Chapter 23

It was eight o’clock when we landed; we walked for a short time on the shore, enjoying the transitory light, and then retired to the inn and contemplated the lovely scene of waters, woods, and mountains, obscured in darkness, yet still displaying their black outlines.

We landed at eight o’clock and walked along the shore for a short time, enjoying the fading light. Then we returned to the inn and gazed at the lovely scene of water, woods, and mountains. Darkness obscured them, but their black outlines were still visible.

The wind, which had fallen in the south, now rose with great violence in the west. The moon had reached her summit in the heavens and was beginning to descend; the clouds swept across it swifter than the flight of the vulture and dimmed her rays, while the lake reflected the scene of the busy heavens, rendered still busier by the restless waves that were beginning to rise. Suddenly a heavy storm of rain descended.

The wind had died down in the south, but now it rose fiercely in the west. The moon had reached its highest point in the sky and was beginning to descend. Clouds swept across it faster than a vulture in flight, dimming its light. The lake reflected the busy sky, made even busier by the restless waves beginning to rise. Suddenly, a heavy rainstorm broke.

I had been calm during the day, but so soon as night obscured the shapes of objects, a thousand fears arose in my mind. I was anxious and watchful, while my right hand grasped a pistol which was hidden in my bosom; every sound terrified me, but I resolved that I would sell my life dearly and not shrink from the conflict until my own life or that of my adversary was extinguished.

I had been calm during the day, but as soon as darkness hid the shapes of objects, a thousand fears filled my mind. I was anxious and alert, gripping a pistol hidden inside my coat with my right hand. Every sound terrified me, but I resolved to fight hard for my life. I would not give up until either my adversary or I was dead.

Elizabeth observed my agitation for some time in timid and fearful silence, but there was something in my glance which communicated terror to her, and trembling, she asked, “What is it that agitates you, my dear Victor? What is it you fear?”

Elizabeth watched my agitation for some time in timid, fearful silence. But something in my glance terrified her. Trembling, she asked, “What is upsetting you, my dear Victor? What are you afraid of?”

“Oh! Peace, peace, my love,” replied I; “this night, and all will be safe; but this night is dreadful, very dreadful.”

“Oh! Be calm, be calm, my love,” I replied. “After tonight, all will be safe. But tonight is dreadful, very dreadful.”

I passed an hour in this state of mind, when suddenly I reflected how fearful the combat which I momentarily expected would be to my wife, and I earnestly entreated her to retire, resolving not to join her until I had obtained some knowledge as to the situation of my enemy.

I spent an hour in this state of mind. Then I suddenly realized how frightening the fight I expected at any moment would be for my wife. I begged her to go to bed. I resolved not to join her until I knew something about my enemy's whereabouts.

She left me, and I continued some time walking up and down the passages of the house and inspecting every corner that might afford a retreat to my adversary. But I discovered no trace of him and was beginning to conjecture that some fortunate chance had intervened to prevent the execution of his menaces when suddenly I heard a shrill and dreadful scream. It came from the room into which Elizabeth had retired. As I heard it, the whole truth rushed into my mind, my arms dropped, the motion of every muscle and fibre was suspended; I could feel the blood trickling in my veins and tingling in the extremities of my limbs. This state lasted but for an instant; the scream was repeated, and I rushed into the room.

She left me, and I spent some time walking up and down the halls. I searched every corner where my enemy might hide. But I found no trace of him. I was beginning to think that some lucky chance had prevented him from carrying out his threats. Then I suddenly heard a shrill, dreadful scream. It came from the room where Elizabeth had gone. As I heard it, the whole truth rushed into my mind. My arms dropped, and every muscle and fiber in my body stopped moving. I could feel the blood trickling through my veins and tingling in my hands and feet. This lasted only an instant. The scream came again, and I rushed into the room.

Great God! Why did I not then expire! Why am I here to relate the destruction of the best hope and the purest creature on earth? She was there, lifeless and inanimate, thrown across the bed, her head hanging down and her pale and distorted features half covered by her hair. Everywhere I turn I see the same figure—her bloodless arms and relaxed form flung by the murderer on its bridal bier. Could I behold this and live? Alas! Life is obstinate and clings closest where it is most hated. For a moment only did I lose recollection; I fell senseless on the ground.

Great God! Why didn't I die then? Why am I here to tell of the destruction of my greatest hope, the purest creature on earth? She lay there, lifeless, thrown across the bed. Her head hung down, and her hair half covered her pale, distorted face. Everywhere I turn, I see her as she lay on her bridal deathbed, where the murderer had thrown her. Her arms were bloodless, and her body was limp. Could I see this and go on living? Alas! Life is stubborn and clings most tightly where it is most hated. I lost consciousness for only a moment and fell to the ground.

When I recovered I found myself surrounded by the people of the inn; their countenances expressed a breathless terror, but the horror of others appeared only as a mockery, a shadow of the feelings that oppressed me. I escaped from them to the room where lay the body of Elizabeth, my love, my wife, so lately living, so dear, so worthy. She had been moved from the posture in which I had first beheld her, and now, as she lay, her head upon her arm and a handkerchief thrown across her face and neck, I might have supposed her asleep. I rushed towards her and embraced her with ardour, but the deadly languor and coldness of the limbs told me that what I now held in my arms had ceased to be the Elizabeth whom I had loved and cherished. The murderous mark of the fiend’s grasp was on her neck, and the breath had ceased to issue from her lips.

When I came to, I found myself surrounded by the people at the inn. Their faces showed that they were breathless with terror. But their horror seemed only a mockery, a shadow of the feelings that overwhelmed me. I left them and went to the room where Elizabeth’s body lay. She was my love, my wife, so recently alive, so dear, so worthy. She had been moved from the position in which I had first seen her. Now her head rested on her arm, and a handkerchief covered her face and neck. I might have thought she was asleep. I rushed to her and held her passionately. But her limbs were so lifeless and cold that I knew she was no longer the Elizabeth I had loved and cherished. The murderous mark of the fiend’s grip was on her neck, and she no longer breathed.

While I still hung over her in the agony of despair, I happened to look up. The windows of the room had before been darkened, and I felt a kind of panic on seeing the pale yellow light of the moon illuminate the chamber. The shutters had been thrown back, and with a sensation of horror not to be described, I saw at the open window a figure the most hideous and abhorred. A grin was on the face of the monster; he seemed to jeer, as with his fiendish finger he pointed towards the corpse of my wife. I rushed towards the window, and drawing a pistol from my bosom, fired; but he eluded me, leaped from his station, and running with the swiftness of lightning, plunged into the lake.

As I leaned over her in the agony of despair, I happened to look up. The room’s windows had been darkened. I felt a kind of panic when I saw the pale yellow moonlight filling the room. The shutters had been thrown open. At the open window, I saw a hideous figure I hated more than any other. I cannot describe the horror I felt. The monster was grinning. He seemed to mock me as he pointed his fiendish finger at my wife’s corpse. I rushed toward the window, pulled a pistol from inside my coat, and fired. But he escaped me. He leaped from the window, ran with the speed of lightning, and plunged into the lake.

The report of the pistol brought a crowd into the room. I pointed to the spot where he had disappeared, and we followed the track with boats; nets were cast, but in vain. After passing several hours, we returned hopeless, most of my companions believing it to have been a form conjured up by my fancy. After having landed, they proceeded to search the country, parties going in different directions among the woods and vines.

The sound of the pistol brought a crowd into the room. I pointed to the spot where he had disappeared, and we followed his trail in boats. We cast nets, but found nothing. After several hours, we returned without hope. Most of my companions believed the figure had been a product of my imagination. After landing, they searched the countryside in groups, going in different directions among the woods and vines.

I attempted to accompany them and proceeded a short distance from the house, but my head whirled round, my steps were like those of a drunken man, I fell at last in a state of utter exhaustion; a film covered my eyes, and my skin was parched with the heat of fever. In this state I was carried back and placed on a bed, hardly conscious of what had happened; my eyes wandered round the room as if to seek something that I had lost.

I tried to go with them and made it a short distance from the house. But my head spun, and I staggered like a drunk. At last, I fell, completely exhausted. A film covered my eyes, and my skin was dry with fever. I was carried back and placed on a bed, hardly aware of what had happened. My eyes wandered around the room as if searching for something I had lost.

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.

After a while, I got up and, as if by instinct, crawled into the room where my beloved’s body lay. Women were weeping around her. I leaned over her body and joined them in tears. All this time, I could not form a clear thought. My mind wandered from one subject to another, dwelling confusedly on my misfortunes and their cause. I was bewildered, lost in a cloud of wonder and horror. I thought of William’s death, Justine’s execution, Clerval’s murder, and finally my wife’s. Even then, I did not know whether my only remaining friends were safe from the fiend’s malice. My father might be struggling in his grasp even now, and Ernest might be dead at his feet. This thought made me shudder and stirred me to action. I sprang up and resolved to return to Geneva as quickly as possible.

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.

No horses were available, so I had to return by the lake. But the wind was against us, and rain poured down. Still, it was barely morning, and I could reasonably hope to arrive by nightfall. I hired men to row and took an oar myself. Physical exercise had always relieved my mental torment. But I now felt such overwhelming misery and agitation that I could not make any effort. I threw down the oar, leaned my head on my hands, and gave in to every dark thought that came to me. If I looked up, I saw places I knew from happier times. I had looked at them only the day before, with the woman who was now only a shadow and a memory. Tears streamed from my eyes. The rain stopped for a moment, and I saw fish playing in the water, just as they had a few hours earlier. Elizabeth had watched them then. Nothing is so painful to the human mind as a great and sudden change. The sun might shine or the clouds might darken, but nothing could look to me as it had the day before. A fiend had snatched away every hope I had of future happiness. No one had ever been as miserable as I was. Such a terrible event is unique in human history.

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.

But why should I dwell on what happened after this last overwhelming event? My story has been full of horrors, and I have reached their peak. What I must tell you now can only be tedious. My friends were taken from me one by one, and I was left alone and desolate. My strength is exhausted, and I must tell the rest of my horrible story in a few words.

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.

I arrived in Geneva. My father and Ernest were still alive, but my father was crushed by the news I brought. I can see him now, that wonderful and venerable old man! His eyes stared blankly, for they had lost the one who had charmed and delighted them. His Elizabeth had been more than a daughter to him. He had doted on her with all the affection of a man who, late in life, has few loved ones left and clings all the more closely to them. Cursed, cursed be the fiend who brought misery to his old age and condemned him to waste away in sorrow! My father could not survive the horrors that had piled up around him. His life suddenly began to fail. He could not rise from his bed, and within 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.

What happened to me then? I do not know. I lost all feeling, and all I knew was chains and darkness. Sometimes I dreamed that I wandered through flower-filled meadows and pleasant valleys with the friends of my youth. But I woke to find myself in a dungeon. Sadness followed, but gradually I came to understand my misery and my situation clearly. Then I was released from prison. They had called me mad, and as I understood it, I had spent many months in a solitary cell.

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 dæmon 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.

Freedom, however, would have been a useless gift to me if I had not awakened to revenge as I regained my reason. As memories of past misfortunes weighed on me, I began to think about their cause. It was the monster I had created, the wretched demon I had sent into the world to destroy me. Thinking of him filled me with maddening rage. I longed and prayed fervently to get him in my grasp and take terrible and unmistakable 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.

My hatred did not remain confined to useless wishes for long. I began to think about the best way to capture him. About a month after my release, I went to a criminal judge in town. I told him I had an accusation to make. I knew who had destroyed my family, and I demanded that he use his full authority to arrest 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.”

The magistrate listened to me attentively and kindly. “I assure you, sir,” he said, “I will do everything I can to find 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.

“Thank you,” I replied. “Then listen to the statement I have to make. My story is so strange that I would fear you would not believe it. But there is something about the truth that, however extraordinary, compels belief. The story is too coherent to be mistaken for a dream, and I have no reason to lie.” I spoke in a way that was both serious and calm. In my heart, I had resolved to pursue my destroyer to the death. This purpose quieted my agony and, for a time, reconciled me to life. I then told my story briefly, but with firmness and precision. I gave the dates accurately and never veered into insults or outbursts.

The magistrate appeared at first perfectly incredulous, but as I continued he became more attentive and interested; I saw him sometimes shudder with horror; at others a lively surprise, unmingled with disbelief, was painted on his countenance.

At first, the magistrate seemed completely disbelieving. But as I continued, he became more attentive and interested. I saw him sometimes shudder with horror. At other times, his face showed vivid surprise, with no trace of disbelief.

When I had concluded my narration, I said, “This is the being whom I accuse and for whose seizure and punishment I call upon you to exert your whole power. It is your duty as a magistrate, and I believe and hope that your feelings as a man will not revolt from the execution of those functions on this occasion.”

When I had finished telling my story, I said, “This is the being I accuse. I ask you to use all your power to have him seized and punished. It is your duty as a magistrate. I believe and hope that your feelings as a man will not prevent you from carrying out that duty in this case.”

This address caused a considerable change in the physiognomy of my own auditor. He had heard my story with that half kind of belief that is given to a tale of spirits and supernatural events; but when he was called upon to act officially in consequence, the whole tide of his incredulity returned. He, however, answered mildly, “I would willingly afford you every aid in your pursuit, but the creature of whom you speak appears to have powers which would put all my exertions to defiance. Who can follow an animal which can traverse the sea of ice and inhabit caves and dens where no man would venture to intrude? Besides, some months have elapsed since the commission of his crimes, and no one can conjecture to what place he has wandered or what region he may now inhabit.”

My words brought a considerable change to my listener’s expression. He had listened to my story with the half belief one gives to tales of spirits and supernatural events. But when he was asked to take official action because of it, all his disbelief returned. Still, he answered mildly, “I would gladly give you every help in your pursuit. But the creature you describe seems to have powers that would defeat all my efforts. Who can follow an animal that can cross the sea of ice? It can live in caves and dens where no man would dare to enter. Besides, some months have passed since he committed his crimes. No one can guess where he has wandered or what region he may now live in.”

“I do not doubt that he hovers near the spot which I inhabit, and if he has indeed taken refuge in the Alps, he may be hunted like the chamois and destroyed as a beast of prey. But I perceive your thoughts; you do not credit my narrative and do not intend to pursue my enemy with the punishment which is his desert.”

“I have no doubt that he is lurking near where I live. If he has indeed taken refuge in the Alps, he may be hunted like a chamois and destroyed like a predator. But I can tell what you are thinking. You do not believe my story, and you do not intend to pursue my enemy and give him the punishment he deserves.”

As I spoke, rage sparkled in my eyes; the magistrate was intimidated. “You are mistaken,” said he. “I will exert myself, and if it is in my power to seize the monster, be assured that he shall suffer punishment proportionate to his crimes. But I fear, from what you have yourself described to be his properties, that this will prove impracticable; and thus, while every proper measure is pursued, you should make up your mind to disappointment.”

As I spoke, my eyes flashed with rage, and the magistrate was intimidated. “You are mistaken,” he said. “I will do my best. If I can capture the monster, I assure you he will be punished in proportion to his crimes. But from what you have told me about his abilities, I fear capturing him will prove impossible. So, while we take every proper measure, you should prepare yourself for disappointment.”

“That cannot be; but all that I can say will be of little avail. My revenge is of no moment to you; yet, while I allow it to be a vice, I confess that it is the devouring and only passion of my soul. My rage is unspeakable when I reflect that the murderer, whom I have turned loose upon society, still exists. You refuse my just demand; I have but one resource, and I devote myself, either in my life or death, to his destruction.”

“That cannot be. But nothing I can say will do much good. My revenge means nothing to you. Yet, although I admit it is a vice, it is the only passion in my soul, and it consumes me. My rage is beyond words when I think that the murderer I set loose on society is still alive. You refuse my just demand, so I have only one choice. I dedicate myself to destroying him, whether I live or die.”

I trembled with excess of agitation as I said this; there was a frenzy in my manner, and something, I doubt not, of that haughty fierceness which the martyrs of old are said to have possessed. But to a Genevan magistrate, whose mind was occupied by far other ideas than those of devotion and heroism, this elevation of mind had much the appearance of madness. He endeavoured to soothe me as a nurse does a child and reverted to my tale as the effects of delirium.

I trembled with intense agitation as I said this. My manner was frenzied, and I have no doubt I showed some of the proud fierceness attributed to martyrs of old. But the Genevan magistrate was thinking of things far removed from devotion and heroism. To him, my exalted state of mind looked much like madness. He tried to soothe me as a nurse soothes a child and dismissed my story as the result of delirium.

“Man,” I cried, “how ignorant art thou in thy pride of wisdom! Cease; you know not what it is you say.”

“Man,” I cried, “how ignorant you are, despite your pride in your wisdom! Stop. You don't know what you're saying.”

I broke from the house angry and disturbed and retired to meditate on some other mode of action.

I stormed out of the house, angry and upset, and went away to consider another course of action.