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Page 72
After an interval I arose, and as if by instinct, crawled into the room
where the corpse of my beloved lay. There were women weeping around; I
hung over it and joined my sad tears to theirs; all this time no
distinct idea presented itself to my mind, but my thoughts rambled to
various subjects, reflecting confusedly on my misfortunes and their
cause. I was bewildered, in a cloud of wonder and horror. The death
of William, the execution of Justine, the murder of Clerval, and lastly
of my wife; even at that moment I knew not that my only remaining
friends were safe from the malignity of the fiend; my father even now
might be writhing under his grasp, and Ernest might be dead at his
feet. This idea made me shudder and recalled me to action. I started
up and resolved to return to Geneva with all possible speed.
There were no horses to be procured, and I must return by the lake; but
the wind was unfavourable, and the rain fell in torrents. However, it
was hardly morning, and I might reasonably hope to arrive by night. I
hired men to row and took an oar myself, for I had always experienced
relief from mental torment in bodily exercise. But the overflowing
misery I now felt, and the excess of agitation that I endured rendered
me incapable of any exertion. I threw down the oar, and leaning my
head upon my hands, gave way to every gloomy idea that arose. If I
looked up, I saw scenes which were familiar to me in my happier time
and which I had contemplated but the day before in the company of her
who was now but a shadow and a recollection. Tears streamed from my
eyes. The rain had ceased for a moment, and I saw the fish play in the
waters as they had done a few hours before; they had then been observed
by Elizabeth. Nothing is so painful to the human mind as a great and
sudden change. The sun might shine or the clouds might lower, but
nothing could appear to me as it had done the day before. A fiend had
snatched from me every hope of future happiness; no creature had ever
been so miserable as I was; so frightful an event is single in the
history of man. But why should I dwell upon the incidents that followed
this last overwhelming event? Mine has been a tale of horrors; I have
reached their acme, and what I must now relate can but be tedious to
you. Know that, one by one, my friends were snatched away; I was left
desolate. My own strength is exhausted, and I must tell, in a few
words, what remains of my hideous narration. I arrived at Geneva. My
father and Ernest yet lived, but the former sunk under the tidings that
I bore. I see him now, excellent and venerable old man! His eyes
wandered in vacancy, for they had lost their charm and their
delight--his Elizabeth, his more than daughter, whom he doted on with
all that affection which a man feels, who in the decline of life,
having few affections, clings more earnestly to those that remain.
Cursed, cursed be the fiend that brought misery on his grey hairs and
doomed him to waste in wretchedness! He could not live under the
horrors that were accumulated around him; the springs of existence
suddenly gave way; he was unable to rise from his bed, and in a few
days he died in my arms.
What then became of me? I know not; I lost sensation, and chains and
darkness were the only objects that pressed upon me. Sometimes,
indeed, I dreamt that I wandered in flowery meadows and pleasant vales
with the friends of my youth, but I awoke and found myself in a
dungeon. Melancholy followed, but by degrees I gained a clear
conception of my miseries and situation and was then released from my
prison. For they had called me mad, and during many months, as I
understood, a solitary cell had been my habitation.
Liberty, however, had been a useless gift to me, had I not, as I
awakened to reason, at the same time awakened to revenge. As the
memory of past misfortunes pressed upon me, I began to reflect on their
cause--the monster whom I had created, the miserable daemon whom I had
sent abroad into the world for my destruction. I was possessed by a
maddening rage when I thought of him, and desired and ardently prayed
that I might have him within my grasp to wreak a great and signal
revenge on his cursed head.
Nor did my hate long confine itself to useless wishes; I began to
reflect on the best means of securing him; and for this purpose, about
a month after my release, I repaired to a criminal judge in the town
and told him that I had an accusation to make, that I knew the
destroyer of my family, and that I required him to exert his whole
authority for the apprehension of the murderer. The magistrate
listened to me with attention and kindness.
"Be assured, sir," said he, "no pains or exertions on my part shall be
spared to discover the villain."
"I thank you," replied I; "listen, therefore, to the deposition that I
have to make. It is indeed a tale so strange that I should fear you
would not credit it were there not something in truth which, however
wonderful, forces conviction. The story is too connected to be
mistaken for a dream, and I have no motive for falsehood." My manner as
I thus addressed him was impressive but calm; I had formed in my own
heart a resolution to pursue my destroyer to death, and this purpose
quieted my agony and for an interval reconciled me to life. I now
related my history briefly but with firmness and precision, marking the
dates with accuracy and never deviating into invective or exclamation.
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