These were wild and miserable thoughts, but I cannot
describe to you how the eternal twinkling of the stars
weighed upon me and how I listened to every blast
of wind as if it were a dull ugly siroc on its way
to consume me.
Morning dawned before I arrived at the village of
Chamounix; I took no rest, but returned immediately
to Geneva. Even in my own heart I could give
no expression to my sensations—they weighed
on me with a mountain’s weight and their excess
destroyed my agony beneath them. Thus I returned
home, and entering the house, presented myself to the
family. My haggard and wild appearance awoke
intense alarm, but I answered no question, scarcely
did I speak. I felt as if I were placed under
a ban—as if I had no right to claim their
sympathies—as if never more might I enjoy
companionship with them. Yet even thus I loved
them to adoration; and to save them, I resolved to
dedicate myself to my most abhorred task. The
prospect of such an occupation made every other circumstance
of existence pass before me like a dream, and that
thought only had to me the reality of life.
Chapter 18
Day after day, week after week, passed away on my
return to Geneva; and I could not collect the courage
to recommence my work. I feared the vengeance
of the disappointed fiend, yet I was unable to overcome
my repugnance to the task which was enjoined me.
I found that I could not compose a female without
again devoting several months to profound study and
laborious disquisition. I had heard of some discoveries
having been made by an English philosopher, the knowledge
of which was material to my success, and I sometimes
thought of obtaining my father’s consent to
visit England for this purpose; but I clung to every
pretence of delay and shrank from taking the first
step in an undertaking whose immediate necessity began
to appear less absolute to me. A change indeed
had taken place in me; my health, which had hitherto
declined, was now much restored; and my spirits, when
unchecked by the memory of my unhappy promise, rose
proportionably. My father saw this change with
pleasure, and he turned his thoughts towards the best
method of eradicating the remains of my melancholy,
which every now and then would return by fits, and
with a devouring blackness overcast the approaching
sunshine. At these moments I took refuge in
the most perfect solitude. I passed whole days
on the lake alone in a little boat, watching the clouds
and listening to the rippling of the waves, silent
and listless. But the fresh air and bright sun
seldom failed to restore me to some degree of composure,
and on my return I met the salutations of my friends
with a readier smile and a more cheerful heart.
It was after my return from one of these rambles that
my father, calling me aside, thus addressed me,
“I am happy to remark, my dear son, that you
have resumed your former pleasures and seem to be
returning to yourself. And yet you are still
unhappy and still avoid our society. For some
time I was lost in conjecture as to the cause of this,
but yesterday an idea struck me, and if it is well
founded, I conjure you to avow it. Reserve on
such a point would be not only useless, but draw down
treble misery on us all.”
Copyrights
Frankenstein from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
