Clerval placed a letter in my hands.
It was from Elizabeth.
I unfolded it with trembling fingers and began to read.
“My dearest Victor,
“I know you have been terribly ill. Henry’s letters have told us that you are slowly getting better, but they have not been enough to ease my worry.
“I know you have been forbidden to write because you are still too weak to hold a pen. But, Victor, even a single word from you would mean everything to us.
“For months, I have waited for every post, hoping it would bring a few lines from you.
“I have tried to stop your father from making the long journey to Ingolstadt. He is getting older, and I could not bear the thought of him facing such a difficult trip only to find you seriously ill.
“Many times, I wished I could go myself.
“I keep imagining you lying alone in your sickbed, cared for by some old nurse who barely knows you. I cannot help thinking that she could never understand your needs or care for you with the love I would have given you.
“But Henry has finally brought us good news.
“He says you are recovering.
“I desperately hope you will soon confirm it yourself with a letter.
“Please get well, Victor.
“Come home to us.
“You will find a happy home waiting for you, surrounded by people who love you.
“Your father is in good health. His only real wish is to see you again and know that you are safe. Nothing seems able to take away the kindness and happiness from his face.
“You would be amazed at how much Ernest has grown.
“He is sixteen now, full of energy and always looking for adventure.
“He dreams of becoming a true Swiss and joining the military abroad. Your father is not happy about the idea of him building a military career in another country.
“But Ernest has never been much interested in studying.
“He hates sitting over books. He would much rather spend his days outside, climbing the mountains or rowing on the lake.
“I am afraid he will become lazy if we do not let him follow the career he wants.
“Very little has changed here since you left, except that the children have grown.
“The blue lake is still beautiful.
“The mountains are still covered with snow.
“Our home is still peaceful, and everyone here is still happy.
“My own little duties keep me busy, and I am content because I am surrounded by kind and cheerful people.
“There is only one important change in our household.
“Do you remember Justine Moritz?
“Perhaps you do not, so let me tell you what happened to her.
“Justine was the third of four children. Her father died when she was young, and her mother had always treated her badly.
“My aunt noticed this and, when Justine was twelve, persuaded her mother to let the girl come and live with us.
“Here in Geneva, people from different social classes live much closer together than they do in the great monarchies around us.
“Being a servant here does not mean being ignorant or losing one’s dignity.
“Justine learned how to work in our household, but she was also treated as a human being worthy of respect.
“You used to like her very much.
“I remember you once told me that whenever you were in a bad mood, one look at Justine was enough to make you feel better.
“She always had such an open, cheerful face.
“My aunt became very fond of her.
“She decided to give Justine a better education than she had originally planned.
“Justine was deeply grateful.
“She never made a great show of her feelings, but anyone who looked into her eyes could see how much she loved my aunt.
“She was naturally cheerful and sometimes careless, but she paid close attention to everything my aunt said and did.
“She admired her so much that she even copied her way of speaking and behaving.
“Even now, there are moments when Justine reminds me of her.
“When my dear aunt died, everyone was so overwhelmed by grief that poor Justine was almost forgotten.
“She had cared for my aunt throughout her illness with extraordinary devotion.
“Soon afterward, Justine herself became seriously ill.
“And then her troubles became even worse.
“One after another, her brothers and sister died.
“Her mother was left with no children except Justine.
“Overcome with guilt, her mother began to believe that the deaths were God’s punishment for the way she had treated Justine.
“She was a devout Catholic, and her priest apparently encouraged her to believe this.
“So, a few months after you left for Ingolstadt, she called Justine back home.
“Poor Justine cried when she left us.
“She had changed greatly since my aunt’s death.
“Her grief had made her quieter and gentler. The lively girl you once knew had become much more serious and soft-spoken.
“Unfortunately, going home did not make her happier.
“Her mother constantly changed her attitude toward her.
“Sometimes she begged Justine to forgive her for the way she had treated her.
“Then, without warning, she would accuse Justine of somehow causing the deaths of her brothers and sister.
“The constant stress destroyed her mother’s health.
“She became seriously ill and died at the beginning of last winter.
“Justine has now returned to us.
“And Victor, I want you to know how much I love her.
“She is clever, gentle, and very pretty.
“Her face and manner often remind me of my dear aunt.
“I must also tell you about little William.
“I wish you could see him now.
“He is very tall for his age and has beautiful blue eyes, dark eyelashes, and curly hair.
“Whenever he smiles, two little dimples appear in his rosy cheeks.
“He has already had one or two little ‘wives,’ as he calls them.
“But his favorite is Louisa Biron, a pretty little girl who is only five.
“Now, dear Victor, I suppose you would like to hear a little news about the people of Geneva.
“The lovely Miss Mansfield has already received congratulations on her coming marriage to a young Englishman named John Melbourne.
“Her less attractive sister, Manon, married the wealthy banker M. Duvillard last autumn.
“Your old school friend Louis Manoir has suffered several disappointments since Clerval left Geneva.
“But he has recovered his spirits.
“People say he may soon marry a lively and beautiful French widow named Madame Tavernier.
“She is considerably older than him, but everyone likes her, and she is greatly admired.
“Writing all this has made me feel happier for a while, dear Victor.
“But now that I am reaching the end of my letter, my anxiety is returning.
“Please write to us.
“Even one line would bring us enormous comfort.
“One word from you would be enough.
“Please take care of yourself.
“And please write.
“Elizabeth Lavenza.
“Geneva, March 18th, 17—.”
“Dear Elizabeth!” I exclaimed when I finished reading.
“I will write to her at once. I cannot let them worry about me any longer.”
I immediately wrote a short letter home.
The effort exhausted me, but it was a good sign.
My recovery had truly begun.
From that point forward, my health steadily improved.
Two weeks later, I was strong enough to leave my room.
One of the first things I did was introduce Clerval to several professors at the university.
I found the experience much harder than I had expected.
Since the night my experiment had succeeded and ruined my life, I had developed a deep hatred of natural philosophy.
Even hearing the subject mentioned made me uncomfortable.
The sight of a chemical instrument could bring back the same terrible anxiety and physical weakness I had suffered during my illness.
Henry had noticed this.
He had removed all my scientific equipment from my room.
He had even moved me to another apartment because he understood that I could no longer bear to stay in the room where I had created the monster.
But meeting the professors brought everything back.
Professor Waldman was especially difficult for me.
He spoke warmly about my achievements in science.
He praised how far I had advanced and seemed genuinely proud of me.
At first, he did not realize how much his words were hurting me.
He probably thought I was simply being modest.
So he began talking about science itself, clearly hoping to draw me into the conversation.
But every word felt like torture.
As I listened, I imagined him placing the instruments of my destruction before me one by one.
The very things he praised had become the source of my greatest suffering.
I wanted to escape.
Yet I could not show him how badly his words were affecting me.
Henry noticed immediately.
He understood that something was wrong, even though he did not know why.
“I know almost nothing about these subjects,” he said calmly.
Then he steered the conversation toward something else.
I was deeply grateful to him.
I could tell that he was puzzled by my reaction, but he never questioned me about it.
I loved Henry more than I could express.
But even with him, I could not bring myself to reveal the truth.
The memory of that night was always with me.
I feared that telling someone else about it would only make the horror more real.
Professor Krempe was even harder to deal with.
He had never been as gentle as Waldman.
When he saw me, he spoke loudly and bluntly about my achievements.
“Damn the fellow!” he exclaimed.
“M. Clerval, I assure you, Frankenstein has gone farther than all of us.”
“Yes, you may stare at me if you like, but it is true.”
“A few years ago, this young man believed in Cornelius Agrippa as firmly as he believed in the Bible.”
“And now he has placed himself at the head of the university.”
“If someone doesn’t bring him back down to earth soon, the rest of us will look like fools beside him.”
He noticed the pain on my face and misunderstood it completely.
“Ah, yes,” he continued. “Frankenstein is modest.”
“That’s an excellent quality in a young man.”
“Young men should be humble about their abilities.”
“I was exactly the same when I was young.”
“But don’t worry. That quality disappears soon enough.”
Fortunately, Krempe soon became so interested in talking about himself that the conversation moved away from my scientific work.
Henry had never shared my passion for natural science.
His interests were completely different.
He had come to the university because he wanted to master the languages of the East.
He dreamed of building an adventurous life for himself, and he believed the East would offer him exactly that opportunity.
He devoted himself to Persian, Arabic, and Sanskrit.
I soon joined him.
I had always hated doing nothing, and at that time I desperately wanted something to occupy my mind.
I also wanted to escape the scientific studies that had once consumed me.
Studying with Henry gave me both distraction and comfort.
I did not study the languages as seriously as he did.
He wanted to understand them in depth.
I simply wanted to read and understand their meaning.
But even that was enough to help me.
There was something deeply calming in the sadness of those Eastern writers.
Their joyful passages could also lift my spirits in a way I had never experienced with other literature.
Their stories made life seem like a place of warm sunlight, beautiful gardens, passion, love, and powerful emotions.
It felt completely different from the heroic poetry of ancient Greece and Rome.
Summer passed quickly.
I had originally planned to return to Geneva toward the end of autumn.
But one delay followed another.
Then winter arrived.
Heavy snow covered the roads, making travel impossible.
My journey home had to be postponed until spring.
I hated the delay.
I desperately wanted to see my hometown and the people I loved.
The only reason I had been willing to stay so long was Henry.
I did not want to leave him alone in a strange city before he had made any friends.
Still, the winter passed pleasantly enough.
And when spring finally arrived, its beauty made the long wait worthwhile.
By May, I expected to receive the letter that would finally give me a departure date.
Then Henry made a suggestion.
“Why don’t we take a walking trip around the countryside?” he asked.
“You’ve lived here for so long. You should say goodbye to the area before you leave.”
I liked the idea.
I had always enjoyed walking, especially when Henry was with me.
So we set out together.
For two weeks, we wandered through the countryside around Ingolstadt.
By then, my health had completely returned.
The fresh air, exercise, beautiful scenery, and Henry’s company made me feel even stronger.
Before my illness, my studies had isolated me from everyone.
I had become withdrawn and unhappy.
But Henry brought something back into me that I thought I had lost.
He taught me to enjoy nature again.
He reminded me how much happiness there could be in the simple sight of cheerful people and children.
What a wonderful friend he was.
He truly cared about me.
He constantly tried to lift my spirits and bring me back to the person I had once been.
My obsession with science had narrowed my world.
Henry’s kindness slowly opened it again.
I began to feel like the happy young man I had been years before.
When I was happy, nature seemed almost magical.
A clear sky could fill me with joy.
Green fields could make me forget every problem.
And that spring was especially beautiful.
Flowers were blooming everywhere.
The summer flowers were already beginning to open.
For the first time in a long while, the terrible memories of the previous year seemed far away.
Henry was delighted to see me happy again.
He did everything he could to keep me entertained.
Sometimes he told me imaginative stories inspired by Persian and Arabic literature.
His imagination seemed endless.
At other times, he recited poems I loved.
He also enjoyed starting arguments with me, then defending his opinions with remarkable skill.
Our walks were never boring.
We finally returned to the college one Sunday afternoon.
The villagers were dancing, and everyone we passed seemed cheerful.
My own spirits were higher than they had been in years.
I walked beside Henry with almost childlike happiness, enjoying every moment of the beautiful day.