My
strength was gone. I was a mere skeleton, and fever night and day
preyed upon my wasted frame. Still, as I urged our leaving Ireland
with such inquietude and impatience, my father thought it best to
yield. We took our passage on board a vessel bound for Havre-de-Grace
and sailed with a fair wind from the Irish shores. It was midnight. I
lay on the deck looking at the stars and listening to the dashing of
the waves. I hailed the darkness that shut Ireland from my sight, and
my pulse beat with a feverish joy when I reflected that I should soon
see Geneva. The past appeared to me in the light of a frightful dream;
yet the vessel in which I was, the wind that blew me from the detested
shore of Ireland, and the sea which surrounded me told me too forcibly
that I was deceived by no vision and that Clerval, my friend and
dearest companion, had fallen a victim to me and the monster of my
creation. I repassed, in my memory, my whole life--my quiet happiness
while residing with my family in Geneva, the death of my mother, and my
departure for Ingolstadt. I remembered, shuddering, the mad enthusiasm
that hurried me on to the creation of my hideous enemy, and I called to
mind the night in which he first lived. I was unable to pursue the
train of thought; a thousand feelings pressed upon me, and I wept
bitterly. Ever since my recovery from the fever I had been in the
custom of taking every night a small quantity of laudanum, for it was
by means of this drug only that I was enabled to gain the rest
necessary for the preservation of life.
Pages:
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242