Франкенштейн

           Sometimes,indeed,Ifeltawishforhappinessandthoughtwithmelancholydelightofmybelovedcousinorlonged,withadevouringmaladiedupays,toseeoncemorethebluelakeandrapidRhone,thathadbeensodeartomeinearlychildhood;butmygeneralstateoffeelingwasatorporinwhichaprisonwasaswelcomearesidenceasthedivinestsceneinnature;andthesefitswereseldominterruptedbutbyparoxysmsofanguishanddespair.AtthesemomentsIoftenendeavouredtoputanendtotheexistenceIloathed,anditrequiredunceasingattendanceandvigilancetorestrainmefromcommittingsomedreadfulactofviolence.

           Yetonedutyremainedtome,therecollectionofwhichfinallytriumphedovermyselfishdespair.ItwasnecessarythatIshouldreturnwithoutdelaytoGeneva,theretowatchoverthelivesofthoseIsofondlylovedandtolieinwaitforthemurderer,thatifanychanceledmetotheplaceofhisconcealment,orifhedaredagaintoblastmebyhispresence,Imight,withunfailingaim,putanendtotheexistenceofthemonstrousimagewhichIhadenduedwiththemockeryofasoulstillmoremonstrous.Myfatherstilldesiredtodelayourdeparture,fearfulthatIcouldnotsustainthefatiguesofajourney,forIwasashatteredwreck—theshadowofahumanbeing.Mystrengthwasgone.Iwasamereskeleton,andfevernightanddaypreyeduponmywastedframe.Still,asIurgedourleavingIrelandwithsuchinquietudeandimpatience,myfatherthoughtitbesttoyield.WetookourpassageonboardavesselboundforHavre-de-GraceandsailedwithafairwindfromtheIrishshores.Itwasmidnight.Ilayonthedecklookingatthestarsandlisteningtothedashingofthewaves.IhailedthedarknessthatshutIrelandfrommysight,andmypulsebeatwithafeverishjoywhenIreflectedthatIshouldsoonseeGeneva.Thepastappearedtomeinthelightofafrightfuldream;