That was the story of the people I had come to love.
Their lives changed the way I saw the human world. From them, I learned to admire kindness, courage, loyalty, and generosity. At the same time, I began to understand how much cruelty, selfishness, and injustice existed among human beings.
Until then, I had thought evil was something far away from me.
The people I watched every day were gentle and caring. Their goodness made me want to become part of their world. I wanted to live among people who could love and help one another.
But my understanding of the world was about to change again.
One night in early August, I went into the nearby woods as usual. I gathered food for myself and collected firewood for the family.
There, lying on the ground, I found a leather bag.
Inside were some clothes and several books.
I hurried back to my shelter with my unexpected treasure.
Luckily, the books were written in the language I had been learning from the family.
There were three of them: Paradise Lost, Plutarch’s Lives, and The Sorrows of Werter.
I was thrilled.
For the next several weeks, I spent every spare moment reading. While Felix, Agatha, and Safie worked or talked together in the cottage, I sat alone in my shelter and allowed the books to open an entirely new world to me.
I could hardly explain what they did to my mind.
They filled me with countless new ideas and emotions.
Sometimes I felt almost overwhelmed with happiness.
At other times, I fell into a terrible sadness.
The Sorrows of Werter affected me especially deeply.
Its story was simple but moving, and it also discussed many subjects I had never understood before. Love, society, death, happiness, despair, and human relationships all seemed to come alive in its pages.
The quiet family life described in the book reminded me of the De Laceys.
Its characters cared deeply about one another, yet they also had dreams and feelings that went far beyond their own personal needs.
I understood that.
I had spent so much time watching my protectors that I longed for the same kind of connection.
Werter himself fascinated me.
To me, he seemed unlike anyone I had ever known. He was passionate without being proud, sensitive without pretending to be important.
When he spoke about death and suicide, I was both confused and fascinated.
I did not fully understand his reasoning, but when his life came to an end, I wept for him.
Yet as I read, I could not help comparing everything in those books with my own life.
The people I read about had families, friends, homes, and places in society.
I had none of those things.
I could understand their feelings, but I had no one to whom I truly belonged.
No one depended on me.
No one would mourn me if I disappeared.
And then the questions began to torment me.
Who was I?
Where had I come from?
Why was I alive?
Where was I supposed to go?
Why did I look so different from every other human being?
I had no answers.
Plutarch’s Lives affected me in a very different way.
It told me about great men who had founded ancient republics. Their courage and devotion to their people awakened something powerful inside me.
Werter had filled my mind with sadness.
Plutarch gave me strength.
I began to admire people who fought for justice and served others.
The world described in the book was far larger than anything I had known.
I had heard of kingdoms, huge countries, great rivers, and endless oceans, but I had never seen a city or even a large crowd of people.
The cottage had been my only lesson in human society.
Now I was suddenly reading about rulers, soldiers, lawmakers, wars, and entire nations.
I began to understand the difference between virtue and cruelty.
I admired men such as Numa, Solon, and Lycurgus, who had created laws and tried to bring order to their people.
I admired them more than Romulus and Theseus, whose stories were filled with violence and conquest.
Perhaps the people who first introduced me to humanity had shaped my ideas.
The De Laceys were peaceful and loving.
If my first experience with humanity had been a soldier who dreamed of glory and killing, perhaps I would have learned to admire completely different things.
Then I read Paradise Lost.
That book affected me more deeply than all the others.
I believed its story was real.
I read about God, Adam, Eve, Satan, creation, rebellion, and the struggle between good and evil. The story filled me with awe.
But I kept comparing myself to Adam.
Adam had also appeared in the world without parents or a family.
For a moment, I thought we were alike.
But the more I thought about it, the more different we seemed.
Adam had been created perfect.
He was beautiful, healthy, and loved by his Creator.
He could speak with higher beings and learn from them.
I had none of that.
I was ugly, confused, helpless, and completely alone.
Sometimes I thought Satan was actually closer to my situation.
Whenever I looked at the happiness of the De Laceys, I felt the same bitter jealousy that Satan must have felt when he looked upon the happiness of others.
Then I discovered something that made my pain even worse.
Soon after I had arrived at the cottage, I had found some papers inside the clothes I had taken from your laboratory.
At first, I could not understand them.
But now I had learned enough to read them.
They were your journal.
You had written about the four months before I was created.
Every step of your work was recorded there.
You had described how you created me, along with many ordinary details of your life during that time.
And then I found the descriptions of myself.
You had written about my creation in horrible detail.
You described my body, my appearance, and every part of the process that had brought me into existence.
Your words made your disgust unmistakable.
I could barely continue reading.
I felt sick.
“So this is what my creator thought of me,” I whispered.
I could almost hear your voice in every cruel description.
“Why did you give me life if you were going to hate me the moment you saw me?”
I looked at my hands.
I thought of my face.
I remembered my reflection in the water.
“God created human beings to be beautiful,” I thought bitterly. “But you created me and made me hideous. Even you could not bear to look at me.”
I thought about Satan again.
“At least Satan had companions,” I said to myself. “He had others like him. He had someone who could understand him.”
Then I looked around my empty shelter.
“I have no one.”
Those thoughts often overwhelmed me when I was alone.
But whenever I watched the De Laceys, hope returned.
They were kind.
They cared about one another.
They never ignored someone simply because that person was poor or helpless.
I began to believe that if they could understand my heart, they might forgive my appearance.
Surely they would not reject someone who sincerely wanted their friendship.
I decided I would try.
But I was terrified.
My entire future seemed to depend on one meeting.
If they accepted me, I might finally have a family.
If they rejected me, I would have nowhere else to go.
So I waited.
I wanted to become wiser and more capable before approaching them.
Every day I learned something new, and I hoped that a few more months would give me enough courage and understanding to make my attempt.
Meanwhile, life at the cottage began to change.
Safie’s arrival brought happiness to everyone.
There was also more food and greater comfort.
Felix and Agatha had more time to talk and enjoy themselves, and servants sometimes helped with their work.
They were not wealthy, but they were content.
Their lives were peaceful.
Mine was becoming more troubled every day.
The more I learned, the more clearly I understood how completely alone I was.
Hope still existed inside me, but it could disappear in an instant.
Whenever I saw my reflection in the water or my shadow under the moonlight, I remembered what I truly looked like.
The sight destroyed my confidence.
Still, I tried to fight my fear.
Sometimes I allowed myself to imagine a different life.
I imagined beautiful, gentle people who could understand me.
I imagined them smiling at me instead of screaming.
I imagined someone comforting me when I was lonely.
But those dreams never lasted.
There was no Eve for me.
No one shared my thoughts.
No one comforted me.
I was alone.
I remembered Adam asking his Creator why he had been made.
Then I thought of myself.
“Where is my Creator?” I asked bitterly.
He had abandoned me.
And in the darkness of my loneliness, I cursed him.
Autumn came and passed.
I watched the leaves turn brown and fall from the trees.
The woods slowly became cold and empty, just as they had been when I first awakened.
I did not mind the cold very much. My body was better suited to cold weather than extreme heat.
What I missed most were the flowers, birds, and bright colors of summer.
When they disappeared, I paid even more attention to the De Laceys.
Their happiness did not disappear with the summer.
They still loved each other.
They still laughed and talked.
They still depended on one another.
Their happiness came from their relationships, not from the weather or their surroundings.
The more I watched them, the stronger my desire became to join them.
I wanted them to know me.
I wanted them to love me.
More than anything, I wanted to see kindness in their eyes when they looked at me.
I could not bear to imagine those eyes filled with disgust and fear.
Poor people often came to their door asking for food or shelter, and the family never turned them away.
I knew I was asking for much more.
I did not merely want food.
I wanted friendship.
I wanted sympathy.
I wanted to belong.
And I could not believe that I was completely unworthy of those things.
Winter arrived.
Almost a full year had passed since I first opened my eyes to the world.
By then, I had made a definite plan.
I would finally introduce myself to the family.
After thinking about it again and again, I decided that my best chance was to speak to the blind old man when he was alone.
I had learned something important.
People who saw my face were immediately horrified.
But my voice, although rough and strange, was not frightening.
If I could make the old man understand that I was harmless, perhaps he could persuade Felix and Agatha to accept me.
I waited for the right opportunity.
One day, the sun was shining on the red leaves scattered across the ground. The light made everything look cheerful, even though the air was cold.
That day, Safie, Agatha, and Felix decided to take a long walk.
The old man chose to remain at home.
For once, he was completely alone.
I watched from my hiding place.
After his children left, he picked up his guitar and began to play.
The music was gentle and sad.
I had heard him play before, but that day the music seemed even more beautiful.
At first, his face was peaceful.
Then his expression slowly changed.
He became thoughtful and sad.
Finally, he put the guitar aside and sat quietly, lost in his thoughts.
My heart began to race.
This was it.
This was the moment that could change my entire life.
The servants had also gone to a nearby fair.
The cottage was completely quiet.
I knew I would never have a better chance.
But when I tried to move, terror overwhelmed me.
My legs gave way, and I fell to the ground.
For a moment, I thought I could not do it.
Then I forced myself to stand.
I removed the wooden boards I had placed in front of my shelter and stepped into the open air.
The cold breeze cleared my mind.
I took a deep breath and walked toward the cottage.
When I reached the door, I knocked.
“Who is there?” the old man called.
“Come in,” he said.
I opened the door.
“Please forgive me for disturbing you,” I said. “I am a traveler. I only need a little rest. Would you allow me to sit beside your fire for a few minutes?”
“Of course,” he replied. “Come in. I will do whatever I can to help you.”
Then he hesitated.
“Unfortunately, my children are away, and I am blind. I may not be able to find food for you.”
“Please don’t worry about that,” I said. “I have food with me. I only need warmth and somewhere to rest.”
I sat down beside the fire.
For several moments, neither of us spoke.
Every second mattered.
I knew I had to begin, but I was too frightened to say what I had come to say.
Then the old man spoke.
“From your accent, I think you may be French. Am I right?”
“No,” I replied. “But I was raised by a French family, so French is the only language I know.”
“I am on my way to ask some friends for protection,” I continued. “I love them very much, and I hope they will accept me.”
“Are they Germans?”
“No. They are French.”
I paused.
“But please, let us talk about something else. I am an unfortunate and abandoned man. I have no family and no friend anywhere in the world.”
The old man listened quietly.
“The people I am going to see have never met me,” I continued. “They know almost nothing about me. I am terrified because if they reject me, I will have no place left in this world.”
“Do not lose hope,” he said gently.
“To have no friends is certainly a terrible thing. But when people are free from selfish interests and prejudice, their hearts can be kind. If these friends of yours are truly good people, you should not give up.”
“They are good,” I said quickly. “They are the best people I have ever known.”
“Then why are you afraid?”
“Because they are prejudiced against me.”
The old man frowned.
“They think I am dangerous. But I have never wanted to hurt anyone. My life has been harmless, and in some ways I have even helped them.”
I took a breath.
“They should see a kind friend when they look at me. Instead, they see a monster.”
“That is a terrible misunderstanding,” the old man said. “But if you have done nothing wrong, cannot you convince them of that?”
“That is what I am going to try.”
My voice began to shake.
“That is why I am so frightened. I love these people deeply. For months, I have secretly helped them whenever I could. They don’t know it was me. They believe I want to harm them.”
“Where do these people live?” he asked.
“Very close to here.”
The old man became silent for a moment.
Then he said, “Tell me everything. If you trust me with your story, perhaps I can help them understand you.”
I stared at him.
“I cannot see your face,” he continued, “so I cannot judge you by your appearance. But there is something in your voice that tells me you are sincere.”
He reached toward me.
“I am poor, and I have been forced into exile myself. But it would make me happy to help another human being.”
My heart nearly broke.
“Sir, you are an extraordinary man,” I said.
“Thank you. I accept your kindness with all my heart. You have lifted me from despair.”
I could hardly control my emotions.
“With your help, perhaps I will not be completely shut out from human society.”
“God forbid that you should be,” he replied.
“Even if you had committed a crime, I would still hope to help you. Despair does not make people better. It only pushes them further toward evil.”
He paused.
“My family and I were punished even though we were innocent. So I know something about suffering.”
His words filled me with hope.
“How can I ever thank you?” I whispered.
“You are the first person who has ever spoken to me with kindness.”
I took his hand.
“I will never forget this.”
Then he asked the question that I had been dreading.
“Tell me. What are the names of these friends of yours? Where do they live?”
I froze.
This was the moment.
One answer could give me happiness.
One answer could destroy my last hope.
I tried to speak.
But I could not.
All the strength left my body.
I sank into the chair and began to sob.
Then I heard footsteps outside.
Felix.
Agatha.
Safie.
They were coming back.
I had only seconds left.
I grabbed the old man’s hand.
“Now!” I cried. “Please save me! Protect me!”
The old man was startled.
“You and your family are the friends I have been talking about. Please don’t abandon me now. I need you!”
“Good God!” the old man exclaimed.
“Who are you?”
The door suddenly opened.
Felix, Agatha, and Safie walked inside.
The moment they saw me, they were horrified.
Agatha screamed and fainted.
Safie could not even stay in the room. She turned and ran outside.
Felix reacted with fury.
He rushed toward me and tore me away from his father.
I clung desperately to the old man’s knees.
“Please!” I begged.
But Felix was beyond reason.
He threw me to the ground and struck me violently with a stick.
For one terrible moment, I wanted to fight back.
I was strong enough to tear him apart.
I could have killed him.
But I stopped myself.
He was the son of the old man who had shown me kindness.
I could not hurt him.
Felix raised his stick again.
The pain and humiliation became unbearable.
I fled.
In the confusion, no one noticed where I went.
I ran back to my shelter and disappeared into the darkness, carrying with me the bitter knowledge that my last hope of being accepted by the human world had been destroyed.