answer him, but asi proceeded, i weighed the various arguments that he had used and determinedat least to listen to his tale. i was partly urged by curiosity,and compassion confirmed my resolution. i had hitherto supposed him tobe the murderer of my brother, and i eagerly sought a confirmationor denial of this opinion.

for the first time, also, i felt what theduties of a creator towards his creature were, and that i ought to renderhim happy before i complained of his wickedness. these motivesurged me to comply with his demand. we crossed the ice, therefore,and ascended the opposite rock. the air was cold, and the rain againbegan to descend; we entered the hut, the fiend with an air ofexultation, i with a heavy heart and depressed spirits. but i consentedto listen, and seating myself by the fire which my odious companionhad lighted, he thus began his tale.

chapter 11 "it is with considerable difficulty that iremember the original era of my being; all the events of that period appearconfused and indistinct. a strange multiplicity of sensations seizedme, and i saw, felt, heard, and smelt at the same time; and it was, indeed,a long time before i learned to distinguish between the operationsof my various senses. by degrees, i remember, a stronger light pressedupon my nerves, so that i was obliged to shut my eyes. darkness thencame over me and troubled me, but hardly had i felt this when, by openingmy eyes, as i now

suppose, the light poured in upon me again.i walked and, i believe, descended, but i presently found a great alterationin my sensations. before, dark and opaque bodies had surroundedme, impervious to my touch or sight; but i now found that i couldwander on at liberty, with no obstacles which i could not either surmountor avoid. the light became more and more oppressive to me, andthe heat wearying me as i walked, i sought a place where i could receiveshade. this was the forest near ingolstadt; and here i lay bythe side of a brook resting from my fatigue, until i felt tormented byhunger and thirst. this

roused me from my nearly dormant state, andi ate some berries which i found hanging on the trees or lying on theground. i slaked my thirst at the brook, and then lying down, was overcomeby sleep. "it was dark when i awoke; i felt cold also,and half frightened, as it were, instinctively, finding myself so desolate.before i had quitted your apartment, on a sensation of cold, ihad covered myself with some clothes, but these were insufficient to secureme from the dews of night. i was a poor, helpless, miserable wretch;i knew, and could distinguish, nothing; but feeling pain invademe on all sides, i sat

down and wept. "soon a gentle light stole over the heavensand gave me a sensation of pleasure. i started up and beheld a radiantform rise from among the trees. [the moon] i gazed with a kind of wonder.it moved slowly, but it enlightened my path, and i again wentout in search of berries. i was still cold when under one of the treesi found a huge cloak, with which i covered myself, and sat down uponthe ground. no distinct ideas occupied my mind; all was confused.i felt light, and hunger, and thirst, and darkness; innumerable soundsrang in my ears, and on

all sides various scents saluted me; the onlyobject that i could distinguish was the bright moon, and i fixedmy eyes on that with pleasure. "several changes of day and night passed,and the orb of night had greatly lessened, when i began to distinguishmy sensations from each other. i gradually saw plainly the clear streamthat supplied me with drink and the trees that shaded me with theirfoliage. i was delighted when i first discovered that a pleasant sound,which often saluted my ears, proceeded from the throats of the littlewinged animals who had

often intercepted the light from my eyes.i began also to observe, with greater accuracy, the forms that surroundedme and to perceive the boundaries of the radiant roof of light whichcanopied me. sometimes i tried to imitate the pleasant songs of thebirds but was unable. sometimes i wished to express my sensationsin my own mode, but the uncouth and inarticulate sounds which brokefrom me frightened me into silence again. "the moon had disappeared from the night,and again, with a lessened form, showed itself, while i still remainedin the forest. my

sensations had by this time become distinct,and my mind received every day additional ideas. my eyes became accustomedto the light and to perceive objects in their right forms; i distinguishedthe insect from the herb, and by degrees, one herb from another.i found that the sparrow uttered none but harsh notes, whilstthose of the blackbird and thrush were sweet and enticing. "one day, when i was oppressed by cold, ifound a fire which had been left by some wandering beggars, and was overcomewith delight at the warmth i experienced from it. in my joy ithrust my hand into the live

embers, but quickly drew it out again witha cry of pain. how strange, i thought, that the same cause should producesuch opposite effects! i examined the materials of the fire, and tomy joy found it to be composed of wood. i quickly collected somebranches, but they were wet and would not burn. i was pained at this andsat still watching the operation of the fire. the wet wood whichi had placed near the heat dried and itself became inflamed. i reflectedon this, and by touching the various branches, i discovered the causeand busied myself in collecting a great quantity of wood, thati might dry it and have a

plentiful supply of fire. when night cameon and brought sleep with it, i was in the greatest fear lest my fireshould be extinguished. i covered it carefully with dry wood and leavesand placed wet branches upon it; and then, spreading my cloak, i layon the ground and sank into sleep. "it was morning when i awoke, and my firstcare was to visit the fire. i uncovered it, and a gentle breeze quicklyfanned it into a flame. i observed this also and contrived a fan ofbranches, which roused the embers when they were nearly extinguished.when night came again i

found, with pleasure, that the fire gave lightas well as heat and that the discovery of this element was useful tome in my food, for i found some of the offals that the travellers hadleft had been roasted, and tasted much more savoury than the berriesi gathered from the trees. i tried, therefore, to dress my food in thesame manner, placing it on the live embers. i found that the berrieswere spoiled by this operation, and the nuts and roots much improved. "food, however, became scarce, and i oftenspent the whole day searching in vain for a few acorns to assuagethe pangs of hunger. when

i found this, i resolved to quit the placethat i had hitherto inhabited, to seek for one where the few wantsi experienced would be more easily satisfied. in this emigrationi exceedingly lamented the loss of the fire which i had obtained throughaccident and knew not how to reproduce it. i gave several hours to theserious consideration of this difficulty, but i was obliged to relinquishall attempt to supply it, and wrapping myself up in my cloak, istruck across the wood towards the setting sun. i passed three daysin these rambles and at length discovered the open country. a greatfall of snow had taken

place the night before, and the fields wereof one uniform white; the appearance was disconsolate, and i found myfeet chilled by the cold damp substance that covered the ground. "it was about seven in the morning, and ilonged to obtain food and shelter; at length i perceived a small hut,on a rising ground, which had doubtless been built for the convenienceof some shepherd. this was a new sight to me, and i examined thestructure with great curiosity. finding the door open, i entered.an old man sat in it, near a fire, over which he was preparing hisbreakfast. he turned on

hearing a noise, and perceiving me, shriekedloudly, and quitting the hut, ran across the fields with a speed ofwhich his debilitated form hardly appeared capable. his appearance, differentfrom any i had ever before seen, and his flight somewhat surprisedme. but i was enchanted by the appearance of the hut; here the snowand rain could not penetrate; the ground was dry; and it presentedto me then as exquisite and divine a retreat as pandemonium appearedto the demons of hell after their sufferings in the lake of fire.i greedily devoured the remnants of the shepherd's breakfast, whichconsisted of bread, cheese,

milk, and wine; the latter, however, i didnot like. then, overcome by fatigue, i lay down among some straw and fellasleep. "it was noon when i awoke, and allured bythe warmth of the sun, which shone brightly on the white ground, i determinedto recommence my travels; and, depositing the remains of thepeasant's breakfast in a wallet i found, i proceeded across the fieldsfor several hours, until at sunset i arrived at a village. how miraculousdid this appear! the huts, the neater cottages, and stately housesengaged my admiration by turns. the vegetables in the gardens, themilk and cheese that i saw

placed at the windows of some of the cottages,allured my appetite. one of the best of these i entered, but i hadhardly placed my foot within the door before the children shrieked, andone of the women fainted. the whole village was roused; some fled, someattacked me, until, grievously bruised by stones and many otherkinds of missile weapons, i escaped to the open country and fearfullytook refuge in a low hovel, quite bare, and making a wretched appearanceafter the palaces i had beheld in the village. this hovel however,joined a cottage of a neat and pleasant appearance, but after my latedearly bought experience, i

dared not enter it. my place of refuge wasconstructed of wood, but so low that i could with difficulty sit uprightin it. no wood, however, was placed on the earth, which formed thefloor, but it was dry; and although the wind entered it by innumerablechinks, i found it an agreeable asylum from the snow and rain. "here, then, i retreated and lay down happyto have found a shelter, however miserable, from the inclemency ofthe season, and still more from the barbarity of man. as soon as morningdawned i crept from my kennel, that i might view the adjacent cottageand discover if i could

remain in the habitation i had found. it wassituated against the back of the cottage and surrounded on the sideswhich were exposed by a pig sty and a clear pool of water. one part wasopen, and by that i had crept in; but now i covered every creviceby which i might be perceived with stones and wood, yet in such a mannerthat i might move them on occasion to pass out; all the light i enjoyedcame through the sty, and that was sufficient for me. "having thus arranged my dwelling and carpetedit with clean straw, i retired, for i saw the figure of a man ata distance, and i remembered

too well my treatment the night before totrust myself in his power. i had first, however, provided for my sustenancefor that day by a loaf of coarse bread, which i purloined, and acup with which i could drink more conveniently than from my hand of thepure water which flowed by my retreat. the floor was a little raised,so that it was kept perfectly dry, and by its vicinity to thechimney of the cottage it was tolerably warm. "being thus provided, i resolved to residein this hovel until something should occur which might alter mydetermination. it was

indeed a paradise compared to the bleak forest,my former residence, the rain—dropping branches, and dank earth.i ate my breakfast with pleasure and was about to remove a plank toprocure myself a little water when i heard a step, and looking througha small chink, i beheld a young creature, with a pail on her head,passing before my hovel. the girl was young and of gentle demeanour, unlikewhat i have since found cottagers and farmhouse servants to be. yetshe was meanly dressed, a coarse blue petticoat and a linen jacket beingher only garb; her fair hair was plaited but not adorned: she lookedpatient yet sad. i lost

sight of her, and in about a quarter of anhour she returned bearing the pail, which was now partly filled withmilk. as she walked along, seemingly incommoded by the burden, a youngman met her, whose countenance expressed a deeper despondence.uttering a few sounds with an air of melancholy, he took the pail fromher head and bore it to the cottage himself. she followed, and they disappeared.presently i saw the young man again, with some tools in hishand, cross the field behind the cottage; and the girl was alsobusied, sometimes in the house and sometimes in the yard.

"on examining my dwelling, i found that oneof the windows of the cottage had formerly occupied a part of it,but the panes had been filled up with wood. in one of these was asmall and almost imperceptible chink through which the eyecould just penetrate. through this crevice a small room was visible,whitewashed and clean but very bare of furniture. in one corner,near a small fire, sat an old man, leaning his head on his hands ina disconsolate attitude. the young girl was occupied in arranging the cottage;but presently she took something out of a drawer, which employedher hands, and she sat

down beside the old man, who, taking up aninstrument, began to play and to produce sounds sweeter than the voiceof the thrush or the nightingale. it was a lovely sight, even tome, poor wretch who had never beheld aught beautiful before. the silverhair and benevolent countenance of the aged cottager won my reverence,while the gentle manners of the girl enticed my love. he playeda sweet mournful air which i perceived drew tears from the eyesof his amiable companion, of which the old man took no notice, until shesobbed audibly; he then pronounced a few sounds, and the fair creature,leaving her work, knelt

at his feet. he raised her and smiled withsuch kindness and affection that i felt sensations of a peculiar and overpoweringnature; they were a mixture of pain and pleasure, such as ihad never before experienced, either from hunger or cold, warmth or food;and i withdrew from the window, unable to bear these emotions. "soon after this the young man returned, bearingon his shoulders a load of wood. the girl met him at the door,helped to relieve him of his burden, and taking some of the fuel intothe cottage, placed it on the fire; then she and the youth went apartinto a nook of the cottage,

and he showed her a large loaf and a pieceof cheese. she seemed pleased and went into the garden for someroots and plants, which she placed in water, and then upon the fire. sheafterwards continued her work, whilst the young man went into the gardenand appeared busily employed in digging and pulling up roots.after he had been employed thus about an hour, the young woman joinedhim and they entered the cottage together. "the old man had, in the meantime, been pensive,but on the appearance of his companions he assumed a more cheerfulair, and they sat down to

eat. the meal was quickly dispatched. theyoung woman was again occupied in arranging the cottage, the oldman walked before the cottage in the sun for a few minutes, leaningon the arm of the youth. nothing could exceed in beauty the contrastbetween these two excellent creatures. one was old, with silver hairsand a countenance beaming with benevolence and love; the younger wasslight and graceful in his figure, and his features were moulded withthe finest symmetry, yet his eyes and attitude expressed the utmost sadnessand despondency. the old man returned to the cottage, and the youth,with tools different

from those he had used in the morning, directedhis steps across the fields. "night quickly shut in, but to my extremewonder, i found that the cottagers had a means of prolonging lightby the use of tapers, and was delighted to find that the setting of thesun did not put an end to the pleasure i experienced in watching my humanneighbours. in the evening the young girl and her companion were employedin various occupations which i did not understand; and the old managain took up the instrument which produced the divine soundsthat had enchanted me in

the morning. so soon as he had finished, theyouth began, not to play, but to utter sounds that were monotonous,and neither resembling the harmony of the old man's instrument nor thesongs of the birds; i since found that he read aloud, but at that timei knew nothing of the science of words or letters. "the family, after having been thus occupiedfor a short time, extinguished their lights and retired, asi conjectured, to rest." end of chapter 11�